Raising Arizona

This weeks Boneyard (p)article comes straight from Tucson Arizona, in which Howe Gelb gives his guide to fasting. Buckle up. Some call it a ‘fast’. There are other names for it. It’s the process of elimination. To get rid of too much of yourself.

I mean, “What’s been piling on here, Halo?

“I’ll tell ya what… Way too much consuming.

“You’ve taken this consumer thing, and made it an art.

“And now it’s time for the stuff that has latched on to yourself and made itself a new home… To depart.”

So. I put on the brakes. Stop everything. No more mezcal. No more swill. No more eating to fill the void. No, sir. No more coffee, too.

Squeeze a few lemons into a gallon of water, a splash of maple syrup, a dash of cayenne – and that’s all ya get for the next 10 days.

I’ve been doing it for 30 some years annually, if not almost annually. It works. It gets rid of some of you. Poof. Gone.

And when you’re on the fast, you are removed from the other humans surrounding you. Look at how much they consume. Non-stop consuming. Piling it on. The fast, instead, is a place of not being wherever you are.

Eating and drinking are mere hobbies for other folks to enjoy.

Day one: …Is okay. Not bad. A little inconvenient. Hopefully you weened yourself down from your caffeine intake by cutting your morning beans with decaf until decaf has taken over completely. Day one is an irritation.

Day two: Is annoying. It’s a real drag. All your impulses are screaming for compliance as they wither… I didn’t take the caffeine withdrawal serious enough.

My head is gonna implode from the coffee vacuum. The day is long. Why would anyone call this a fast when the day is so slow. Day two sucks.

Day three: Ya wake up. You feel different. Something is happening. You feeling nothing. There’s no pain or irritation or annoyance. You feel fine. A little like a ghost maybe… But very fine, because the fasting is easy on day three. There are no issues.

And on top of that, you realise all the money that you’re saving by not eating – and especially not drinking. You’ve got tons of extra coin now. Day three is invisible.

Day four: Dang. Everything is so bright and clear. You can see for miles. And listen to that… Every sound is amplified and detailed like never before. As for the sense of smell, it’s way over the top. And everything smells fantastic in the kitchen. Food has become a brilliant art form. The kitchen is a museum. I think I’m tripping. All my senses have gone off the charts, as if the body now has all this extra energy from not digesting to give to my senses that are amplified like super man on acid. Day four is monumental. Day four is also mental.

Day five: The body starts eating itself. How nice. I am the supermarket now to anything my inner frame work craves for dinner. Day five is sad that day four has ended, but otherwise day five is making the fast thing pay off. Day five is a pay off.

Day six: The body just picks and chooses what it wants, and plucks off sections of fat to devour. Ya never know from where. One time I came face to face with Bob Dylan on day six. He just looked at me and shook his head. I had become skeletal. I was the invisible man. Almost. Day six is a thinning.

Day seven: You find yourself going to the supermarket, and enjoying all the fine arts of displayed fruits and veggies. The colours alone seem exceptional. You also insist on cooking the family meals. The smells and textures of food preparation is sublime. Addicting even. You love food, and are, at the same time, happy to have to deal with the ups and downs of digestion. Day seven is lucky. Probably.

Day eight: Oh, forget it… It’s the same old thing everyday. You’re not hungry. You’re losing weight like crazy now. You wonder how many weeks can you do this. Day eight is only a date.

Day nine: Seriously. There’s nothing to report. It’s the same thing over-and-over. By now, you’re impossibly wealthy from not being a consumer. Day nine is super fine.

Day ten: Okay cap’n… Let’s bring this puppy in for a landing. I know it feels like you could go on for another ten days… But you ain’t thinking right man. Dude, you’re disappearing. Time to stop. Day ten is whacked. And that’s that. But now ya can’t do it anymore.

No.

It turns out it’s not healthy for people over 65. There are many nutrients that need to be taken into daily consideration.

So, instead, from this day on, the annual fast will become a cleanse only. Not so extreme. Not the vanishing it once was. And you miss it. Year 65 is a compromise.

But you’ve been banished from the vanished.