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.

Low Points

7 Ramadhan, 1447

I'd half-forgotten, but now vividly, vitally remember, how often the demands of Fasting Month confront me with my numerous inadequacies. The funny thing is that this process sort of makes me feel good - relieved from heavier duties to deal with simple realities and then just get on with the important thing. The fast and its demands.

And whilst I'm on the subject of my less-than-impressive characteristics, it occurs to me that I've never genuinely managed to identify in any real sense with the more 'heroic' figures in literature. The three that spring to mind, that I automatically identified with from first reading, that I'm painfully aware reflect significant bits of me are King Lear, Estragon (from Godot) and Mr Leopold Bloom. Not exactly an impressive triumvirate, eh?

A Low Point

6 Ramadhan, 1447

Life decided to be desperately unfair to me this afternoon, around 5.30. There we were at the basketball court with the session going well, when the natural light began to fade. The solution was simple. Access the controls for the over-hanging lights and just switch them on. But someone had padlocked the doors to the panel, so a call to our Security was necessary. Still simple, except that it had started to rain ferociously and the doors were out in the open. Along came the helpful guard, umbrella in hand, to open the doors and try and switch on the lights. But he was new to the job and, understandably, not at all sure which switches to hit. So he passed the brolly to me and I stepped out heroically into the storm to do the necessary. Simple.

Except doing the necessary involved getting my trousers wet through up to the knees.  In which state I needed to deal with the ensuing two hours. Poor me, eh?

Well, not exactly. The low point was pretty much the solitary blip in a good day. So, facing up to reality, lucky me really. It's nice to wallow in a bit of self-pity, but five minutes' worth was more than enough. 

Looking In

5 Ramadhan, 1447

I wouldn't claim that Seyyed Hossein Nasr's The Garden of Truth is easy reading. At times the prose is dense and the reader needs to tune into quite a number of technical terms, predominantly in Arabic. But after an encounter with the daily news there's something refreshing about a voice providing a quiet, calm sense of authority. 

This reader is more than happy to surrender to the demands involved, just to catch a glimpse of the beauties of the garden.

A Challenge

4 Ramadhan, 1447

19.02

Got myself to the gym just now. I wasn't at all sure this would be a good idea but decided to take the risk, and I'm not feeling any obvious ill effects in the aftermath of my hour on the elliptical trainer. I am, however, feeling astonishingly thirsty and suspect that the next twenty minutes will take several hours to pass.

20.10

It turned out that the twenty minutes that passed between my posting the above and sipping on a class of water took just twenty minutes after all. There's something about fasting that can distort perceptions but the bedrock reality of the fast remains a sort of comforting constant. Each day is a real challenge in its way, and every challenge turns out to be negotiable, with the requisite patience. 

Now feeling happily at ease, able to eat and drink whenever. And mostly choosing not to.

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.

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.

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.