TheGentleLaw Community
A few years ago, I found myself at a Ramadan gathering with Middle Eastern students at an Australian university. It was a cool evening, and after a long day of fasting, everyone was eager to break their fast. As the sun dipped below the horizon, plates of dates appeared, and I found myself eating more than I had ever imagined. The sweetness, the texture, and the simple joy of sharing food with others made the moment special. But beyond the feast, what struck me most was the heightened awareness that fasting seemed to bring to those observing it.
The Practice of Renunciation and Letting Go
In Buddhism, renunciation (nekkhamma) is not about deprivation but about cultivating freedom. When we voluntarily refrain from something—whether food, entertainment, or distractions—we begin to see the mind’s habitual clinging (upādāna). Fasting in Ramadan, much like Buddhist monastic discipline, disrupts the automatic patterns of daily life. Meals no longer dictate the structure of the day; instead, patience, restraint, and self-awareness take center stage.
As I sat among my fasting friends, I noticed how they met their hunger with a quiet acceptance, not frustration. This reminded me of meditation, where one sits still and watches the mind jump from craving to craving. Just as a meditator learns to observe desires without immediately acting on them, fasting creates a space between impulse and action, offering a direct experience of impermanence (anicca) and non-attachment (anattā).
The Space Between Craving and Freedom
The Buddha taught that suffering (dukkha) arises from attachment and aversion. Ramadan, like Buddhist practice, invites one to encounter craving with mindfulness rather than indulgence. Hunger is not denied but observed; the impulse to eat is acknowledged but not immediately followed.
This practice mirrors a fundamental teaching of the Dhamma: the power of pause. The Austrian psychologist Viktor Frankl once said, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.” This space is where transformation happens. Whether through fasting or meditation, we train the mind to remain equanimous in the face of desire, learning that true freedom lies not in satisfying cravings but in seeing through them.
Compassion as a Path to Liberation
Beyond self-discipline, Ramadan is also a time of generosity and community. Muslims are encouraged to give (zakāt), to reflect on those who have less, and to cultivate gratitude. In the same way, Buddhism teaches dāna, or selfless giving, as a means of reducing attachment and deepening compassion. Both traditions recognize that mindfulness is not just an internal practice but one that extends into how we interact with others.
That night in Australia, as I sat with my friends, I saw Ramadan not just as fasting but as a practice of presence—of patience, mindfulness, and generosity. Though arising from different spiritual traditions, both Ramadan and Buddhist awareness share a profound common ground: they invite practitioners to pause, observe, and transform habitual patterns.
Through fasting and meditation, we learn to see beyond immediate cravings, cultivating patience, clarity, and compassion. And in that shared space of awareness, the boundaries between traditions dissolve, revealing a simple truth: real transformation begins when we learn to be fully present with ourselves.