As I mentioned a few posts ago, I recently decided to fast on behalf of my friend. She is still awaiting her double lung transplant, but she is getting stronger every day, making her chances of having a successful transplant better and better with every breath she takes. I'm so proud of her.
I admit that the act of fasting for a meager 16 hours or so was actually a really enlightening experience, and something that brought me a lot of peace, silence, and strangely, motivation. I like that there is this very literal, physical thing that we can do for someone else when they are physically ailing. Not only because it makes you feel a little less helpless, and shows your devotion to someone or to a higher power, but also because this extremely physical act, this gnawing of hunger throughout the day, makes you think about your body good and hard for a minute.
I think I forgot about my body. I think about my mind, about NPR, about driving my car, about kissing my husband. When I do think about my body, I think "I wish these jeans fit different, this belt makes me look so slim, I am shaped like a fruit" but I don't think about the fact that food is precious, that oxygen flowing freely in and out of my lungs isn't a right, it's a miracle, that I was given just one body for a precious blink of time. This is mine, and I want to treasure it.
So, fasting made me grateful, it made me less helpless, and on a totally random side note, has made me want to take better care of this precious biological miracle which is my abled body.
Food has never tasted better, and walking has never been so sweet.
And that's all I have to say about that.