Both Lent and Ramadan began this past week, which means billions of people around the world will practice a form of fasting. The word “fast” means “quick or rapid” in reference to Seth Trimble, but in terms of abstaining from something, like food or drink, the meaning is derived from a sense of “holding firm.” It’s like the idea of “to fasten” only in terms of holding one’s desires in check.
Dry January is a popular fast from alcohol. Certain diets call for periods of fasting. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get healthier, but in addition to practicing self-discipline, the religious impulse for “giving something up” is more about what replaces it. For many people of faith, fasting is a self-denial in hopes of drawing closer to or experiencing the transcendent other. The prophet Muhammad reportedly said that the smell of a fasting person’s mouth is more pleasing to Allah than sweet perfume.
My spiritual practice of fasting is irregular. Ironically, I find that time moves so slowly on the days that I fast. Honestly, I am more likely to be hangry and grumpy than enlightened. Such attitudes are undoubtedly more akin to spiritual halitosis.
While fasting, I have discovered that I’m more attuned to smells. A whiff of barbecue chicken from a neighbor’s yard. Diesel exhaust from a work truck. “Petrichor” is the word for that earthy smell after a rain. It is a compound of “petra” (stone, rock) and “ichor,” which, in Ancient Greek mythology, was the liquid that flowed in the veins of the gods. I’m struck that a sense of this divine elixir is in the mortal world. As the Duke University professor and poet Kevin Hart once said, “The spiritual world is within this one, not as a secret but as a radiance.” Maybe a fragrance, too.
While fasting, I find it helpful to notice smells as a form of walking meditation. It’s a “stop and smell the roses” kind of mindfulness but also an awareness of less-than-flowery smells. For example, my son’s laundry basket stank to high heaven with his sweaty basketball clothes, yet I’m grateful that he is healthy and active and loves the game—realizations that did not perfume his socks but did gladden my heart.
Andrew Taylor-Troutman is the author of the book with Wipf and Stock Publishers titled This Is the Day: A Year of Observing Unofficial Holidays about Ampersands, Bobbleheads, Buttons, Cousins, Hairball Awareness, Humbugs, Serendipity, Star Wars, Teenagers, Tenderness, Walking to School, Yo-Yos, and More. He lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina where he is a student of joy.
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