Where Muslims meet

Every year, I’ve watched my Muslim friends move through Ramadan with intentionality and grit.They’ve told me it’s not just about hunger. It’s about discipline. About patience. About purification. About becoming more aware of what you consume, what you say, and how you carry yourself. It’s about gratitude. It’s about restraint. It’s about community.From the outside, it has always seemed like more than just a fast. It’s a reset.This year, Muzz has launched an initiative where for every day a non-Muslim employee fasts, the company donates £100 to a charity of our choice. Because of this, I decided to try fasting for the entire month. I’m about a week in now, and in a small way, I’ve been able to experience what so many people around me return to every year.Here are some of the quiet reflections this month has already given me.

Continuing to work full days, attend meetings, and move through responsibilities without food or water until sunset has been humbling. A week in, my body has started adjusting to the new rhythm.What once felt intimidating now feels manageable.It’s made me realize how quickly we underestimate our own resilience. When there’s purpose behind discomfort, the body adapts. That alone feels like a powerful reminder of what intentional discipline can unlock.

One of the biggest surprises for me has been noticing how much I consume on a normal day.Not just meals, but also media. Music. Scrolling. Background noise. Constant input.Because fasting already requires awareness, I’ve tried to reduce some of that consumption too. Less music. Less passive scrolling. And what’s been left behind is stillness.It’s made me aware of how rarely I allow myself to sit in silence. Ramadan has created space where there is usually noise. That space has felt grounding and peaceful thus far. 

Fasting isn’t only about what enters the body; it’s also about what leaves the mouth.I’ve noticed how easily I swear, complain, or speak impulsively. During this month, I’ve been trying to pause before reacting. Trying to speak more mindfully. Trying to withhold the sharper comments that come easily in everyday life.It’s uncomfortable, but revealing.It’s easy to normalize gossip, sarcasm, or unnecessary criticism. But intentionally holding back has shown me how much power there is in restraint and choosing not to say everything that comes to mind.

By the time it’s time to break my fast, I’m convinced I could eat a horse. But in reality, I’m full much sooner than I expect.A few bites. A few sips of water. And I feel satisfied.Water tastes different when you’ve waited for it all day. Food feels less routine and more meaningful.It’s made me reflect on how often I eat out of boredom or habit. How often abundance feels ordinary. Hunger, even temporarily, reframes that.

There’s something powerful about knowing your day is built around intention. From sunrise to sunset, there’s awareness. There’s accountability.It has made me more conscious of my habits overall. What I reach for when I’m tired, stressed, or bored. Ramadan doesn’t just remove food; it exposes patterns.In that exposure, there’s clarity.

One thing I’ve felt deeply this past week is how communal Ramadan is meant to be.Because my family isn’t Muslim, I don’t break my fast surrounded by others who are fasting too. I don’t wake up in a household moving together toward suhoor. I don’t naturally experience the shared rhythm that makes the month feel collective.And I’ve realized how meaningful that must be.Fasting alone can feel quiet. Almost isolating at times. It’s made me appreciate how powerful group iftars, mosque visits, and family meals must be. I’m hoping to attend at least one mosque night and join friends’ family iftars as the month continues, because even from the outside, it’s clear that community is part of what makes Ramadan transformative.I’m only a week in, and I know I’m experiencing just a fraction of what this month holds for those who observe it every year.But even in this small participation, I’ve gotten clarity.For those moving through Ramadan right now, I hope these reflections serve as small reminders of the quiet work this month is doing beneath the surface.Ramadan Mubarak.

Ramadan, the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, holds a uniquely special place in the hearts of Muslims worldwide. It’s a time when we collectively observe a spiritual fast, abstaining from food and drink from the early moments of dawn until the sunset. The entire process of fasting gives us a chance to develop “Taqwa,” God consciousness, which reflects in the way we conduct ourselves. 

The month is divided into 3 sections called “Ashra,” which is an Arabic word meaning “ten”. Each Ashra consists of 10 days and each has a different spiritual theme. This blog will focus on the first Ashra which is the first ten days of the month and its spiritual theme.

An important aspiration for all Muslims during the first ashra is to receive Allah’s boundless Mercy that offers solace in hardships, relief in painful moments, and rescue from seemingly impossible circumstances. This is why a specific du’a (supplication) is recited frequently during the first 10 days.

However, mere words of invocation are not enough. Our pleas for Mercy must be paired with righteous actions. A powerful way to earn it is by engaging in good deeds and actively remembering the less privileged. This focus on the poor is, after all, central to the act of fasting itself, which cultivates empathy for those who experience hunger and instills a deep sense of gratitude within us. 

One of the good deeds that is not only an obligation but also very much loved by Allah is Zakat (charity). It is also one of the five pillars of Islam. According to a hadith, the Prophet (Peace be upon him) was asked “which fast was most virtuous after Ramadan? He said: “Sha’ban in honor of Ramadan” He said: “Which charity is best?” He (PBUH) said: “Charity in Ramadan.” (Sahih Hadith Vol. 2, Book 2, Hadith 663). Imagine asking Allah for His mercy constantly and then performing acts that are loved by Him! Charity provides us with a sense of salvation and in Ramadan the rewards and blessings of the act double. 

For several people around the world going through difficult situations and living in crises, Ramadan is a difficult time. They may not even have the basics to observe the month. That is where charity becomes a hope for them. It is the best way to help others and remove any kind of unhealthy attachment to wealth. You can give charity here. The contribution you make, no matter how big or small, can truly transform lives and get you closer to getting Allah’s mercy.

Muzz is organizing this Ramadan charity initiative to support families affected by the ongoing crisis in Sudan.

Give your Zakat and Sadaqah today.Be a source of Allah’s mercy for others and earn it for yourself.

👉 Donate now and transform a life this Ramadan.

There is a particular stillness that comes before Ramadan.It does not arrive all at once. It begins as a whisper.A saved recipe you promise to try this year. A message in the family group chat about moon sighting predictions. The soft realization that your heart has been running too fast for too long and is finally being invited to slow down.Living in the West, Ramadan often feels like something you carry privately. The streets do not change. The work emails do not pause. Coffee shops still fill at eight in the morning with people ordering drinks you are trying not to think about. Nothing outside announces that a sacred month is approaching. And yet, everything inside you knows.

Preparing for Ramadan here is less about decoration and more about intention. There are no lanterns hanging from every storefront, no collective hush before Maghrib drifting through the city air.So the preparation becomes inward.You start noticing your own habits.How quickly you scroll.How easily you postpone prayer.How often your tongue moves before your heart has caught up.Ramadan preparation, in the West especially, feels like slowly coming home to yourself. Like clearing space in a crowded room you forgot was yours.You tell yourself this year will be different.Not louder.Not more aesthetic.Just more sincere.

There is a quiet loneliness some of us carry during Ramadan here.Breaking fast in a small apartment.Praying Taraweeh in a corner of your room because the mosque is too far after work.Watching families gather online while you heat up leftovers alone.But hidden inside that loneliness is a tender mercy.Because when no one else sees your fasting, your restraint, your whispered dua in the dark, it belongs completely to Allah.No performance. No applause.Just you and the One who sees everything. And maybe that is a gift only this distance can give.

Preparation starts to look like small, almost invisible choices.Deleting the apps that swallow your evenings.Making a quiet list of people you need to forgive.Buying dates from the one halal store across town.Promising yourself you will open the Qur’an even on the tired days.None of it looks dramatic. But hearts rarely change through dramatic moments.They change through gentle, repeated turning.Again.And again.And again.

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned to measure Ramadan by productivity.How many pages read.How many prayers completed.How many perfectly plated iftars.But Ramadan was never meant to be a performance report.It is an invitation.A soft knocking on the door of your life.Come back.Rest here.Let Me carry what you have been carrying alone.Preparing for Ramadan, then, is not about becoming perfect before it begins.It is about arriving honest.Tired, maybe.Hopeful, definitely.Still believing that hearts can change in thirty days.

So here we are again, standing on the edge of a month that feels both familiar and completely new.Maybe this is the year you finally forgive yourself. Maybe this is the year prayer feels less heavy. Maybe this is the year you understand that Allah was never far.You were only distracted by the noise.Wherever you are in the West, whatever your Ramadan will look like, may this month find you gently.May your hunger soften you, not harden you. May your nights feel witnessed.May your dua reach places you thought were closed forever.And when Eid comes, too quickly as it always does, may you look back and realizeyou did not just fast from food.You returned to Allah. And He had been waiting all along. 🌙