Saturday, February 21, 2026

Inching Along

3 Ramadhan, 1447

18.17

Roughly an hour left before we break our fast and everything is moving slowly on this seemingly slowest of days.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, especially for those who can embrace the stillness.

23.30

Just got back from a jolly evening spent in the company of Pete & Lia and Kishor. Excellent grub & plenty of catching up. Quite unusual to be socialising so early in the Fasting Month but good to be reminded of a world elsewhere. outside the boundaries of the self.

Friday, February 20, 2026

Still Beginning

2 Ramadhan, 1447

06.32

So consumed by myself yesterday evening that I completely forgot to wish all those holding fast: Selamat Berpuasa! (Also including Christian friends & family in that as they embark on the Lenten season.)

14.20

Just back from a crowded Friday Prayers. I'd forgotten that part of the excitement of Ramadhan is trying to find a decent spot to pray if you're latish arriving at the masjid.

21.00

A quiet evening, just me and The Missus, along with the basics of food & drink. Plus a book and the telly if we want to watch something. A tiny echo of paradise.

Thursday, February 19, 2026

Beginning

1 Ramadhan, 1447

06.35

The way to work awash with birdsong just now. Not a bad way to start the working day.

15.16

Just finished teaching for the day. Feeling a bit weak and light-headed, but only a 'bit' fortunately. Am keenly aware of adjustments being made somewhere, possibly at a cellular level?

18.10

Negotiating the final countdown to the first buka of the month. Feel reasonably fresh after an afternoon snooze. Hope my brothers & sisters in Islam have something of the same sense of ease as we begin again.

21.17

Now very much at ease, and happily expectant of the porridge to come. Savouring the sense of achieving something. Also aware of the happy illusion involved. Achieving something means genuinely extending the possibilities of self and doing so for others. A big ask, as they say. But a question worth posing.

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

In Preparation

Sometimes I'm a bit of a puzzle to myself. In fact, you can make that most of the time. And here's a pressing example. We start fasting for Ramadhan tomorrow and experience shows it's wise to be mentally prepared. Now for some reason I can't grasp, that preparation for me centres upon deciding what special reading I'll do for the month. This really shouldn't work, but it has done in the past and I'm hoping this year will follow a similar pattern.

It's also oddly important that I complete whatever 'secular' reading I'm doing to ensure my head is in the right place, which is why I'd been pushing on with Dostoevsky and the big Jazz book - and fortunately deeply enjoying both. I had been hoping to complete the great Henry Vaughan Collected Poems read-through, but that hasn't been possible. However, since that's been going forever (more than a year now) it wasn't exactly urgent reading.

Anyway, I've figured out what I intend to engage with in the days ahead. A re-read of Seyyed Hossein Nasr's The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam's Mystical Tradition has been on my mind for ages, and now's the right time for a deeper dive that my original encounter (or so I'm hoping.) That's the central text as commentary on the faith, as it were. At the same time I'm intending to really apply myself to key sections of The Study Qur'an, a volume I've hardly begun to do justice to. I'm hoping to engage in very close reading of a number of surahs and at least three of the excellent scholarly essays at the back end of the weighty tome. And since most of the surahs I have in mind are the shorter ones after al-Takwir, I'm looking forwarding to cross-referencing my readings with Michael Sells's interesting versions and commentaries in Approaching The Qur'an, especially for the surahs that he provides a lively analysis of the 'hearing' of. 

So that's it. Do wish me luck, Gentle Reader.

Tuesday, February 17, 2026

A Bit Special

Jazz - A History of America's Music, the companion volume to Ken Burns's PBS documentary, has been on my bookshelves for almost two decades now. It was a very generous present from Peter and Iris on my fiftieth birthday, chosen, I'm guessing, because Peter had picked up on my particular enthusiasm for the work of Wynton Marsalis and the great trumpeter had his name all over the documentary. 

For some reason I didn't see any real need to read the handsome volume all the way through initially. It seemed more like the kind of coffee table book that was worth browsing occasionally for the wonderful pictures, and dipping into now and then for specific bits - looking up what it had to say about classic albums, for example.

Gosh, was I wrong about that. Fortunately I elected to give the book the cover-to-cover treatment a couple of months back and discovered that whilst its engaging anecdotes made for enjoyable reading as individual 'bits', its main writer, Geoffrey C. Ward, had captured in the sweep of the narrative a deeply engaging and insightful history not just of jazz as a genre, but of the US itself, especially, though by no means exclusively, the experience of black Americans in the face of grim oppression.

Of necessity there are some deeply sad sections of the text. Many of the stories about Charlie Parker, to take but one example, are perplexing and almost heart-breaking. But the sense of often astounding creativity is ultimately life-enhancing. Ken Burns identifies Louis Armstrong as the central figure in all this, and it's easy to see his point, but Duke Ellington, already something of a musical hero in my eyes prior to reading the tome, emerged as the most heroic of all in his unmatched elegance and humour in the face of all that life could throw at him. And being a genius in his field helped.

I'm now seriously thinking of getting hold of the authors' book on the Civil War. If it's half as good as this one it will be something special.

Monday, February 16, 2026

Stunned x 100

Didn't want The Brothers Karamazov to end, but it did for me yesterday. My assumption that Dostoevsky would somehow sustain the brilliance of his final novel to the last page was borne out. I'm not sure about the circumstances of its composition, but, like Dickens, the impression of astonishing spontaneity within a capacious frame dominated my reading. And, as with Dickens at his best (Little Dorrit, Bleak House, Our Mutual Friend) Dostoevsky seemed to know exactly how to put his magical jigsaw of meaning together.

In truth, the Russian Master's superiority over The Inimitable, in this novel at least, was wonderfully obvious. To take a single example: both writers are unafraid to deal with the unashamedly sentimental, but in Dickens's case this can topple over into something so blatantly manipulative that even in his greatest fiction there's the danger of unintended bathos. In contrast, Dostoevsky's sentimentality is so vividly sincere that it overwhelms.

The ending of The Brothers Karamazov, focused on a child's funeral, in a sub-plot entirely distinct from the central thrust of the novel really shouldn't work. But it's a triumph. Completely unexpected yet perfect in its evocation of grief and suffering and resilience. 

I'm still rearranging my head over all this.

Sunday, February 15, 2026

In Action

Was pleased, but not surprised, over the news of the British High Court's decision that Palestine Action cannot be banned under the UK government's anti-terrorism laws. It'll be good news, to say the least, for the more than 2500 brave souls (lots of my advanced age and older) who've been arrested for supporting the organisation since its proscription. It seems that Yvette Cooper has been on the telly today defending the legislation and insisting there are good reasons for the ban, yet as far as I'm aware she yet again failed to give any solid indication of what the authorities know about Palestine Action that leads them to think the group is nefarious enough to warrant singling out in this way. I reckon I might have half-believed Ms Cooper, a politician for whom I have some respect, two decades ago, but the track record of every UK govt since Blair's in terms of their transparency apropos dealings in the Middle East has led me towards a position of intensely healthy scepticism regarding what they claim to be their honest dealings.

I think the news might come as a bit of relief to The Missus since I've made it very clear that if we happen to find ourselves in the UK when marches related to the situation in Gaza are on-going, then I'll make sure I'm there declaring my support for the proscribed group. It isn't that I'm keen to serve time in one of His Majesty's prisons (especially not Strangeways, thank you) but if necessary I will. And getting sent down for holding up a cartoon has a real appeal about it.

Saturday, February 14, 2026

True Romance

For me it's been a day spent getting up close and personal with Fyodor Dostoevsky. Meanwhile Noi has been a good deal more productive in her ironing and biscuiting. All built on the solid base of an exchange of suitably slushy cards this morning and a flower or two in the afternoon. None of this setting the world on fire, I suppose, but keeping it nicely warm.

Friday, February 13, 2026

Embracing The Peace

Didn't need to rush back to work after Friday Prayers for once, so we enjoyed teh & vadai & samosas at the Al Rayyan eatery at the back of Masjid Darussalam as the early afternoon flowed gently around us. Nice to conclude a week spent running around, sometimes enjoyably, sometimes in a mild panic, with three hours of distinct peace. The younger version of myself seemed to need to be active & involved, if memory serves me well; the older version, not so much. A lesson learned there somewhere.

Thursday, February 12, 2026

The Human Touch

Found myself back at the National University Hospital for a couple of hours this afternoon, fulfilling my final scheduled appointment with my brain doctor. We reached agreement that my grey matter is functioning effectively, I'm happy to say, which means I have no further appointments scheduled related to my mental & physical breakdown of late 2022, which means I'm a very happy soldier indeed.

Funnily enough I enjoy being around the hospital, and I think Noi does too, so in a way I'll miss popping up there now and again. In truth, since I owe my life to the care of their excellent doctors, nurses and ancillary staff I harbour a genuine affection for the place such that I find it difficult to criticise the organisation on any level. Which is why I've felt severely conflicted regarding my irritation over their records department - and manfully avoided expressing that irritation in this Far Place. But today I'm going to say something.

And that something is this: I reckon it was a big mistake for the hospital administrators to close down the actual office where people could go to in order to ask for their records and put the whole shebang online. The app they provide to enhance communications in general terms is fine, but not in relation to trying to get one's records. I know this for sure since I've been trying to get hold of material that I need to apply for medical insurance in Malaysia and I just couldn't navigate the system (for a full three months). This wasn't due to my sometimes wilful inadequacy in relation to the wonders of tech. Take my word for it, it was genuinely impossible.

But here's the thing. Today, I triumphed and finally got access to what I needed (fairly desperately as I have an application deadline to negotiate) but this wasn't through the help of the app. The doctor I went to see actually listened to the problem I faced sympathetically and went to considerable trouble to contact an amazing lady, Ms Jessica Ko from the records department, who literally ran around initially to find us and then assist us in completing the necessary paperwork to get what we needed, and somehow remained smiling throughout.

So wobbly human stuff once again out-performs the super-efficient and probably expensive system that most likely has put a fair few folk out of work in the interests of cost savings. Could there be a lesson in all this?