I have some food in my bag for you. Not that edible food. The food you eat? No, I have some food for thought. —Erykah Badu, “Appletree”
Gaman is another Japanese philosophy I learned about recently and been trying my best to practice. It means “enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience, dignity, and grace.” It’s not about denying your pain, just not letting it control you. It’s self-restraint. It’s doing what you need to do without moping about it. Fasting would get hard around 2-3PM. The time changed, and 5PM went from feeling like “I’m so close and so grateful” to “Oh my God, these last 2 and half hours are about to drag.”
Complaining made it worse. Made room for the mental voices to try negotiating that a sip of water ain’t cheating, that ending my fast an hour early is okay. I’d Gaman and go for walks, or do another yoga session, or watch this podcast of two Black Philly Muslim women called “More than ‘Just a Girl.’” A few days ago, they said it’s kinda depressing when Ramadan is over.
“Shiiiittt,” I said out loud, sounding like a granny from the country being told that smothered liver and onion over rice don’t hit.
I couldn’t wait til Eid, the end of the month-long fast. Well, it don’ came and went, and I ain’t sad about it, but there are things I’ve started doing these past 30 days that I wanna keep doing:
Gaman
Waking before sunrise and spending time with God: writing in my prayer journal, giving thanks aloud while tidying, reading from a book on spirituality, meditating, yoga, and/or listening to gospel, like I felt like doing this morning
Being more generous—with my compliments (saying ‘em instead of just thinking ‘em) and with my patience (including letting the dump truck over in traffic)
Sharing meals with others
On Day 10 of Ramadan, my friend Elbi listed ways to celebrate. One was inviting someone to dinner once a week. That’s been a blessing AND a lesson! My first Iftar with a guest was everything! The second one stood me up; she forgot! I drove 45 mins to get there, so it sucked, but disappointment comes with being in community. Shake it off. My Iftar guest this past week was amazing! Rescheduled with the one who stood me up and we had a beautiful morning together.
Communion: the sharing of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially when the exchange is on a mental or spiritual level.
In Senegal, we ate together and from the same plate. Not only did it feel special, but it naturally moderated how much we ate without anyone feeling deprived. That’s because communion is just as much sustenance as edible food is. Without the communion aspect, I tend to eat faster and more mindlessly, usually while watching tv or being on the phone. I end up overeating with more helpings or by adding dessert or snacks at the end. Enjoying a good ass, undistracted conversation over a meal, however, gets you fuller faster.
Leaning into the “sacred no and the holy yes” as defined by Iyanla Vanzant.
The sacred no is the protective boundary around your time/energy to things that drain you so that you have space for a holy YES. That friend who energizes you invites you to dinner and says to leave your wallet home: YES! Your partner asks if you wanna read together in bed with a bowl of berries: YES! Your friend who’s usually in great spirits needs an ear and a shoulder: YES! Mailing your cousin a letter so y’all ain’t just sending reels back and forth everyday: YES! Field tripping with a group of birdwatchers to see if you’ll like it: YES! Sitting in a circle with 10-11 other kin spirits in Atlanta to listen to me read to you from Shug Avery, Sula, Zora, Assata, and more. Each story flowing into the next, revealing different pathways to freedom, wholeness, and self-definition. And you ain’t just listening, because I’m asking questions in between readings to keep the space in harmony and relatable. YES!
