BloggingBrooke, known to faithful readers, posted a reel on Instagram announcing that she had gone viral (whatever that is). She was understandably joyous. I replied, posing a serious question.
Me: Does it add meaning to your life??? Or has it become a chore? Or an obsession.
She: MEANING! It is so fun. Creative outlet. Like your blog.
Me: So great to hear!!
She ❤️ my response. Later I wrote.
Me: By the way I just love that you understand and know that my blog adds meaning to my life. You get it, my fellow famous person.
She: YES!!! It’s such a good outlet!!
Me: I will put this conversation on the blog
Btw Bloggingbrooke is 29, lives in Fort Worth. I met her briefly at the Abu Dhabi Louvre in 2022. We have stayed in touch through Instagram since that chance encounter. What we do, our ways in the world could not be more dissimilar. She is young, out there, inviting feedback and responses, showing the world her way of life. I am old, reclusive in many ways, shun responses, have no idea who reads me (much less why). She has a fiction reading book club, I read the Quran and religious material in private. She and a group of women pride themselves on winning trivia contests. I am trivia clueless. She dresses stylishly, sometimes in revealing clothes. I dress very modestly, often in clothes of the region, not my Western wardrobe. I and her followers know nothing of her religious orientation, I am staunchly a Muslim. In spite of all the differences we are the same, finding meaning in our outreach, our sharing. Our bond somehow gives me hope.
All of this is fine and dandy. However, along came a reel on Instagram speaking of the dangers of fame, the scholar logically speaking of the perils of fame. It is entitled Fame us the new god for some Muslims. And they bow to every day. You’ll see Muslim men and women performing for attention. Fake lies. Fabricated “halal” love stories. Brothers flexing deep and dunya, Sisters launching businesses for the spotlight. Here is the Instagram link: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DIYqKe4JhnY (submitted by @qdissaofislam).
Because we were just discussing fame I sent it to Fazil. He has not commented as yet.
I have loads of catch up. I should perhaps set up a long list of topics to be discussed. Ones put on the back burner, so to speak. Decided I would prioritize, discussing the most important first leaving aside my daily fun encounters which continue in full force.
I have not written of a major, shall we say, Ramadan accomplishment. First an introduction from Muslim Character, the slim totally inspiring paperback.
“Islam considers it a meanness of human nature and lowliness that the hatred should take roots in the heart and may not come out but continue to burn inside like a volcano. Those who nurture rancor and hatred against others in their hearts are always in search of opportunities to vent their inner hatred.”
“There are different stages of rancor and hatred which occur in proportion to the defect and disease. This is not a strange thing because from the olden times people knew about them . Even in pre Islam days rancor was considered to be the lowest stage of the wicked conduct, and decent people always avoided it. A poet of that period, Antara says: “People of high position do not have rancor in their heart, One who has anger in his nature cannot reach high position. “
We should, at this juncture, define rancor. It is bitterness or resentfulness, especially when long-standing. The word has vexing synonyms: malice, ill will, malevolence, malignancy, animosity, acrimony, vengefulness, vitriol, meanness, nastiness. Its antonym is amicability.
Do admit that I have held rancor against my mother, who died at the age of 94 in 2011. It was not unjustified however such acrimony and animosity is contrary to the precepts of the faith. During the days of Ramadan 2025, I was able to overcome this deep seated blemish on my character. It was with the help of the Amandani family. My mother was a very skillful seamstress and dedicated quilter. I have few possessions but two of her treasures are miraculously with me. One is a quilted wall hanging featuring five photos of me graduating from my scholastic endeavors – amazing as I never thought she was proud of my academic achievement. Two cloth photos from high school graduation, one from my University of Alberta graduation in 1964, one in front of legal books from San Francisco Law School, another one in cap and gown signifying perhaps my Masters in Humanities from Dominican University in California. The stitching intricate. Hours and hours of painstaking labor went into it.
Showed it to Mohan one day, explaining why it was treasured. He insisted it should be framed, precious Emma his employee of over twenty years took it to a frame store, You shall see a photograph of the work of art at the conclusion of the blog, It is almost the only personal possession in my apartment. The insistence, the offer speaks to me of the humanity of both Mohan and Emma.
Then this. My mother sewed at my request a long comfortable lounging dress made of exquisite Swiss cotton, when I was twenty four years old, fifty eight years ago. It was definitely showing some signs of wear. Hahaha. Mohan’s sister Devi, a tailor who has lived in Penang her whole life duplicated the design in the finest of fabrics. When wearing it, my mother’s gift and talents live on.
How unlikely that the bridge to freedom from rancor should come from a family originating in India – making Malaysia their home decades ago.
Now see that my mother did not have the tools to either express or demonstrate her love for me during her lifetime. I also can understand and see my role in our fractured relationship. I was stridently making myself into something opposite from her – a reverse role model she became. Anything she could do – I shunned. Anything she could not do – I made every attempt to not only do, but to attempt excellence. During her lifetime I did not see this – although when she did die I wrote an obituary of praise and planned a funeral of which I know she would be proud. During my lifetime I am healing the wound. It is freeing, allowing me to be in the world whole. I fear she would be appalled that I was a Muslim, that I associate with brown- skinned men and women who allowed me to see her more fully, and that I plan to make Malaysia my home. But maybe not – we shall never know.
With inner peace I can take in, rather than try to ignore, the absolute chaos existing in the world of today. Although Gaza is on my mind constantly, I seldom mention it in this blog. My source of my ongoing knowledge is Al Jazeera and Fazilitos Instagram Stories. I replied to a Fazilitos reel showing the horror.
Me: Why is Israel allowed to do this???? It is senseless. What can we as individuals do?
He: Keep sharing. No the overly emotional bits, but those that talk about international law, justice and human rights.
Me: Thank you. That is very helpful to me – “the credit bits that talk about international law, justice and human rights. This answer gives me focus amidst the despair. Will write about that on the blog. He gave me a thumbs up emoji, which I received with immense gratitude. As I write I reflect on the disparity between Bloggingbrooke and Fazil – both individuals in my firmament. The one thing they have in common – met them by chance in a restaurant. Hahaha Who knows, perhaps it was not chance, perhaps it was destiny.
It is definitely time for a little humor. Humor being brought to us from an unlikely source, AI, who probably does not have a sense of humor. But you can use its artificiality for good purpose, Shamir is an AI advocate, spreading the word. The following are two examples.
He messaged me an AI answer to the question of just closing the lid of one’s computer rather than shutting it off. Closing the lid preferable for many reasons. I listened and I learned.
Me: Hey!!! I did not shut off the computer just closed the lid.
He: That’s the best. 💪🏼💪🏼
Me: You and AI will remake me.
He: Hahaha We will create a new Alexis. But don’t worry we will let u keep ur laugh.
Me: Did you confirm that with AI?
He: I will have a meeting with AI
Me: Tell me if he is handsome.
He: Hahahahaha
Then we ventured off in another direction.
Me: My goodness I am not going to see you for days and days.
He: I will send you a sticker of me. Hahaha
Me: Please wear a name tag so I can recognize you. I will now look at the sticker and see if I like it.
He: Hahaha
Me: I added it to my favorites stickers but it is too tiny to capture you true handsomeness.
I then sent him a sticker of me, wearing a blue head scarf.
Me: Whereas my true beauty is evident Hahaha
He: ❤️
On that note I shall close. Photographs will include the framed quilt lovingly assembled by my mother.. The dress fashioned by Devi. I sent Devi the photo
Me: That is me at my best wearing a dress by Devi.
She sent stickers of love and celebration.
This morning I sent her for the following good morning message
Me: This morning sitting watching the sun rise not dramatically, this am. I am listening to the waves and the birds singing joyously. Began the morning in prayer, then writing. Will continue writing as it gives me peace and purpose.
I later sent Devi and other morning greeters the photo of the not dramatically rising sun. You shall see it too. I am not complaining. We do not need drama all of the time. Then a photo of a spectacular sunset sent as a good night message to my WhatsAppers.
You shall hear more of my new friend Yasmin who works in the hotel in her brother’s jewelry store. She sent me the message from Allah’s Messenger which will also follow the blog.
She: You and I underwent this.
Me: My goodness YES. I feel blessed that you sent this to me and that we spoke of our trials today in such a positive way.
The QuranFaith.com Quran quote of the day had special meaning for me. And ‘remember’ when your Lord proclaimed, “‘If you are grateful, I will certainly give you more, But if you are ungrateful, surely My punishment is severe. Quran 14:7. I have so much to be grateful for at this particular moment in my life. Certainly there have been hardships, nonetheless as I said to Fazil, blessings always intertwined with them.
