Fasting is a very old tradition within many faiths, including my own. Fast to cleanse the body and clear the mind, as an offering in times of mourning, in times of preparation--the forty days of fast before feasting. Physical hunger as a reminder of the finitude of this world--pains that bring one inward, to that space that would never be filled by the bread of humans. By depriving one's body, one's soul was able to focus on that which is beyond, the seventh chakra, God--to prepare for that celebration.

We as a culture are unfamiliar with such a ritual--willfull depravity? You don't see many ads that say, "Hey you really SHOULDN'T buy this product--go for a walk and meditate, why don't you?" That sort of attitude would be the death of the American Way of Life as we know it.

What could this possibly have to do with Ecuador, you wonder. A lot, from where I sit, in a comfortable home in one of the wealthiest countries in the world, where all my needs and many more of my wants are taken care of, by virtue of my birth and very little of my own merit. I know how we are accustomed to live, and I have seen what it means for other parts of the world--Ecuador exports more oil to the U.S. than to any other nation. And I have seen what oil has left for the people of Ecuador--not 'development' as promised, not schools and hospitals and lives like those they see one satelite tv.

No, what they do have are roads covered in crude to keep the dust down, which wears out shoes and washes into the water table when it rains; and next to these roads are pipelines that suck out oil and hope and carry to the coast for export and sometimes they break because they are so old and because no amount of technology is 100% secure; and they have cancer rates that the director of the Association of the Hydorcarbon Industry of Ecuador blamed on the 'greasy, 3-meal-a-day diet' that westernization has brought and which representatives from the U.S. Embassy accredited to runoff from coca processing plants on the Colombian border. Not our fault, essentially.

And my question is, who's going to just buck up and take responsibility? Enough of this sidelining blame--it is unacceptable that a public health crisis is left to get worse while Texaco uses all its corporate prowess to get the class-action law-suit filed by 30,000 Ecuadorians more then a decade ago tried in Ecuador, where it keeps out of the eye of scrutinous (or not so) U.S. citizens.

But even more unacceptable is that MY petroleum-dependent lifestyle depends on, legitimizes, perpetuates situations like this--I use energy on the grid, plastic products are numerous among my belongings, I really like to travel. In the year 2006, I flew 13 times--Argentina, Chile, New Orleans, El Paso, Mexico City, Quito--I am so so grateful for these experiences. And I can recognize an area where I can do with less.

Now, I don't claim to be nor WANT to be an purist. In my own life, I feel that would be dangerous and ultimately unhelpful. But I CAN recognize ways I can contribute to building the world I want to see--my lifestyle matters, at a micro and macro level.

And so I come back to the idea of the FAST. I have thought about my habits over just the last year. I'm a vegetarian. I don't own a car. But I have been a fuel glutton when it comes to flying. If the whole world traveled like I did, we'd probably be in the next ice-age (or heat-age). So I'm starting a fast. It's a little out of order--the fast AFTER the feast--but still meaningful, I think. This is something I can do, some way I can respond to the despair that I saw in the Oriente. I'm going on a fuel fast. I'm going to be best friends with my bike and the Pierce County Transit. I'm going to think conciously about getting in a car. I'm making a promise not to fly for one year--which will be interesting, considering I already have plans to go to Arkansas over spring break. It's a 2 1/5 day bus ride. But a fast means giving something up and feeling it. That's why it wouldn't work for me to give up computer games for Lent. I wouldn't even notice. Besides, I kind of like the Greyhound--and it demands a certain compassion and patience that more convenient movement might not cultivate.

I know my fuel reduction won't cure Rita Maldonado's skin disease, or change at all the amount of crude being pumped from the Amazon basin. That's not my goal. Rather, for me, this is a spiritual journey, and exercise of an ancient ritual of awareness through solidarity with those with less. I fast to make space for others and for God, to CHOOSE who I will be and what effect I will have in this world, to not be passive. I fast now joyfully because I have feasted constantly and I am thankful for it--but for the people of the Oriente, I can wait at least a year to feast again.