We are all intent upon the pursuit of our goals, whether we are raising a family, advancing in a career, conducting research, pursuing a degree, or physically traveling from one place to another. However, sometimes so many details can crowd our minds that it becomes nearly impossible to see the path before us. In those situations, instead of forging blindly ahead, doing the best we can and hoping that somehow things work themselves out, it may be best to pause, assess what is happening, and take the time to sort out the factors causing the confusion and definitively determine what we need to do next.

I have come to such a crossroads, and as a result I have decided to take a day off for fasting and contemplation. I might have said fasting and prayer, but I am concerned that using the word “prayer” would exclude the more secular-minded. Whether you prefer to refer to it as fasting and prayer or fasting and contemplation, the point is that you cease forward motion. You come to a full stop. You allow the fog to lift and the dust to settle before you continue onward.

I do not do this lightheartedly or frivolously, but at certain times in the past I have felt an overwhelming need to pause. For instance, after my first trip to Europe and India, I returned to the United States uneasy and dissatisfied. I decided to go back to India, specifically to a commune I’d encountered in Goa, to find some answers. I set off hitchhiking across the United States, from west coast to east, in the middle of winter. After landing in Europe, I continued hitchhiking across the bitterly cold continent, and then through Turkey, Iran, and Pakistan. The journey took two months and along the way I faced numerous life-threatening dangers. I had just crossed into the state of Goa, India, riding in the open back of a truck, when I realized that I had to stop and calm down before I reached my destination. My thoughts were in survival mode, in a frantic state of continuing forward motion regardless of the obstacles. However, I was about to commence a significant chapter of my life and I did not want to rush into it. So instead of going all the way to Calangute Beach, which was my ultimate goal, I alighted from the truck near a small village at Anjuna Beach. Before hiking down to the shoreline, I stopped at a hut near the road, introduced myself to the friendly inhabitants, and left there all my possessions, including my duffle bag and even my shoes, continuing along the path to the beach with only the clothes I was wearing. It was off-season. I found an abandoned straw shack right on the beach and stayed there for three days and three nights, sleeping on the sandy floor of the shack and spending my days walking back and forth along the shore contemplating my life. I would have fasted, but on the first day I met the owner of a seasonally closed beachside restaurant who offered to feed me once a day for free. At the end of those three days of rest and meditation, refreshed and clear-headed, I retrieved my belongings and traveled onward to my destiny.

Another significant pause occurred during my first trip to India. I had almost run out of money; I had just enough left to make it on public transportation back across the Middle East to Europe and my flight home. However, I had not yet seen Nepal, so instead of taking the safe route, I headed north to the Himalayas. I spent some time in Kathmandu and then took a bus to Pokhara. I spent the first night there in my sleeping bag beside a lake near the town. The next morning I saw the splendid Himalayan peaks in the distance and decided to take a trek. I found an unmarked trail to the west of town and began to climb the foothills higher and higher, reveling in the landscape’s beauty and the clear clean air. After spending the night at a hostel in a tiny village, I continued onward and upward. Soon I would reach the snow line. And I thought: What am I doing? Where am I going? Those were the all-consuming questions. To attempt to come up with some sort of answer, I turned aside from the trail and climbed a grass-covered hillock from which I could see the gorgeous snowy peaks. I sat there for a long, long time contemplating my life’s journey until that point. I realized that in a sense, on my travels so far, I was fleeing from the confusion and uncertainty inherent in humankind. But to continue on into the mountains would only result in my death. Instead, I had to go back down, learn to live with inherently imperfect others, and find my destiny amidst it all.

These are rather flamboyant examples of contemplative interludes. I have occasionally paused my life for fasting and contemplation through the years since then – not often, but whenever I felt the need. Fasting food is not obligatory, but it helps you to remain single-minded, and you save time you would otherwise spend preparing food, eating, and cleaning up. The most important thing is the mental focus. You step back and look at your life, untangle the difficulties if you can, and find clear paths going forward.

On this particular occasion I am fasting food, the daily remote work I do only for money, and screen time (which includes TV, films, and social media feeds, although I am open to calls on phone or Messenger from loved ones). I’ve taken a long walk, which has allowed me to consider issues I am concerned with. I have been writing this essay, which is part of the contemplative experience. And I have initiated a document on which I record my thoughts on the pressing issues that prompted this pause from the usual habits and patterns of life. Already I have felt positive benefits. Already I have gained insight on how to approach certain perplexing problems. Already I see ways forward. Sometimes it’s tempting to feel that you can’t stop what you are doing or everything will fall apart. However, sometimes pausing is exactly what you need to do. The universe will go on, never fear, and you may find some crucial answers and directions.

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