Nibbling Olives with God

So another day, another yoga class. My goal this week is daily attendance. After a wonderful class with many twists, downward facing dog, upward facing dog, frog pose, crow pose (darn it!), and my improved kick-ass tree pose as practiced on the sunny shore, we stretch out for relaxing Savasana.

As always, I’m eager to find out what my experience of this relaxation will be. You’ll remember that yesterday my body faded away. No such luck today. Body’s still there, whispering little reminders. Mind’s still there too, ticking along like a happy little wristwatch. Here, there, everywhere go my thoughts. Tick, tick, tick.

Oh, well. I breathe and accept it. The instant I do it all deepens for me. Suddenly, I am plunged through my inner self into the vast limitless expanse that lingers there. God is waiting for me.

“Oh, so delightful to see You!” I think.

God gives his usual wry and loving wordless reply.

“Yeah, yeah, You are always here. I’m the one who forgets to visit. Okay, I get it.” God doesn’t mind if I roll my eyes, or get a little attitude sometimes. He’s pretty forgiving.

Today, God is like… God. Traditional. Male, benevolent, paternal, wise and kind. Often my conception of God is of a willowy red-haired woman who wears flowing, green gauzy dresses that set off her creamy skin. She is ageless, beautiful and lives in an indescribably charming cottage in the midst of a lush, flower-filled garden. We like to chat and eat homemade cinnamon rolls in her welcoming parlor.

Today, God wants to go somewhere. He takes me out to a nearby bar and orders martinis. I love this bar; it’s classy, well appointed, and vaguely European in a cosmopolitan way. God has (of course) good taste.

It’s just what I need too. Just a chance to hang out in the comfortingly dim light, watching the glowing end of cigarettes, and grooving to the music that wraps around us like a warm haze. God likes His music with some bass. It’s a little loud for me, but I’m not about to complain.

I sit there and sip, and groove, and relax. When our drinks are gone, we nibble our olives and smile at each other. “Delicious,” I say, “Thanks so much.”

Across the studio, the music fades and the teacher chimes the copper bell three times. I come back into my body on the mat, chuckling as I roll up to easy pose. Namaste.

Fasting for Ramadan

The month of Ramadan began on Monday, and I find myself observing it with a modified fast.

I’m not Muslim. Not even remotely.

But I am big on spiritual observances. The rituals that remind us that there is much more to life than just the day-to-day dross. Sacrifice, devotion, dedication and intention are part of a healthy spirituality. I know quite well how enduring the lack of something can hone a shining appreciation not just for what is missed, but also for what is so abundantly present.

Since one of my closest and most wonderful friends is a (not-very-strict) follower of Islam, I decided that I would go hungry in solidarity with her.

Because I’m following my own inner guidance, this is a modified fast. Devout observers generally give up all food and drink intake, including water, from sunrise to sunset for the entire month. That just won’t work for me. So my terms are that I can drink freely, water or tea, and eat any fruits, vegetables, or nuts I want during daylight hours. Any other foods have to wait for the darkness (sort-of vampiric, huh?).

Several milestones loom for me at the end of this month. I have a big birthday at the start of October. I begin my year-long program to learn how to teach yoga at the end of September. I also will meet for the first time with a dear blog friend from another country. This month just suggested itself to me as a perfect time to prepare and purify.

It’s amazing to know that I am in the company of so many millions of other souls around the world.

Even though I’m not of their faith, I can still appreciate the value of Faith itself.

And that I can share in it.