23 Days and I Survived


I ended my fast on Friday September 29th after 23 days.  I could have gone longer, but I had no one to cater to me, or bring me water while I was resting in bed.  I had to do everything for myself.

What happened on Thursday night influenced me to stop the fast.  I fainted, but was only out less than a minute.  I fell on the floor after thinking I had to lie down while sitting at my desk.  I got up to lie down and was on the floor in no time.

How good it felt to be lying on the floor!  I could not get up, but I did not want to.  I could not move, but it felt fantastic.  I was tingling all over!  And that is when a voice in my head said, “This could be your body dropping a hint.”

I laughed out loud.

The voice continued, “You don’t have to wait until you are so desperate for food when you break your fast.”

This is what I was planning to do: wait until I was desperate.  My body said, “No!”


No one trusted my body to tell me when to stop fasting.  When anyone asked, “How long are you going to go for?”

“My body will tell me when to break the fast,” I replied.

WELL!  That was the wrong answer.  Of course, anyone who asked felt I should end the fast immediately and not trust my body to tell me.

Nature is all about survival.  How often have you seen a plant growing between cracks in the concrete?  My body would not let me starve.  Survival!

The people who did not trust my body to guide me have no trouble listening to their bodies regarding going toiley and eating and sleeping.

These same people do not trust their Inner Guidance and hate Silence.  They want some outside authority to tell them what to do and how to think and how to experience the mysterious.



When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,

Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

                                                                              – Walt Whitman


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About the Author

I am Minnie and Chic's son.