5 Things That Will Definitely Happen When I'm Fasting

I'm currently fasting for religious reasons. I'm a Baha'i, and like all Baha'is around the world this time of year, I'm not eating or drinking from sunrise to sunset. We do this for 19 days before we celebrate our new year on the first day of spring.

I find the Fast to be rewarding — spiritually, of course, but also physically and mentally. Rainn Wilson wrote a nice explanation of the Fast and what it means to Baha'is that you can read here.

I'm often asked questions about the Fast, specifically how I hold up during the Fast. I'll be very honest with you: It's not easy, though not for the reasons you'd immediately suspect. I figured I'd put together a list of some of the challenges I face when I'm fasting. I'm not speaking for all Baha'is, just for myself, but these issues do seem to come up for me every year.

1. I will question whether I can last the Fast

Though not at first. I feel good when the fasting period begins. Very good, and very confident. Why should I not feel confident? I've fasted every March for the past 20 years. And it's only 12 hours a day. Between work and errands (and maybe a catnap here and there), the time flies by...or so I tell myself.

"It's not a big deal," I'll say, both to myself and to my friends. And when I say it, I believe it. My friends, on the other hand, do not believe it. At all.

"For how long are you doing this?" they ask. For 19 days, I tell them. "Is that just food, or are you not allowed to drink, either?" they want to know. Yep, no drinks, either, I respond.

"Wow. I could never do that. Never."

Oh.

You know what happens next, after my friends say that? My stomach rumbles. Which is odd, because it doesn't rumble before my friends plant this seed of doubt in my head. Also, my mouth will start to feel dry. Not just a little dry, but rather Sahara dry.

I'll start to get a little more impatient and antsy, too. I'll check my phone for the time and discover it's not even 11 a.m. and that sunset isn't for another seven hours.

What I'm trying to say is, it's important to cut all friends out of your life in order to fast effectively.

2. Friends will show no regard for the fact that I'm fasting

You really do need to cut all friends out of your life when fasting. I'm not joking.

Friends will eat in front of you. They will drink in front of you. And they won't be eating and drinking run-of-the-mill products, either. They will eat a double-bacon cheeseburger and garlic fries with a strawberry milkshake, with a brownie topped with whipped cream for dessert.

I may be exaggerating a little, but this is fact: They will eat something that looks delicious and smells delicious in front of you, without hesitation.

Also a guarantee: My friends will not understand that I break the Fast every night exactly at sunset, and will not wait a minute longer. They'll invite me to dinner at a restaurant and I'll say, "Sure." "Great. How's 8:30?" "No, that doesn't work for me, I need to eat at 6:02." "Well, why don't you eat something small at 6:02 and come out to the restaurant later?" "No, that wouldn't work." "Just snack on chips or...."

NO. Here's what they don't get. When the clock reaches sunset time, my jaw drops open immediately. I can't even control it. And I just shove food in my face. Whatever food is in the vicinity. Sometimes I'll be in the kitchen and I'll just extend my arm on the countertop and sweep whatever's on it into my mouth. A loose grape, breadcrumbs that fell off the plate from that morning...it doesn't matter. It is so yum.

Here's an accurate representation of what I'm like at sunset during the Fast:

3. I will set an alarm for 30 minutes before sunrise, and ignore it

Every morning the alarm will go off and I'll ask myself a question: What's more important to me, food or sleep? In that moment, the answer is always sleep. I'll hit the snooze button and then when I do get out of bed, I'll realize I have only 10, 15 minutes to eat and drink as much as I can before sunrise time.

It becomes a race against the clock. I'll drink a large mug of water and a large mug of coffee at the same time. I'll consume a slice of buttered toast on one side of my mouth while inserting a banana into the other side of my mouth. Whatever it takes to fill my belly for the day. I imagine this is how a camel nourishes itself each morning.

4. I won't know when sunset is

I will look up the time in the morning and forget it approximately five seconds later. For the rest of the day I'll ask my wife, "When is sunset again?"

And daylight saving time...you thought it was annoying for you because you lost an hour of sleep? Try fasting when it kicks in. I'll settle into a rhythm with the Fast after a week, and then the government steps in and messes around with me and my clocks so that I have to wait another hour to eat dinner.

When I'm fasting, I'm not thinking about saving daylight. I'm thinking about saving myself from tearing open a bag of Goldfish before it gets dark out. The sooner the sunset, the better, as far as I'm concerned.

5. There will be days when I won't be home at sunset

Because I'm stuck at the office late, or I'm stuck on a delayed subway train, or I'm just stuck anywhere other than at a dinner table. That's why I keep an emergency stash of food in my coat pockets.

Here's a brief list of food items I've carried with me during recent Fasts: granola bars, almonds, a plastic baggie of Cheerios, plain M&M's, peanut M&M's, five packages of Pez candy. Anything you'd be able to find at a 7-Eleven, basically. If I could fit a Big Gulp inside my coat, I would.

Worst-case scenario, I'll snack on a few Listerine strips. I've actually done it. I can't vouch for their nutritional value, but I can promise you'll never smell a fresher breath in your life.


So, those are my biggest challenges during the Fast. But let me be absolutely clear about this: the no-eating, no-drinking thing? It's not a big deal.

Mother Nature's Annoying Song

I'd never been more impressed with Mother Nature than I was last night.

I was searching for nature sounds on Spotify and, as it turns out, nature has a lot of sounds. Enough to fill at least 200 albums. That's how many I counted before I stopped scrolling through the results.

Let's pause for a moment to acknowledge Mother Nature's incredible music career. Name me one artist who has released as many recordings as she has. You can't. She's more prolific than Lennon-McCartney at the height of Beatlemania. And she has never won a Grammy Award, to the best of my knowledge. Shame on the Recording Academy.

Anyway, I wanted to listen to nature sounds because I was having a hard time falling asleep, and I've read that white noise can help. I chose a track at random: "Far Away Forest." All right, a forest that's far away. Perfect. Take me there, Spotify.

I placed my earbuds in my ears, I lay my head on my pillow and I closed my eyes. I felt relaxed almost immediately. It was great. I could hear birds chirping. Water was gently flowing down a river. I was completely at peace in the Far Away Forest.

And then a fly showed up. It buzzed in my ears, loudly enough to distract from the birds and the water.  It was a buzzkill. It was ruining the good vibes in the forest. It was ruining the track. Most importantly, the buzzing was ruining my zzzs.

Why is a fly on this song, I wondered. Why lay down vocals from a fly? What was Mother Nature thinking? The fly should be far away from the Far Away Forest. Really far away.

I waited out the fly, for five seconds. Suddenly, the buzzing was gone. I started to calm down. Once again, I closed my eyes and prepared myself for a fitful night of sleep.

And then the fly returned. The buzzing felt louder this time, and more annoying. It came in quick bursts.

I opened my eyes right away. I was not calm. I was the opposite of calm. I may have swatted the air in front of my face in a futile attempt to shoo away the fly. I most definitely said, "Get the f--- out of my forest, you f------ fly!"

But it didn't care. It continued to buzz and buzz and buzz. I no longer heard the birds chirping, I no longer heard the water flowing. All I heard was, "Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

It went on like this for two minutes until I yanked the earbuds out of my ears and tossed my phone onto the nightstand.

I gave Mother Nature a try, and I just couldn't get into it. White noise for sleep? I can see that. But fly noise? No. No one likes fly noise. No one.

Mother Nature has plenty of other songs, and I'm sure some of them are great. Maybe I'll give her another chance one day. But if I ever use Spotify again to help fall asleep, I'll skip Mother Nature and the fly. I'll go straight to The Beatles instead.