But the horror that's destroying me today is less noble and more corrosive. It's a longing to be free of wanting to have thoughts, a desire to never have been anything, a conscious despair in every cell of my body and soul. It's the sudden feeling of being imprisoned in an infinite cell. Where can one think of fleeing, if the cell is everything?
And then I feel an overwhelming, absurd desire for a king of Satanism before Satan, a desire that one day - a day without time or substance - an escape leading outside of God will be discovered, and our deepest selves will somehow cease participating in being and non-being.
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, text 43
This may seem like an odd posting for Ramadan, but, actually, I think it makes perfect sense for how I approach the month. As I've said, too many times, I think we reduce a month that should be focusing on intense study and self-reflection, and turn it into a competition about who can fast the most hours. It's not that the fasting isn't important, because it teaches us so many things, but if we don't tie it a period of exploration and questioning then I think we're cheapening the beauty of this time set aside from the more quotidian demands of the external world, focusing on what is quantifiable (hours fasted) as compared to what is harder to quantify (study and self-reflection). One of the things that I love about Pessoa is his internality, his quest to find beauty away from the crass, ugly, commercialism of the world that we're forced to live in. It's a world outside of God, at least our commodified vision of God in religion, and because of that it is fully inside of God, the transcendent God beyond being and non-being.