At the end of August 2011 many of the world's faiths had a sacred observance. Muslims were celebrating Eid, Hindus were honouring Krishna Janmashtami and Ganesh Chaturthi, and for Jains, Paryushan.

Many of these observances involved fasting, a practice that represents self observation, self restraint, self purification, and the thinking or serving of others. At their core, these observances share the values of justice, peace, truth, and love. It was a beautiful time of year.

To honor the unity of all faiths and of all beings, I fasted for one day and broke my fast after sundown with an hour of meditation. I was weak at the time so I took a silent vow to live out these values in a more significant way the following year. At the time, the idea to fast for Ramadan, in solidarity with our Muslim brothers and sisters, came to mind. I felt this was important to build peace. I also wanted to identify with the essence and beauty of this practice and the people all over the world who maintain selflessness, generosity, and piety for a whole month. I had no intention to call myself a Muslim, Hindu, Christian, or any faith but only to connect with that which is beyond name and at yet the heart of everything.

And now, a year later, Ramadan is well underway. I still don't feel healthy enough to fast for a whole month but after eleven months spent mostly inward and in search of truth, my cup is full enough to naturally overflow into others'. So, for each day of Ramadan I am doing a small and random act of kindness. I am taking on these deeds anonymously so as to not feed my ego and practice detachment from results. Even though I am not fasting, I am living piously, eating simply, and not indulging in pleasurable things (including cookies, which is pretty difficult at times!).

It's only been about 10 days and I have learned a few things about myself and about service. Like how easy it is to give money or something involving a monetary transaction as a way to avoid offering my presence or simply due to convenience and efficiency. Or what I consider "dirty" and "clean" when a homeless man held out his hand to introduce himself to me. And the softening that I have experienced in order to receive graciously. I constantly run up against walls that I have built to protect the stories and un-truths that I have been told, like the one that I shouldn't talk to strangers because they are dangerous. And smilingly, I gently take down the walls and observe the boundlessness of truth.

Most of all, I feel a deep, quiet, radiating joy and immense gratitude for being part of this beautiful world with all of the perfect and lovely creatures. Sustaining these small efforts requires the mind, body, and heart to constantly be in the mode of service and self-awareness, and as each day goes by it becomes habitual. This is a small, barefoot pilgrimage down the winding and dusty streets of my mind, with Eid as a beacon of light and the destination even brighter in the distance.