Fast Within a Fast

My Pre-Naw Ruz Fast Within a Fast

By John Taylor; 16 March, 2006

I come off over a week of violent illness with these impressions. Call
it "My Pre-Naw Ruz Fast Within a Fast" because I turned away meals,
even the thought of anything in my stomach made it turn. Not, that is,
a spiritual fast. It started probably in the weakness that early on
ended my spiritual fast two days after it started. The result is the
same, a fast within a fast. Like the play within the play in Hamlet,
it serves a function.

When this viral thing hit full force I was, more than anything, lost
in admiration at the stoic courage of these two kids, who lost the
week of school just before March Break to the same bug. If it had been
me in their shoes we would have been hearing nothing but, "Momka, make
it stop!" and "Momka, turn off the invisible toaster, I am roasting."
But we heard none of that, to the point where at times I imagined them
ready to return to school, whereas -- I now could see -- they were
far, far from it. The life threatening illness phase of this
affliction faded gradually into a latter stage of coughing fits that
keep me awake all night asking the question: which is worse, gross
suffering or utter misery? Can you trade one for the other?

My significant other, whatever her other merits, is the reverse of a
nurse and I was left in my darkest hours with a sorely depleted will,
stewing, tossing and turning in bed, stymied by decisions like,
"Should I get up and brush my teeth or should I keep retching at my
own bad breath?" or, "Should I fight my revulsion and drink more water
to reduce the migraine head pain, or should I just let the fever and
the head pain dance together here on my pillow?"

The worst was over with but the dry coughing remained. Starved for an
iota of human contact and warmth, I turned up early for our monthly
fireside, aware that it was unwise, I should not be there. I carried a
little mini-cassette tape recorder that I hoped to give to and ask
someone to tape the discussion. In my confused state, I had not
brought a tape for it. But I was reminded of my un-wisdom in showing
my face immediately by M, who fearfully passed by, face averted, mouth
covered, saying to me, "Go home." Meekly, I left before infecting more
victims. I hardly blame anyone for fearing this formidable virus.
Still if there were a moral spectrum of illness and cure, with viruses
on one end and `Abdu'l-Baha on the other, I would place believers like
this on the viral side, along with the green slime I cough into these
tissues. For them "Baha'i" is antinomian, a contagion not a reality
... a Baha'i visits the sick, nurses, helps them, shows concern, or at
least civility. A person who quails is unworthy to utter the word much
less mount a charger and enter the arena of spiritual endeavor. A
Baha'i thinks not of danger but of the law.

"But his delight is in the law of the Lord. And on his law he
meditates day and night." (Psalms 1:2)

As the fever mounted, much earlier on, I went to our Philosopher's
Cafe meeting on suicide in Wainfleet. Stu had to be at a teacher's
reunion and I was the only animator this time. Perhaps fortunately, I
was the only person to turn up. It would have been suicide for others
to do so. The person who suggested the topic was Mark, a handsome dark
haired young French teacher at Dunnville High School. He did not come
either, but last time he told of the problems that teachers here are
having counseling young people against suicide, the most common cause
of death among youths after accidents.

It seems that one of Mark's most brilliant students, with a good
family, a nice car, a pretty girlfriend, captain of the football team,
was having good times with some friends at his farm home when he
stepped into his bedroom, pulled out a shotgun and blew his head off.
Now all the others are saying, "This guy had it all, and he chose to
end it. If a winner like that could not deal with life, do not I have
even more reason to kill myself?" That, it seems, is how young people
think. God's law is not their delight, nor do they mediate on it, day
or night.

At the end of our most recent Haldimand Spiritual Assembly Meeting
someone read the usual closing prayer. It begins, in an early
translation, "Thou dost look upon us from Thine unseen Kingdom of
Oneness, [beholding] that we have assembled in this Spiritual
Meeting..." It hit me then that this explains exactly what this
principle of Oneness is all about. Unseen heights. Awareness that we
are being seen, that the light of the One pervades all. And, now that
I think of it, open sunlight fries viruses, doesn't it? So to get rid
of viruses, we just have to bring everything out into the light. We do
not need drugs or human cures, we just need the light of the law of
God. I hope that I will be able to live into the new year to continue
this series on the Oneness of God, and do it justice.

For me, the most characteristic aspect of Baha'u'llah's teaching is
the unity of word and deed. Okay, Jesus got riled against hypocrites,
but outside Jesus, I cannot think of any thinker who puts so much
emphasis on being and acting, not just talking. Consider this, where
Baha'u'llah defines "wise" as those who are not hypocrites; the
original word for "wise" being translated, I would guess, is "Hakim,"
which also means doctor, scientist, or person with "know-how" or
savoir faire.

"This Wronged One hath invariably treated the wise with affection. By
the wise is meant men whose knowledge is not confined to mere words
and whose lives have been fruitful and have produced enduring results.
It is incumbent upon everyone to honour these blessed souls. Happy are
they that observe God's precepts; happy are they that have recognized
the Truth; happy are they that judge with fairness in all matters and
hold fast to the Cord of My inviolable Justice." (Baha'u'llah,
Tablets, 62)

After so many hours of pain and misery, I read what He says here about
being happy with joy and longing. All I wanted, sunk in pain, was to
be happy, or at least to know that happiness exists somewhere in the
world. Baha'u'llah is saying that it is a possibility, if only we
observe God's precepts. Yet I turn on the television (the only time I
watch it, especially advertisements, is when I am sore sick) and I see
the reverse of that. Nothing but a death wish, a suffering wish. We
truly, deep down, spiritually are asking for nothing but a
bloodletting. That is why mindless violence pervades light
entertainment, it is the only consolation for not knowing real
justice.

I thought, well, I am suffering from cold, cough and sore throat, at
least I can relate to the cough medicine ads that used to be so
common. But I did not find any. No longer needed. I had been looking
forward to seeing my cough depicted in a moving plumbing chart. But I
found to my surprise that drug ads no longer find it necessary even to
mention any problem that their product may be deemed to stoop to cure.
They just say, "Gruffledyn. Ask your doctor about it." Or, more often,
just, "Gruffledyn." Why no emphasis on the problem, the pain and
suffering it relieves? Because people have gone beyond taking a pill
to solve an ache or a pain, they take pills as a reflex, like
breathing air. How else could prescriptions for insomnia medications
have shot up four or five times in the past four or five years? A
little tweak to doctors, a little to the public, and the reflex kicks
in; then sleep, a normal aspect of life is made into a money machine.
All you do is mention the brand name, and everybody knows what to do.

One light in my dark times was mentioned on a talk show, a satiric
comedy about industry's MOD squad (Merchants of Death, tobacco, booze,
and guns), which is soon to be released as a feature film, called
"Thank You For Smoking." Coincidentally, I had the book-on-tape among
many others on deck, and so I listened to the novel as I drove to
Hamilton to return my library materials. A very well crafted story
that made me think I should do more with my warning label dot com
ideas when I return to health. Somehow to combine humor with satire
with social reform, that would be glimmer of hope to make a mark.

I thought, well, I am suffering from cold, cough and sore throat, at
least I can relate to the cough medicine ads that used to be so
common. But I did not find any. No longer needed. I had been looking
forward to seeing my cough depicted in a moving plumbing chart. But I
found to my surprise that drug ads no longer find it necessary even to
mention any problem that their product may be deemed to stoop to cure.
They just say, "Gruffledyn. Ask your doctor about it." Or, more often,
just, "Gruffledyn." Why no emphasis on the problem, the pain and
suffering it relieves? Because people have gone beyond taking a pill
to solve an ache or a pain, they take pills as a reflex, like
breathing air. How else could prescriptions for insomnia medications
have shot up four or five times in the past four or five years? A
little tweak to doctors, a little to the public, and the reflex kicks
in; then sleep, a normal aspect of life is made into a money machine.
All you do is mention the brand name, and everybody knows what to do.
Call it antinomian medicine, a sickness within sickness.

--
John Taylor

badijet@gmail.com