Over a decade ago, I said I didn’t get the wisdom of poking a frenzied bear in its eye with a sharp stick. A decade on, I still don’t understand it.
You say it’s called resistance. I say it’s called trying the same tactic over and over again, expecting a different outcome.
The first time the frenzied bear went on a rampage in response, you might have been excused for not knowing what would happen. The second time, perhaps the same.
But after the fourth or fifth time, might we conclude that poking a frenzied bear in its eye with a sharp stick is a counterproductive strategy? Especially since each time you do so, its frenzied rage only increases.
Apparently not. The plan is to keep on poking the frenzied bear in its eye until it decides to change its ways. A bit like the civilised Uncle Pastuzo and his nephew Paddington who, as we all know, can muster little more than a Hard Stare these days.
I hate presenting to bigwigs. They make me feel so small.
All I can say is there’s a reason I occupy a different socio-economic status to my siblings and peers.
I’ll hand back to my manager from here on. I’m better working quietly in the background, my voice unheard.
I could be blaming my biology for poor impulse control where, in fact, I am just lazy and weak-willed, which is just as plausible.
When held to account for all of my bad deeds — so many of them — might I equally discover that my excusing myself holds no weight at all?
Might my Creator, who created me with this condition by no accident, remind me that this was simply my test, like the tests granted those before me?
As it is said, no soul is burdened more than it can bear. So who am to dispute my ability to rise above all that holds me back? Maybe I just need to try a bit harder.
On my return to work yesterday, my manager checked in with me to ask if I was managing okay with the cost of living.
I said I couldn’t grumble. But he went on to tell me he was really struggling with it.
This surprised me because he earns significantly more than I do while living in a two-income household without children.
Yet this is not the first time I have experienced this. Many people who earn vastly more than I do have told me they are struggling.
They have my sympathy, for I do know struggle. Indeed, perhaps it’s precisely because we struggled in the early years of our married life that we ultimately chose the lifestyle we did.
We could have remained in London and taken out an eye-watering mortgage to pay for a house there. We could have later upscaled to an executive home.
But because I have always doubted the security of my employment after struggling so long to secure a reasonable role, we’ve long had a cautious approach towards expenditure, only ever spending what we actually have.
Of course, there are trade-offs here. Long-term readers will recall my gloomy melancholy five years ago as I castigated myself for being an utter failure, stuck in a little house in a poorer neighbourhood, unable to move.
However, that was just a matter of perspective. The advantage of not upsizing is that you won’t need to downsize in later years. And what we lack in indoor space, we make up for with our beloved garden and view.
By God’s great mercy, we find ourselves living comfortable lives, somehow insulated from the cost of living crisis.
Yes, utility bills are soaring, particularly with two teenagers in our midst taking lengthy showers that flood the bathroom daily.
Sure, the cost of food has skyrocketed exponentially. True, we share a 13 year-old, second-hand car between us.
But, just as I told my manager yesterday, I can’t grumble. Nor can we take credit for these immense blessings. Right now, I feel contentment in what we have been bestowed with.
Content, but cautious, as you have to be working in the healthcare sector with the threat of cuts perpetually looming. Twenty years on edge.
Does Copilot in Excel work for anybody? Anecdotally, nobody I know finds it useful. Queries very rarely work. On the odd occasion it does, the answers are not dependable and may incorporate hallucinated (aka incorrect) data.
Colleagues are more enthusiastic about its potential in other applications like Outlook and Teams. Yippee! I’m not one of those people, though, but that’s probably more to do with the way I work than necessarily a shortcoming in the platform.
Still, Microsoft Copilot has a long way to go to be genuinely useful for most people. It’s still very much a novelty, only occasionally useful. On those times I’ve asked it to help with a report, I’ve ended up just doing it myself because it took too long.
Which just goes to show that even if you’re the third richest company in the world, you can still fail to deliver products that offer significant value for your users. Just ask the richest company in the world — Apple — how their foray into AI is going with their botched launch, promising features they’ve had to quickly withdraw because they just don’t work.
None of this is to say AI is useless. I’ve found some genuine use cases, such as reviewing code or helping to make content more accessible. For undertaking initial research, it’s incredibly helpful, although you do still need to verify results given the aforementioned hallucination problems.
But those thinking AI will deliver massive cost-savings and profits are beginning to learn that’s not necessarily the case. Studios are already shunning generative video, realising its promise is much overhyped. And anyone working with critical data is realising that generative AI cannot be trusted for safety.
This could be bad news for governments planning to replace civil servants with technology. At best, in its current form, it can augment roles. Certainly, I see it augmenting my own role; well, it will have to, for the centre is set on shrinking corporate administrative services across the board.
I think it’s better to start thinking of AI as an accessibility aid than a panacea to all of our problems. AI is undoubtedly impressive, but the hype often oversells its capabilities.
The initial excitement around new technology often creates a rush to adopt everything available, but as the market matures, being selective becomes important. Not every new AI feature or platform will meaningfully improve our work or creative processes.
Focusing on the tools that consistently deliver practical benefits while being more cautious about investing in promising but unproven capabilities will help us find a better balance.
But, alas, balance is severely lacking in the decision-making at the top of nations, institutions, and corporations, where those in leadership positions lack genuine technical expertise. The risk is that their imbalance will ultimately sink the ship.
Back to work after a week off. Only 150 emails in my inbox — not bad — and fortunately, most of them were workflow notifications. It’s always a relief to mostly go unnoticed. How I live my life.
For people who live in a flat without a garden, an allotment is a wonderful thing. It was for us.
In those early days of marriage, we lived in a tiny flat in the roof of an old Ealing townhouse that had been converted into multiple flats.
I won’t call them apartments, as that would make them sound too grand. Compartments, maybe.
To have a little plot of land we could call our own, a ten minute walk away was a godsend.
Our little paradise amidst the urban bustle. So helpful to recentre us in those early days.
Of course, now we have a garden all of our own. But it’s still lovely to revisit our old plot from time to time.
A happy place in a neighbourhood filled with memories.
I was a very late adopter of AI, always the skeptic.
Then, about six months ago, I got pulled in by the hype despite being naturally hype-resistant.
At that point, I jumped in headfirst, thinking, wow, this is awesome, diving deep.
But latterly, the hype has begun to wear off as I see and experience things with my own senses. Suddenly, the shine has dulled.
Unfortunately, this realisation strikes after wasting a lot of money on various generative content platforms.
Not all is bad. Great strides forward have been made, without a doubt. A useful tool, for sure.
But hype? Yes, many platforms are definitely overhyped.
However, it takes fresh eyes to see that. After a break, perhaps. A rest. Time away.
From our old allotment with our old neighbours.
Asking the former Archbishop of Canterbury if he forgives a serial abuser makes no sense whatsoever.
If he was a victim of the abuser, he could justifiably forgive any crimes perpetrated against him. That might be considered magnanimous and honourable.
But it is clearly not his place to forgive on behalf of other victims, especially if justice has not been served.
The Archbishop does not speak on behalf of God, so where did the journalist get that idea from, other than religious illiteracy?
God may forgive all sins, even if they are like mountains. But that requires sincere repentance and seeking to make amends.
When a person has wronged others, it’s rather more complicated. Perhaps all the sins of the victims will be heaped on the abuser as compensation for the wrongs done to them.
God is forgiving, yes, but also Most Just. Unlike mankind which is often neither.
Mashallah, our community of around 5000 souls raised over £100,000 for the less fortunate this Ramadan.
May Allah reward the generous amongst us and increase us in good deeds. Seeds of a unified community.
For thirty years, I’ve framed my inner battles as purely spiritual challenges, which I continuously seem to fail. But just last night, after taking myself to task for repeating decades-old mistakes, I was confronted by a new thought: could there be more to this than just a spiritual malady. In short, how does my spiritual journey intersect with a chromosome disorder which manifests numerous cognitive and psychosocial traits?
In Islam, the nafs represents our self, soul, or ego — the inner force that can incline toward good or evil. The Qur’an describes three states of this spiritual development:
Nafs al-Ammarah (the commanding self): our base self, pulled toward desires and disobedience.
"Indeed, the soul is ever inclined to evil, except those upon whom my Lord has mercy." — Quran 12:53
Nafs al-Lawwamah (the self-reproaching self): the conscience that recognises faults and feels remorse.
"And I swear by the self-reproaching soul." — Quran 75:2
Nafs al-Mutmainnah (the tranquil self): a soul at peace with God’s will.
"O tranquil soul, return to your Lord, well-pleased and pleasing. Enter among My servants. Enter My Paradise." — Quran 89:27-30
My concern is what happens when this universal spiritual framework intersects with the biological impacts of a chromosome disorder potentially manifesting neurodivergence? Could it be that I have been misinterpreting neurological differences as spiritual shortcomings?
The commanding self and impulse control
For those with particular cognitive differences associated with this aneuploidy, the struggle with nafs may feel more intense. The challenges faced are often not just about resisting desires or wrongdoing, but also about managing impulses, emotions, and reactions that feel outside of one’s control.
Some individuals with this condition often experience difficulties with impulse control, which makes it harder to resist temptations or act with patience. If you have difficulty delaying gratification, it might feel like the nafs al-ammarah is constantly in control.
If I act impulsively — speaking without thinking or making decisions I later regret — is this truly nafs al-ammarah dominating my spirit? Or could it be related to executive functioning challenges typical in people with this aneuploidy?
For years, I’ve taken myself to task for these failures of self-discipline. But what if these impulses aren’t entirely within my control in the same way they might be for people with typical cognitive development? Does God judge the effort differently when the playing field isn’t level?
The reproaching self and emotional regulation
Some individuals also struggle with emotional regulation. Intense feelings can become overwhelming and hard to control, often leading to an inner self-reproach that aligns with the concept of nafs al-Lawwamah.
At times, my own emotions can feel more intense, more urgent than others seem to experience. When I feel distracted during prayer, or overwhelmed by sensory aspects of worship, I’ll generally interpret this as spiritual weakness.
But what if these experiences are partly shaped by how my brain processes information and emotion? The constant self-reproach of nafs al-lawwamah feels particularly heavy when you’re already prone to emotional dysregulation.
This internal conflict can be tiring. You may experience a wave of guilt when emotions get the best of you, making it hard to find inner peace. But this inner struggle is part of the human condition. Nafs al-Lawwamah represents the conscience’s call for growth, and this feeling of guilt often leads to spiritual development.
The tranquil self and divergent paths
Ultimately, the goal is to work towards nafs al-mutmainnah — the tranquil self. This is not a state of perfection but represents the peace that comes from recognising God’s will in every moment. For individuals tested by cognitive differences, this process might involve seeking strategies that cater to your own specific needs.
Spiritual growth doesn’t follow a linear path. Nafs al-mutmainnah isn’t an unreachable state but a continual journey. It’s about finding peace within the struggle, accepting your unique challenges, and trusting in God’s mercy.
Perhaps reaching nafs al-mutmainnah for someone with a chromosomal variation involves different strategies. Maybe my path to spiritual tranquillity requires accommodations I’ve denied myself by insisting my struggles were purely spiritual in nature.
I’m beginning to wonder if true spiritual growth for me might involve acknowledging my apparent difference as part of God’s design rather than an obstacle to overcome. Perhaps my chromosome disorder isn’t separate from my spiritual journey but integral to it.
What if the real test isn’t about forcing my brain to function like everyone else’s, but about finding my unique path to spiritual connection within the framework God has given me? Could it be that the compassion I need to develop starts with understanding my own neurological reality rather than continuously judging myself by mainstream standards of spiritual discipline?
Finding a balanced perspective
I don’t have definitive answers here. But after thirty years of viewing my struggles through only one lens, I’m ready to explore this intersection of nafs and biology — not as an excuse, but as a more complete understanding of my journey towards God.
This isn’t to absolve myself of personal responsibility, but to understand the nature of the challenge. The spiritual struggle remains real regardless, but perhaps the strategies needed might differ.
Might the path of disciplining the nafs look different for someone with different biological or cognitive makeup? I wonder if the journey toward nafs al-mutmainnah might manifest differently across different neurological profiles. Not easier or harder, just different in its contours and challenges.
The struggle with nafs is a universal experience, but for those with divergent traits, it can sometimes feel more pronounced. By acknowledging our own unique challenges, developing self-compassion, and relying on God’s guidance, perhaps we can navigate this struggle and move towards the tranquil self, trusting that our efforts are part of a greater plan.
In the end, God knows best the nature of our tests and the sincerity of our efforts. I know I must continue to strive to reform my soul, even as I seek to understand more deeply the particular nature of my own striving.
I somehow manage to wreck every Ramadan.
Fasting from food and drink has always been made easy for me, mashaAllah.
But as for subduing my domineering nafs? That’s seemingly an impossible task.
The sad reality is that my 27th Ramadan is little different from my first or second.
The same commanding self that spoilt those early fasts continues to harangue me to this very day.
Am I afflicted as other men are, or am I unique in seemingly never making any progress at all?
Sometimes, it seems that way, for it’s in these last nights of Ramadan that we tend to encounter the ultra-pious who put us to shame.
Their worship seems to be on another level, reminding the lax amongst us how far we fall short and how much we squandered the opportunities of a month of mercy.
Others end Ramadan with a sense of achievement. Me? No, only with a sense of self-reproach.
I gave up food and drink for the daylight hours for a month. But, alas, my lower self continued to run amok.
If only I could rise above it to celebrate a month of true inner reform as other men do.
Instead, I’m left with a hopeful dua: May Allah have mercy on my soul.
