Mid-Ramadan Reactions:
tawakul (trust), taqwa (god-consciousness), and attachment theory
As we hit the half-way mark this Ramadan, I am thinking of the language of love and attachment. As a student of psychology attachment theory has always piqued my interest, I remember reading about Harlow’s monkeys in high school, learning about Lorenz while I studied for my GRE, and Ainsworth’s attachment styles and schemas as a current doctoral student in Counseling Psychology. I am also thinking about the love languages and the trouble I am having trusting God’s plan this Ramadan. These are all difficult things for me to write, for me to confront and address within myself but I am going to give it a shot tonight.
Tawakul (Trust) — I have to admit, I had a lot of ambivalent feelings at the start of this month. Last year I wrote about how my relationship with the month has changed over the years. This year is no different. I knew I would be saying goodbye to someone important to me this month. Half of me was grateful — perhaps the solace, forgiveness, and mercy of this Holy Month would some how ease the pain associated with losing a loved one. The other half of me was angry — the impending loss made me doubt God’s timing.
How could God do this to me? Why would He bring me into this bliss only to take it away? Maybe I don’t want to start over, maybe I don’t want something better. I don’t want to be tested this way!
Taqwa (God-Consciousness) — In Ramadan pasts, fasting from food and drink felt like the easier part of Ramadan. I remember making the intention to fast with my eyes (#highschoolhotties), my mouth via not being harsh with my words, stretching compassion to my family, making my hands extra useful around the house or spreading kindness to my friends. This year, fasting from food and drink seems to be the only thing I can offer God. I wake up miserable, wishing I could start my day with coffee. I am usually unproductive and unable to focus. My graduate school schedule gives me enough flexibility that I can sleep through a part of the morning but the residual guilt and shame of being a useless, exhausted blob during Ramadan is hard to shake. The lack of food and drink is what I end up focusing on.
I’ve realized through this Ramadan exhaustion, that I am a total control freak and have a very harsh internal critic. Why can’t you get more done in the day? Why did you nap? Why did it take you 2hrs to complete a 30min task? WHY AREN’T YOU A BETTER/MORE NORMATIVE/MORE XYZ TYPE OF MUSLIM(AH)?
This Ramadan is teaching me and testing me. I wonder why I let others define my Muslimhood. I wonder why in the month of Mercy, in the month of Forgiveness, in the month of Salvation, in the month of the Quran, in the month of Laytul-Qadr, in the act of worship which God says: “every act of the son of Adam is for him, except As-Siyam (the fasting) which is (exclusively) for Me, and I will reward him for it,” why my spirit still believes it is inadequate.
What feels like a pathetic offering of no food and water for 16hrs is in it’s own way making me realize how dependent and limited I am by my physical body. How my mind is dangerous, dark place, when left without my drugs of choice (caffeine, sugar, and carbs). Perhaps I am cultivating God-consciousness in reflecting on the judgements I put on myself and the pressure I put on myself to constantly perform and be productive and be a certain type of Muslim. I am realizing how resistant I am to “going with the flow.” I find myself getting frustrated when the day ends and I haven’t completed what I thought needed to get done. I find myself getting upset when things don’t work out the way I wanted during the day. I find myself feeling oddly content when I am present with my emotions. When I am present enough to enjoy the weather or the company of another. And so, somehow, the world spins madly on, and I learn a little a lesson about life and myself each day, errands still get done, and deadlines are met. Fasting can and does look differently for everyone. Perhaps, the tawqa God is building in me is to reflect on letting go of control. Loosen your grip. Stop living in your anxiety and let yourself be present with yourself, with your loved ones, with Him.
Marriage and Attachment Theory — The last thing on my mind at the moment is the role of commitment and effort in maintaining a secure attachment with a significant other. I am of the opinion that a healthy marriage, or relationship is a choice. You make a choice to stay connected to your partner, to be open, to be understanding, to admire, and respect them in a way that encourages and lays fertile ground where both of you are ACTING in way which demonstrates your love and care for each other.
This is where I feel disappointed in my relationship with the Almighty. I say I want to stay connected and yet, I doubt His wisdom. I say I want to return to Him and yet I continue to engage in actions which I hurt my heart. I say I believe in the Buddhist tradition of non-attachment, and yet I attach myself to people other than Him.
Some people prefer to express love through Quality Time, some through Giving Gifts, some via Physical Touch, others by communicating Words of Affirmation, or engaging in Acts of Service for their partners. What is the language of my Love for my Lord this month? Is it reconnecting with His creation and providing service and comfort as an affirming ear? Is it embracing individuals in my family after a day at work? Is it giving gifts to friends who are graduating and getting married with the intention of celebrating their accomplishments and sharing their joy? Is it spending quality time, in the day and night, allowing and accepting my tears and heartbreak maybe what my faith needs in this moment to heal?
The hardest lesson I am learning this Ramadan is I am not alone. My thoughts, the judgements I make about myself, my need to “know”, stay with me in the silence of these fasting days. But God is with me too. Maybe this Ramadan is just the start of my return to Him and a secure attachment with Her. Maybe this Ramadan is a way to reconnect myself with the jihad of emotional isolation. Of navigating a non-traditional path. Only we know our experiences, our trials, the tests we have endured, the triumphs we have overcome. Earlier this year I wrote a piece about the test of being single, that my age and the word “marriage” can be fighting words if you catch me on the wrong day. Perhaps writing with the vulnerability I am now and I did back then, finding my spiritual voice, connecting with others struggling to stay sane in what feels like a fight to exist as we are, whole, and complete, in all of our [secure and insecure] complexity, is where power lies in the last half of these special days.
We have entered the days of Forgiveness. The days of Mercy have passed. The days of Salvation are coming up. I want to be able to forgive myself for being useless in the cultivation of trust and taqwa during these first 15 days. I want to be able to show myself Mercy as I make the intention to fast for 16 hrs in the name of my Lord. This is all I can offer, ya Rabb. And if not eating and drinking is all I can offer, so be it. I believe you reward for intention, and this Ramadan, my most basic intention is that in this moment, I want to stay in community with my Muslimhood — however inadequate or insecure I may feel holding on to this label.
Be well and be good. Congrats to all on making it half-way in whatever state you are in. Is the reward for good anything but good? [55:60]
