Performance Art

A former colleague from my previous school once told me he couldn't understand how I managed to look so calm and unflustered when talking to a largish audience of parents about the school's programme for its first year students. I'd sort of been selected as the spokesperson for the school in my third and final year there since it was generally agreed that I looked calm in pretty much every public situation, almost as if I was enjoying myself and this would go down well with what nowadays gets termed 'stakeholders'. My answer seemed to take the questioner by surprise, and took me a moment or two to figure out myself since I'd not really ever asked that question of myself at the time in question.

I'm just pretending to be calm. I'm a pretty good actor and it seems to work. (Not sure that that's exactly what I said, but it's close.)

What I didn't get into is the weirdness of acting and the way you (well, me, anyway) start to feel exactly what you are pretending to feel. To this day my pulse races - I think - before speaking in public (except in front of a class) so the nervousness, the being flustered, is real. But it disappears once the act begins.

I sometimes wonder if physical fear might disappear if one pretends to be brave. But I'm too much of a coward to try that one out.

A Matter Of Disagreement

The desire of my colleagues to avoid any real disagreement over various aspects of teaching strikes me as very odd. There's so much to heartily disagree on that it seems a wasted opportunity not to explore necessary and helpful differences of practice and opinion. To tell the truth, I'm not too sure I've ever really agreed with myself on some fundamentals of the trade.

Over the weekend I experienced a distinct shift in opinion with regard to the brave new world of AI, and I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with what I now think I think. It would be nice to feel certain over these matters, I suppose, but not terribly exciting.

The Old Normal

It seems a long time since Fasting Month concluded. The tiny miracle of eating & drinking at any time of day is now taken for granted. And we've done particularly well for ourselves this weekend with a lunch at Ismail's place yesterday and baked potatoes with tuna & corn & salad just now, resulting in my feeling distinctly full. (I resisted the temptation of embracing a second helping on the grounds that I can no longer deal with being bloated in the manner my younger self could just about cope with.)

So there we have it - one of the unexpected benefits of the fast: it becomes difficult to take the simple joys of the everyday for granted. Thus intensifying those joys.

Not a bad pay-off in its way.

Extreme Gratitude

I think that keeping a Gratitude Journal is a jolly good idea. I don't do so myself - not exactly sure why not, probably lack of time rather than lack of gratitude - but if I did today's entry would read: I feel profoundly grateful for the accident of living my life at broadly the same time as that of Sir Paul McCartney.

This thought came upon me (and I suspect lots of other folks) yesterday when the lyric video for Days We Left Behind made it to YouTube. Ironically the line No one needs to cry made me do precisely the opposite to what it enjoins.

Thinking It Out

Not sure that this thought from yesterday was in any way original for me, but it felt newly minted. And here it comes: Joyce represents three entirely distinct modes of consciousness for the key characters in Ulysses, yet they are all versions of himself - Poldy, Stephen and Molly. (Yes, I know Molly is Nora, but Jim inhabits his long-suffering Wife & Muse.)

How did he do it? Genius, yes, but a kind of absolute honesty about the nature of the self helped.

I can't aspire to that. But I can offer a rapidly written list of modes of thought - knocked off in ten minutes - that seem to me so individual as to hardly overlap. And here it comes: relaxed day dreaming of the wish fulfilment variety; sexual fantasizing; figuring out a schedule when impossibly busy; reading fiction and responding; reading non-fiction and responding; listening to poetry that works; listening to poetry that doesn't work; remembering stuff that happened in childhood; listening to a friend; listening to criticism of oneself; listening to something you're not listening to.

In Thought

Managed to find some time today to think about thinking. Was basically playing around with thoughts I've experienced many times before when it occurred to me that the thoughts were not exactly mine but thoughts I'd somehow picked up from others and, in some surreptitious way, made my own. Except I had no sense that they in any way belonged to me. In fact, I was distantly aware that I was just a vehicle for the thoughts and belonged to them.

Now, there's a thought.

Getting Back To Business

Quite a taxing first day of term at work, made slightly more challenging due to the fact that we reached our usual Far Place quite late in the day yesterday and I felt as if I would have benefitted from a couple of hours more sleep than I managed. The highway home was typically dense with traffic, which Noi negotiated with some aplomb to ensure we arrived in one piece, even if later than expected. No, that's not really true. We knew ahead of the weekend that we would be lucky to be afforded any easy journey over the Raya weekend, so were lucky that the drive up to Melaka was reasonably smooth. Basically we expected delays on Monday and got them more than amply.

One variation on our usual practice worked well for us, though. We came back via the crossing at Woodlands rather than by Tuas and getting through immigration on both sides was easy enough. Something to be thankful for, even if I'm moaning a wee bit here.

Talking It Out

We weren't sure that Hamzah & family would come over to Mak's house yesterday, with the loss of Sharifah so fresh, but happily they were able to do so. This added even more significance to the prayers read, and I think helped with the process of grieving for all the family. I felt some relief myself being able to talk at length to Hamzah about pretty much everything, our conversation going on to the early hours. They set off back to Shah Alam in the late morning, I hope feeling a tiny bit better for the warmth & support of all around them.

And we ourselves will be departing yet again in a couple of hours. There's always more to get on with, part of the gift of being alive.

Presence And Absence

We've driven up to Melaka for the second day of Raya. The family will be reading Surah Ya-Sin in the evening for Sharifah. Much cheerful noise just now for the distribution of packets and taking of photos. A way of compensating for the silence.

A Sort Of Beginning

Hari Raya Puasa, Eid ul-Fitr; 1 Syawal, 1447

07.43

About to enjoy a large mug of coffee at a time that feels wrong but is right again. Now adjusting to the loose demands of the usual routine on a happily special day.

10.06

Well, that was a more exciting morning than expected. We arrived at Masjid Darussalam at what we thought was a decent time for the second shift of prayers for Raya only to discover they'd already started. Fortunately the helpful attendants outside re-directed us to a void deck just across the road where it turned out that the overspill from the crowded mosque (still under renovations) was being accommodated and we got there with five minutes to spare. Now gently recovering at home, though Noi is a bit behind in her preparations as a result of her unforeseen trip to KL the other day. She just said it doesn't really feel like Raya with the house still mildly unready, but with prayers performed it does to me. Must say, I like praying at a void deck in something close to the open air, especially on a happily sunny morning. Sort of au naturel in its way.

21.05

A loud and cheerful afternoon has turned into a quiet and fairly restful evening following the departure of our guests. It's good to celebrate. And good to cogitate afterwards.

And better still to wish to all who held fast: Eid Mubarak!

Making An Ending

30 Ramadhan, 1447

15.31

I've been on the go with stuff for work, shopping for Raya, tidying up and attending Friday Prayers since the early morning. Noi arrived back from Malaysia at 5.10 am and I opted to stay up and get the day in motion rather than going back to bed after sahur and doing the dawn prayer. Now I'm feeling the effects and also feeling oddly impatient to finish the fast. I say 'oddly' since I haven't felt this way since Day 3.

19.04

Close to buka, and still impatient. You'd think after all these years I'd have learnt something about waiting. And I have. But not enough.

21.05

Neither Noi nor myself have any great appetite after breaking the fast. This evening we're just finishing off bits & pieces left over the last few days along with a few boiled sweet potatoes we picked up in the morning's shopping. All very easy and highly satisfactory. A fitting low-key climax to all the effort of the last thirty days.

Lighting Up

29 Ramadhan, 1447

It's time to try and find some kind of light in the darkness.

Loss

28 Ramadhan, 1447

A day darkly coloured by deeply sad family news. We'd been worried by recent developments in Sharifah's illness throughout the month and these culminated in what felt like the sudden news of her death as Maghrib arrived today. She'd been in isolation in hospital since early in the month and been struggling with a lung infection. Things appeared to have taken a turn for the better recently, though, and she was actually back on an ordinary ward yesterday. But her oxygen levels suddenly dropped today and she was rushed to ICU. It seems the damage caused to her lungs by the infection was irreparable. 

Noi & Rozita are now working out how they are going to get to KL for the funeral, which is likely to take place tomorrow morning. Unfortunately I'm stuck here meeting deadlines and will be sticking to our original plan of travelling north over the Raya weekend. At least, it looks that way at the moment but things are understandably in flux.

But regardless of any planning the sense of loss is powerful. Hamza and the children have had time to prepare, but that's never really enough to help cope with the passing of someone so dearly loved & regarded.

Changing Times

27 Ramadhan, 1447

We found ourselves in Geylang in the late afternoon. We were there essentially to pay zakat, a mission we accomplished at Darul Arqam without too much fuss. The building, by the way, has undergone some kind of renovation which has meant changes to the interior decor. I'm afraid that none of this appealed at all to Noi and myself, custodians of the way things used to be as we are.

Something similar applied to the general ambiance of this year's bazaar at Geylang. It felt distinctly low-key having been considerably reduced in scope. Now there are hardly any stalls at all on the side of the road where Darul Arqam is positioned. This made it easy to walk there, just as it had been easy to find a place to park, but we missed the cheerful inconvenience of previous years.

Mind you, we were wandering around before the festive lights were to be switched on and the whole thing may have proved more happening later. Noi was talking about going again in the evening in the days that remain, but not with any great keenness. I suppose we miss the days of yore. Just hope that for those who are newly making memories the sense of genuine celebration of the Holy Month remains.

Across The Miles

26 Ramadhan, 1447

Just concluded a long distance chat between ourselves and John & Jeanette. Both ends of the chat moaning about the state of the world.  Both ends finding some relief in venting their feelings about certain individuals they held largely responsible for such. Both ends naming the same names. 

I think both couples felt that little bit better for that aspect of the discussion. But better still was just the chatting about friends & family and feeling warmer & richer and that little bit more normal in the process. 

Losing Count

25 Ramadhan, 1447

Just five days to observe the fast left after today. And since we're now enjoying the start of the one week March vacation it would appear that the deepest challenges are now over. But you never know.

Just like I never really know my real step count for the day. The app thingy on my phone frequently ends the day telling me I've managed more than 10,000 steps, only for the number to mysteriously decline by the time the next day begins. Not sure why and how the rounding down takes place because I don't care about the count in any real sense.

Numbers seem real, but are deceiving. They can only point in broad directions no matter how precise they seem. (Except when you're building a house. Then you seriously need to get them right. There are limits to philosophising, you know.)

A Matter Of Routine

24 Ramadhan, 1447

Got to the gym ahead of breaking the fast yet again. It's now something of a routine and no longer feels that little bit strange, that tiny bit daring, as it did initially. Even The Missus no longer expresses any particular concern as I make my way down to do my thing.

As the month began I set a broad target of ten visits to the gym over the course of Ramadhan and today I recorded the ninth. Which makes me complacently pleased with myself - until I recall just how much I've struggled  to keep going for the full hour on the elliptical trainer, even when I've lowered the resistance. Today it was at full resistance and the muscles in my legs are sort of remembering that even as I sit and relax. 

Hoping to avoid the ambush of a sudden burst of cramp as I lie sleeping later. But will treat it as a reasonable price to pay if I have to suffer such.

Dreaming

23 Ramadhan, 1447

18.40

Off to The Esplanade for a bit of dance this evening. The Dream of Red Mansions, performed by the National Ballet of China. Tired but up for this. More anon.

21.18

It’s intermission time. A break from the ridiculously gorgeous beauty of the evening. Looking forward to further luxuriating.

11.55

Part 1 of the ballet was wonderful and, remarkably, Part 2 was even better, with its darker hues and distinct sense of melancholy. A number of unforgettable images. Kept wanting to capture the moving canvas of the stage and couldn't - which is the whole point, I suppose, of this kind of transient beauty.

Something Found

22 Ramadhan, 1447

Still no time to luxuriate in sweet sounds. But managed a few minutes with The Modfather in top form essaying a blistering live version of Eton Rifles. I'm not claiming it made my day, but it went some way to ensuring that things didn't fall apart on me, providing an injection of energy at just the right time.

Something Missing

21 Ramadhan, 1447

So far it's been a week without music. And, sadly, that looks set to continue. I'm starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms. 

I'll put this right, probably quite loudly, over the weekend. Good to have something to look forward to, eh?

More Than Enough

20 Ramadhan, 1447

The busiest day of the Fasting Month so far. Which meant that it passed exceptionally quickly yet very slowly. Each hour seemed intense, leaving little time to think except for dealing with that which cried out to be dealt with.

Fortunately the busy stuff came to a sharp conclusion once I'd got back to break the fast (delayed, oh dear!) and caught up with all the prayers. Now it's time to look back and ask whether I remained true to the fast. Put simply, did I display grace under pressure, as the fast relentlessly demands?

Well, it wasn't a disaster, so I can enjoy this reflective moment, at least to some small degree. But the final report, as usual, reads, Could do better.

Enough

19 Ramadhan, 1447

Sometimes it's enough just to get to the end of the day. But mine isn't really finished yet.

So Many Voices

18 Ramadhan, 1447

The dire situation in the Middle East keeps pulling us away from personal concerns, as I'm sure it does for lots of folk around the globe. But the problem is getting real knowledge & understanding of what exactly is taking place. Of course, this is true of our grasp of any 'current event', but once the fog of war descends the feeling of disorientation can be intense.

So far the single most convincingly coherent commentary I've heard comes from a recent podcast from Chris Hedges. I'll be interested to play this again a year hence and see how accurate the analysis from Messers Hedges & Crooke proves in hindsight.

Can't help but wonder about the kind of Ramadhan being experienced by people in Tehran, Beirut, etc. 

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.