Living Dangerously (Sort Of)

I'm in one of those periods when I enact my rather pitiful version of living dangerously. How so? Let me give you two 'real life' illustrations, Gentle Reader.

Number One: At one point today I found myself moving particularly quickly to get to an important 'event' on time. This involved moving down some stairs. Fortunately I had the wherewithal to remind myself that, within recent memory, I've come pretty close to losing my footing doing the same thing and was lucky not to have taken a pretty significant tumble. I happened to chat with a colleague about this a few weeks back who referred to having done something similar and he was telling me that with age we can have problems with what is termed 'depth perception' by those who know these things. His advice to me, and mine to him, was to keep hold of the nearest available handrail when we feel we have no choice but to move at speed. Today I took my own, and my colleague's, advice and all was well.

Number Two: In the early evening I discovered that I'd somehow failed to take note of an important event (not in inverted commas this time as it really is an event in the usual meaning of the term) taking place over the weekend at which my presence is a must. As I get older I'm increasingly forgetful, which can have its advantages in terms of not worrying overmuch over stuff, but has the built-in disadvantage of being professionally a bit risky. Anyway, said event is now noted and I'll be there, God willing.

So there it is, my version of living on the edge. Nothing really happened, but it was exciting in its way, as you may agree. (But do feel free to disagree. I won't take offence.)

Normal Service Resumed

I went back to reading The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes after Ramadhan reached its happy conclusion and now have around fifteen tales left to go before I can say I have completed the canon. Unfortunately there's something of a critical consensus that by the last couple of collections, His Last Bow and The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes, Conan Doyle had run out of steam - and, possibly, real interest in his creations - and was running on empty. I'm five stories into the penultimate collection and I can see what the critics mean.

But having said that I must say that the fourth of the novellas featuring the Great Detective, The Valley of Fear, which I read back in February, struck me as being the best of the bunch. This is despite the fact that like A Study in Scarlet and The Sign of Four it features the clumsy telling of an extended back-story after Holmes has solved the initial mystery. In this case, though, there's a genuine puzzle as to how exactly the characters in the back-story relate to those in the first half of the murder mystery, and the pay-off of the ending is strong and satisfying. Plus the writer invests his fearful valley in the United States, which features in the second half, with real menace such that the reader doesn't miss Holmes & Watson (who aren't there, of course) at all.

I suspect I won't really miss them either once I get to the end of the clunky, chunky Complete. I seem to have been reading it forever, even though it's been only some seven months (with two month-long breaks, I hasten to add.)

No Fooling

Lots to do, so essentially a serious day. Was witness to the usual kind of folly encountered in my line of work. So managed a smile here & there. But not enough to provoke actual laughter.

Funny how, as a child, one spent a fair amount of time just laughing. Funny that nothing is quite so funny any more.

O Happy Day

Hari Raya Puasa, Eid ul-Fitr; 1 Syawal, 1446

06.55

Just completed the Dawn Prayer after donning my baju raya. Now sipping on a milo, which feels happily transgressive somehow, even though it very happily isn't. Will be on our way to the second session for Hari Raya Prayers at Masjid Darussalam quite soon - but should happily have time for a big coffee - my first for a month - ahead of that.

10.00

Now back from the masjid. A beautiful morning - overcast, with just the slightest touch of drizzling rain now & then, enough to cool and refresh. Noi is about to continue her preparations for our guests this afternoon. And I'll get a bit of work done. And I mean a 'bit'.

14.05

Noi has just invited one or two other folk around, beyond the expected guests from family. She advised Boon to bring a container. Sounds like she's been cooking on an epic scale. But since she stayed up all night doing 'stuff' - as she is wont to do every year on the eve of Raya - this is not exactly news.

17.50

Our first tranche of guests have been sent happily on their way(s). Now preparing for Part 2 of the proceedings. It's all go!

22.06

And having said farewell to the second tranche of well-fed visitors there's just time to wish everyone everywhere Eid Mubarak! and we're off to a brief sojourn in the Land of Nod.

A Bit Of A Diversion

29 Ramadhan, 1446

During the vacation week, some fourteen days ago, I realised I would be easily able to complete the reading I'd planned for Fasting Month. Isa Kamari's Pilgrimage was proving an easy, quick read, and, if anything, I needed to slow myself down in my second encounter with Ziauddin Sardar's fascinating Reading The Qur'an in order to have time to genuinely reflect on ideas that powerfully resonated with me. I deliberately spun out my reading, finishing the book yesterday, happily musing upon its interpretation in its final sections of the role of Science and the Arts in Islamic thought. But this meant I had ample time to get on with something else of reasonable substance over the second half of the month - and I wondered whether to simply get back to my 'on-going' reading of fiction (which meant resuming my chunky The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes.)

In the event I hit upon a neat solution to this mild dilemma. It struck me that having come to  the conclusion some time back that I could more than happily buy into the proofs for the existence of God offered by Prof Ed Feser, I wasn't capable of explaining any of the proofs in genuine detail to anyone who might be foolhardy enough to ask me to do so. Basically this reflected lazy thinking on my part. Having completely accepted Aristotelean metaphysics - indeed, having felt their illuminating power - I couldn't give a coherent outline of Aristotle's system even to myself.

So it was that I decided a reread of Prof Feser's The Last Superstition was in order. In addition to providing the exposition of Aristotelean ideas I needed to reacquaint myself with and thoroughly take on board, I thought I might enjoy the writer's indulgence in what is often a bracingly funny polemic against the self-styled New Atheists who were so vocal and full of themselves at the onset of this century. In the event I thoroughly enjoyed re-visiting all the jokes and, this time round, I reckon I have a good chance of really internalising the key ideas that kept escaping me. And just to make sure they lodge in this tired old brain of mine I've decided to reread the other two key works by the prof that sit on my shelves ahead of Ramadhan 1447, insy'allah. 

The Bigger Picture

28 Ramadhan, 1446

We enjoyed an excellent natter with John & Jeanette last Sunday, gainfully zooming in across the miles. In the course of our less-than-in-depth discussion of issues of a geo-political colouring it emerged that the Simpsons and their social circles are finding it difficult to avoid reference to the current POTUS, even though nobody wants to go there (to the issues, I mean, as opposed to the actual place. Though I don't think anyone's particularly keen to fly the Atlantic as things stand.) They were wondering if that's the way of things in this Far Place and, yes, I reckon it is. Reference to the craziness of the governing regime is sparing, since it's deeply depressing, but ultimately irresistible, since its's deeply real.

So even as I seek to cultivate my spiritual garden in Fasting Month I can't help but expose myself to Trump news at a glance. And then wish I hadn't.

In Production

27 Ramadhan, 1446

Readers familiar with the musings featured in this Far Place will know that the final days of the Fasting Month see heightened activity in this household. Not from Yours Truly, I hasten to add, but from The Missus who dedicates her remarkable energy and talents to putting the house in order whilst simultaneously magicking up lots of festive goodies. Some of these are intended for consumption within the premises, but most are sold to those who've been made aware of the magic involved. These now constitute quite a number.

There's something strangely comforting about being surrounded by biscuits & cakes & the like even when you're not actually munching on them.

Keeping It Fresh

26 Ramadhan, 1446

For the last couple of years my choices of Islamic-themed materials for reading in the Holy Month have gone well. I'm on track for finishing Ziauddin Sardar's excellent Reading The Qur'an ahead of Eid. There's been at least one penetrating idea on every page and often more. It's another example of my re-reading of a text I thought I knew quite well being quite startling in terms of the 'freshness' of the experience.

And I found reading Isa Kamari's Pilgrimage, an English translation of a selection of his poems related to his experience of the Haj in 2001, equally fulfilling - and helpful in my appreciation of the Malay language as the originals are published alongside Harry Aveling's deft translations. In this case I wouldn't characterise the poems as 'penetrating' in their evocations of what it's like to fulfil the demands of Haj; rather their lean simplicity and sincerity conjure that singular yet shared experience in a way I found deeply sympathetic to my own rather less articulated feelings.

And now I'm off to do some actual reading as opposed to just prattling about it.

Enlightenment

25 Ramadhan, 1446

When you're seeking for illumination sometimes just a little light is enough.

Weakness

24 Ramadhan, 1446

When I suffered my breakdown back in September 2022 I learnt a deep lesson about vulnerability. Quite a simple, indeed, obvious one, but a lesson that's easy to forget - certainly for myself, and I suspect for most people. Here's a simple statement of that lesson: We are all painfully vulnerable, and wisdom lies in understanding how easily we, and our little worlds, can fall apart. I think I'm a bit wiser now for cultivating that awareness and part of the wisdom of the Fasting Month is getting in touch head-on with that vulnerability. Weakness is written into the fabric of the human condition, and an awareness that there have been more than a few moments in which I have not handled the demands of the month in an entirely robust manner is a reminder of that essential, unavoidable truth.

When I come to celebrate getting through the month (as, God willing, I hope I'll be able to do in just a few days) I'll be reminding myself that any celebration should be of just getting through. And not triumphantly so. Just keeping going. Holding on.

Just keeping it real.