“The so-kalled salafeez are constipated of speech and not unlike the village puritans of bourgeois taste”, he claimed, swigging from the bottle. “They are however, and thank the Lord, neither of the right or left.” “O come now, said his compagnon, laying down his Mirror, surely they’re of the right?” “But what of their inclination to ressentiment?” he retorted in deadly earnest – remember Lady Gregory’s motto: “To think like a wise man, but to express oneself like the common people.

We had pointed out to them yonks ago that Aydolfus had attained Macht

via the b. box, but insan, the pupil of the eye, forgets. Who were they? The mygrant kontrol volks.

Pascal was mired in doubt but nevertheless he was wily enough to

encourage folk to the deen at that time, knowing it would enrich them in the dunya and the akhira. So take heed you rucksacked cravatted townies aspiring to success: health, strength, balance and riches are contained therein.

The moment tells all; but more so time tells.

No busques la fama
ni siquiera busques la primavera en invierno
sino más bien la Mesa de as-Samad.

Y las madres pueden labrar la tierra después del parto, pero es mejor esperar un mes lunar.

Orhan Gazi batıya gittiğinde borsa ve kağıt liranın dünyasının sona erdiğini görmek için mi?

The Capo of Ketama soon came to see the newcomers, but losing interest in the poor pickings and the lack of trade he spread himself jointly, speaking in humble recognition of the hegomony of the king’s sister over the grass fields; no wonder then that later a mere half a pound interested the taxi-driver in acquiring his minor cut from the local cop-shop; and that kept officialdom and the local curious court in pay for a while.

The Qadi is to wait a full lunar before inserting the ahkam between people new to him – to acquire a minimum of ‘urf and akklimatization:

tutherwise too long a wait congeals the ties to the locals making decisions pénible –

like the Capo di Mistley, fresh from Essex way, only to find the omertà was there unknown: “But surely you see its alive and kicking in new coloured clothes.”

He depth-charged the sea of the murid’s nafs to see how the lay of the land was when his bits from the heavens fell back to the waves in the pre-ordained pattern.

He needed more living space, dared not say Lebensraum: and then it came, the relief of the idhn from der Qual der Wahl, the space beyond space.

And wanted to enter the indented fjord-like coastline of the west – rather than the smooth map of the east – where the big waves were.

Spontaaneus, sponte sua, can be dangerous to freiheit if the millisecond decision of the moment breaks habits.

“Waiting for disaster?”

“Why yes, we Weegurs in the Schul-Gulag anxiously anticipate an earthquake, although an invading horde shall do, or Korona v. to free us.

Only two klasses: the poor and the rich, the middle are the poor and rich in spontaneous spontaneity.”

Some are so obsessed with tribulations that the ease of contentment in the Garden is so foreign that better kling to the present problems

than suffer the risk of bliss.

For the seera of the Mursal, if the recipe is received,

better be an outcast when the truth hits the clean sheet of papier:

for the baggage-free bloke may become frei to more tangibly take on a new history, other than the official one of normality prescribed coercively when young; and frei to take on another kuntree, push the borders of the nafs to bestow another lingo on it.

Then on to Pythagoras’ spontaneity and a touch of Isadora D. to liven up the stodge of academia, beyond Anabasis and back to Bach for the audio of

listening, listening, listening.