Sexless Hunger Games Full of Insight
(5 minute read) — Estimated Time of Arrival X Ramadan Edition pt II
Welcome to Estimated Time of Arrival, your Wednesday newsletter where yours truly, Paula Romeu-Garcia, chats sh!t about life and drops some nuggies of wisdom here & there.
There’s a little Raven that lives inside me.
Who tickles me for more, for naughtiness, for pleasure. That loves to f*ck, to get f*cked up, to “f*ck it” button it, to f*ck everything off when it gets hard. To curse.
Among the Inuit, Raven is the trickster. (…) he’s a creature of appetite. He likes pleasure only, and attempts to avoid all uncertainty and the fears that uncertainty brings. He’s a good deal cautious and a good deal greedy, both. He is fearful if something does not immediately look fulfilling. He pounces when it does….
— Clarissa Pinkola, “Women who run with the wolves”
During Ramadan, the Raven cannot be satiated on a whim.
As the day unfolds, I can’t help but notice every time I would be toking a joint. Grabbing a snack, murdering a coffee or having a wank.
I put on my metaphorical lab coat without judgment and take notes.
My productivity has gone up, which is to say, tasks that had been sitting on my to-do list for eons are now done.
I'm parched. Tranquil. Wide-eyed.
Unable to escape my mind into distractions and pleasures I’ve found new questions.
Some painful answers.
(Like I’m afraid to give my shortfilm another push because of the Kickstarter “failure”)
But also a few lessons on self-healing, intermittent sleeping, the awesomeness of water and time management.
If any of them help, they’re yours.
X-Women: Origins of Wolverina.
On the second day of Ramadan (my true love gave to me), a nasty flu in a pear tree.
As if Allah, God, the Universe wanted to test my commitment, my word, my faith.
I didn’t break the fast.
Not even to drink water or take medicine.
I promised myself I’d stick to it and see it unfold until the end.
(Also, my beloved nan is in charge of shouting at me every morning on the phone. "You better not cheat or flake, promises to ourselves are the most important, I did the apple diet once too--..." which helps).
For the first time in my life, out of sickness depletion and unwillingness to fail so early on, I did fuck all. Which is British for nada.
I lay on the sofa and watched the little pockets of light in the ceiling drift by. Noticing the subtle yet perpetual changes in colour through the hours.
I slept, a lot.
No water, no pee. I didn’t distract myself with food, phone or TV. If my eyelids felt heavy, I allowed them to close, guilt-free.
What would’ve usually been a 6-day sick fest became a 2-day snooze fest.
Stronger than ever, on day 4, I went for a jog, a workout, then to Salsa in the evening.
I’ve been working out and dancing solid ever since.
Had I pushed my body to its limit out of fear to “stop” even when I was sick?
YES.
(YES, working from bed is still working!).
Rama-nugget #1 Deep, guilt-free rest heals, fast.
Intermittent sleep Sleeping Beauty
Sleep that knits up the raveled sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.”
― William Shakespeare, Macbeth
“Forced” polyphasic or intermittent sleep has been a game-changer (thanks Allah).
Waking up at 5 AM, after a nice meal, I’m 10x more productive and clear-minded.
I’m problem-solving, getting through my “to-do” list faster. Scheduling emails ahead of time and, I'm more on top of my shit but much less stressed.
Never have I ever felt this calm inside.
Oh, but it comes at a price or it doesn’t work.
I HAVE to go back to sleep after a few hours of working and then again around 4 PM for a Spanish siesta.
Hitting the sack later than 11 PM, makes everything harder in the early hours. Mind clarity dips heaps.
The early-hour stillness and clarity are worth the unsexiness of strictness tho.
Stop running your machine to the ground.
Lack of sleep ages you faster.
Rama-nugget #2 To reap the precious 5 AM creativity, productivity and clarity treasures you gotta get nuff sleep. Period.
Re-realising how much this matters.
We’re chronically dehydrated.
We take water for granted, as we do with our breath.
Not being able to drink water for 13 hours a day has made me appreciate its preciousness.
Thirst makes hunger louder. A couple of Rama-days have been very tough.
If I were drinking water during the day, the fasting would be a total breeze. (Maybe that’s the point?)
Oh water, you insipid nectar of the gods.
My mouth feels parched thinking about it. Working out without it is torture.
The electrolytes I devour seem to help.
Yet, in my “real life”, how many times have I lived solely off the water in coffee, tea, fruit, juice or booze?
Relate?
Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted to become a prune, I wanna tell my 2-weeks ago self.
Water keeps you younger and peachier 🍑
Rama-nugget #3 You’re water. Water is life. Be water to mend, my friend. Or wrinkle away.
There are SO many hours in a day.
To return to an alert innocence is not too much of an effort like moving a pile of bricks from here to there, as it is standing long enough to let the spirit find you.
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run with the Wolves
I hate the word “busy”. It makes people sound disorganised.
A frivolous excuse not to do things we don’t want to do.
Committing to Ramadan has led me to be less food-focused. To make room for other things (i.e. Salsa) besides sexy dicksractions and temptations. To push outside my comfort zone.
We don’t lack time. We’re prioritising wrong.
Imagine how good you’d get at something, anything, if you spent an hour a day on it for a month, or two, or a year.
Without meaning to, we make room for indulgence in our lives. Then justify it because we’re exhausted, overworked, over-stimulated, and on a constant adrenaline come down. We “deserve it”.
You deserve a good night's sleep. A healthy home-cooked meal. Quality time with your fam. Time for stillness, stillness in sickness and selfish self-reflection for self-love.
A secret smile. A whisper of luck.
I get the frenzy though. Two weeks ago, in a post-period rampage of passion, I told my friend I wanted to squeeze the juice out of life with both hands.
He said something that changed my perception of life forever, he said
Let it drip, baby.
Rama-nugget #4 “Busy” is a trap. Make space. Let it drip.
Questions I’m pondering on week two.
What would you do if you had an extra hour or two every day?
Who are you without your little vices? How do you relate to others?
What do you know should die but you’re hesitant to allow to do so?
What should die today? What should live?
What (creative) life are you afraid to give birth to?
If not now, when?
I’d love to hear some answers, if you dare 😈
Thank you for being here with me another week, dear reader.
Do you think drinking water should be allowed or is a strict dry-fast the way to go to embrace this experience to its fullest?
Look forward to hearing from you.
Agápe,
Paula x
💜
When I was a child I developed a "Fuck the World!" demon that came in very handy when the world seemed to be fucking with me.
The less the worlds fucks with me, the lonelier that demon becomes.