and then our exile

...that an hour's pleasure bequeath enduring sorrow (related of Abu Darda, radi Allahu 'anhu, by way of [Murtada])

because i flee of Ramadan, she flees of me, i called to her from the depth of Night and she came to me, in the hard air of daylight i neglected her blossoms and she drifted from me, the pinch of regret among lymphic canals, to have bred this tide, i would bury past and future among her folds, and reach for my Lord through her arms (basit kareem iqbal)

seasons turning yet again
the mother's breast is full again
as in heaven, so with men
is now and ever shall be

till we come
till we come again (Bruce C*ckburn)

and start writing some web blogs that normal folks who read normal english can understand (: (Z.K)

This my past and this my history, and this the eighteenth of november two thousand four common era // the fifth of shawwal fourteen twenty-five hijri. i wrote a post about Ramadan a few days ago, but it got lost in the cybermaze, and i do not want to repeat myself--all i'd done was listed the fourteen or fifteen different masajid i'd prayed at least part of taraweeh at, and given some observations on how they affected me.

But some simple principles now at least, because i have not posted in a while--at the very least, know that my quasi-disappointment in Ramadan here was essentially unfounded, a product of naivity. There are more purple blossoms hidden behind the veneer of mediocrity than all your philosophies can encompass--just that you have to actively search them out, nourish them, do so in ways fundamentally different than i knew: because in Edmonton, where the masjid environment is naturally nurturing, some things are a given which here are partially obscured. But there it is. Contentment fostered in the last days of life rends the pain of the past / "the winters of our discontent".

Various politicking around the world going about, but i feel removed from it all. Except for E. ("hey, i found The Arab Street."), there's only a drifting sadness mixed through with impatience, that these peoples' priorities (even in terms of politics) are so misplaced. Not that i'm speaking as part of any elite, just that i'm ashamedly judgemental.

One of the most glorious things on the bus (=miekro.) route returning from Jami'ah Rifa'ee is the monumental mural of the late GrandeHobbit, his hands raised high in acclaim, while around him the farmers, families, teachers, scientists of this nation are busy in productive happiness. i went there on the night of the 27th (Rifa'ee), and it overflowed onto the courtyard outside, onto the sidewalk, parked vehicles lining the streets far around the building: and the du'a in the last rak'ah of tahajjud went on and on, soaring, thousands of people crying out, weeping, yearning, sobbing, reaching in a rising surge, the tides of intensity...
...there were of course less important times during Ramadan, eg. being pushed up against the bathrooms during taraweeh in a corner-neighbourhood-mosque, and having the stench overwhelm me as i got the sense the imam "understood us to be doing aerobics" (Muntaka, February 2003)--but i'd shan't use this time for random anecdotes, because one could contrast anything, and i've given a sum already.

Life continues, there is no immediate /news/ per se...

Someone asked me this morning how many classes i took. When i replied with "i'm not sure", i wasn't trying to impress half-mouldy fascism, i really wasn't sure. Finished the two courses at the university, so these days i'll have 'Arabi privately three times a week, doing Duroos an-Nahwiyyah with AA; excerpts from al-Wadih fi'l-Qawa'id wa'l 'Arab with Shaikh A and A; Hidayatur-Rahman being once a week, ahkam of tajweed with W; Nur ul-Iydah every night, basic Hanafi 'ibadaat with E; Fiqh ul-Manhaji three times a week, basic Shafi'ee fiqh with Shaikh A; assuming i can make it a habit to be awake enough to walk to Jami'ah MuhyidDin after Fajr, i should be doing tasmee' with Shaikh S every morning; to fulfill the requirements of my residency permit, i'll probably have to go to university once in a while to attend various classes, with whoever the professors are.../
So, this is why i'm wondering if even next autumn's call of Western university is all that firm/forbidding. But i'll be in a better decision to decide if even that is an option later on, must only focus on what is here and now. And of course external readings and notes and private workings, i have to start memorizing, etc etc etc.

Is making a list as the above springing out of the desire to show off, though all is of truth? i have to ask this in public, you see, since i've become neurotically attached to self-defeatism.

Last night i stole three books from a roommate // "found" them while he wasn't home. Went through half of one of them as i drifted in and out of sleep: Conscientious Objections, Neil P*stman...at first blush it was the kind of complaining mass-produced to allow those who read it to feel as though they are budding social critics, and streaked-through with arrogance besides. But after i got into the essays they drew me in, to realize he had mental clarity. i can't repeat what he says, but he deals with the trivialization of Glory, the dumbing-down of society, the loss of language, the internments of indoctrination. And all that.

i got home from Kafar Suseh tonight as authentic Chinese food was almost ready, and left them-all to do the dishes as i headed here. i should probably go see if i can belatedly help clean up, or something. And need to buy some coffee.

Think of God and life and cosmos.

ps--i've made pancakes four times.
pps--anyone else notice an awful lot of random references to Machiavelli? because he is stalking me.