I stared at the egg.
I stared at the egg a long time.
It was a boiled egg.
It threatened me, that egg.
It threaded to derail my fast.

All I had to do was crack open its smug shiny shell, peel the shell off and – yummy.

But I resisted.
I walked away.
The integrity of my fast remained intact.

It’s interesting, the games your mind plays when you fast. Anyone who does an extended fast – and I call anything more than two days an extended fast – knows that the temptation to break the fast comes not through hunger, as such. It comes through desire.

Desire is different to hunger.
Hunger is a physical primitive function.
Designed to keep you, and the species, alive.
Desire is illusory.
Desire is sly imagination.
Desire is a femme fatale.

I didn’t hunger for that egg.
I desired it.
It was my femme fatale.
But I walked away.

Today is Father’s Day here in Australia. My wife and eldest son want to take me to lunch, or cook me a Father’s Day dinner.

Should I break my six day fast to take them up on their kindness?
I’ll let you know what I decide!