Out & About

17 Ramadhan, 1447

One of the patterns of Ramadhan for me, established over decades, has been a tendency to keep things inward for the first half of the month, and then move more obviously into the outer world. It looks as if something similar is starting to take place.

This evening, for the first time, Noi and I went out to do a bit of shopping at the market adjacent to Clementi Mall and in the mall itself. No big deal, of course, but there was a freshness about our unhurried strolling at the market that felt appropriate for this stage of the month. It reminded me of just how much I enjoy evenings in this part of the world, especially when there's a bit of breeze to disturb the warm, thick stillness in the air.

We've just feasted on the bundle we brought home from the KFC at the mall. Noi has always been a bit of a fan of the franchise and, over the years, I've acquired something of a taste for their output, as long as we don't sample it too often. This evening's munching felt appropriate. Just enough, as The Missus rightly announced as we happily concluded.

All very optimal.

Broadening The Mind

16 Ramadhan, 1447

Part 4 of Seyyed Hossein Nasr's The Garden of Truth is very different from the parts that precede it. This final part of the book comprises two extended appendices which basically survey, in a methodically dry fashion, various major schools of Sufi thought in the Islamic world, followed by a history of what the writer terms the tradition of theoretical gnosis. This is in stark contrast to the fascinating exposition-cum-exploration of the range of philosophical ideas that came earlier. But there's another kind of fascination involved.

The barrage of names of what are obviously major figures in what be termed spiritual thought and experience suggest networks of ideas that transcend immediate historical circumstances. They constitute a kind of alternative history outside the usual historical narratives. I suspect I'll never really carve out the time to achieve a genuine familiarity with all this, but at least I've managed to know it's there. A way of acquiring a powerfully wider perspective to my own thought.

Halfway There

15 Ramadhan, 1447

Older, but no wiser, here I am counting the days to ending the fast. More than a bit sad, really, especially when I know I am gaining so much, as always, from the experience, which is always the same and always different.

For example, as ever I feel at this stage of the month pretty much completely adjusted to the rhythms of the challenge; yet, unexpectedly, I zonked out majorly in the late afternoon in a sleep so deep I almost failed to rescue myself on the alarm I'd wisely set. I suspect I might not otherwise have surfaced until now.

Not exactly a role model, eh?

On The Way

14 Ramadhan, 1447

06.24

Just walked across to start the working day under a glorious almost full moon, accompanied by birdsong and the whirring of various furiously busy insects. The world getting underway. What's not to like, eh?

22.50

And now at the other end of the day. Dark out. Cloudy. The moon no longer visible. But, let's face it, you can't have everything, can you?

Stretched

13 Ramadhan, 1447

In some ways it's a good thing to be kept busy on a day of fasting. It helps the time pass at something close to normal speed and takes one's mind off one's basic appetites. But the utility of stretching oneself becomes doubtful when breaking point comes close. 

That didn't happen to me today, partly because I'm wary enough to know it could happen. Hope the same is true for other busy souls feeling stretched at this time.

What's Really Real

12 Ramadhan, 1447

Noi has driven up to Melaka with her chum Nosiah, to see family there. They'll have broken their fast in good company at Khalsom's Warong. So that's good.

Which leaves me home alone to break my fast. So not so good. But not so bad either. A flask of optimal teh tarik and a plateful of coin prata have eased the ache.

I used to think of fasting as an individual thing. And on a simple, literal level it is. But real things are never simple. And the point of the fast is to transcend the individual to arrive at a place that is far more real.

Still Challenged

11 Ramadhan, 1447

Have now got into the habit of going to the gym ahead of breaking the fast, just to do a stint on the elliptical trainer and forgoing the weights. It saves cutting into what feels like wonderfully 'free' time in the evening after buka and it seems to be working in that I've been steadily increasing the degree of resistance on the trainer with each visit and have suffered no ill effects so far.

For this afternoon's session I had the resistance set at its highest from the get-go since I instinctively felt I had enough energy to cope. Must say though, for the first ten minutes I thought I'd seriously miscalculated. It was difficult to get any real speed going and I was huffing and puffing more than I expected to. But after that things got easier; or, rather, I found myself accepting the level of difficulty without the anxiety that I would break down at any moment.

I'm hoping to get myself to the gym at least ten times this Ramadhan. It adds to the challenges of the fast, but in a way that seems aligned to the greater purpose.

Heartening

10 Ramadhan, 1447

Spent some time today looking over to the land of my birth - indeed, the actual town. Denton is a fair distance from this Far Place, but it occupies a small place in my heart. I'm so much out of touch these days that I didn't know it is now combined with Gorton - where Dad hailed from - as a parliamentary constituency. And I didn't realise there was a feeling it is now vulnerable to Reform until I read that the egregious Farage and his dumb chums thought they were in with a chance of winning the by-election held on Thursday.

So it was with some relief when I saw that Reform was well out-voted into second place. But I really didn't know what to make of the victory for the Green Party, being a Labour-for-life sort of chap, even when disapproving of what the party occasionally gets up to.

Then today I watched the victory speech of the new MP, one Hannah Spencer, and found myself thoroughly enjoying it. Indeed, even thinking I might have voted for the lass had I been there myself, based on just how well she came across. I suppose the warmth of her local accent played a part (though she comes from Bolton, I believe, rather than Tameside) but it was the common sense of her content that did it for me.

That and the pained expression on the face of the defeated Reform guy. I really shouldn't enjoy witnessing the misfortunes of others in Fasting Month, but I just can't help it.

Hard Work

9 Ramadhan, 1447

It's still crowded at Masjid Tentera for Friday Prayers, and will undoubtedly remain so throughout this Holy Month. Today I was able to get there quite early though, so getting a reasonable place wasn't too difficult. And just for a change I didn't need to make my way back to work in the afternoon, so I was able to relax after all was concluded.

I'm guessing I was a fortunate exception. Today I noticed for the first time just how many of the jama'ah were wearing overalls, clearly having made their way directly from work, and most likely in a rush to get back, judging from the speed at which many left. As we were driving away, Noi noticed one guy wearing overalls that she recognised as those of someone working at the port - which makes sense considering the proximity of the mosque to the port entrance at the bottom of Clementi Road.

I hope that these guys did not have to face demanding physical labour in the hot afternoon. But I suspect that more than a few did. The spiritual dedication of so many of them in relation to real physical struggling in his month is one of the quiet astonishments of Ramadhan.

A Good Thing

8 Ramadhan, 1447

Just polished off a plateful of bangers & mash & gravy. Not exactly a traditional meal for Ramadhan, but deeply good all the same. Food tastes better in Fasting Month. Not sure why, but it does, and there's no need to think about it too deeply. Just enjoy it in the moment.