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	<title>folio &#187; arguments</title>
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	<description>in pursuit of the garden</description>
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		<title>Screams</title>
		<link>http://folio.me.uk/2011/07/screams/</link>
		<comments>http://folio.me.uk/2011/07/screams/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 03 Jul 2011 21:05:53 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Timothy Bowes</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[arguments]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[humility]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[manliness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pride]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://folio.me.uk/?p=2224</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[If you were a real man, she said, you wouldn&#8217;t have tolerated me talking to you like that. She thought it would be her final knock-out blow &#8212; victory hers &#8212; drumming her point home; feeble loser. And by your definition, he replied, if you were the real deal you wouldn&#8217;t have talked to me [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>If you were a real man, she said, you wouldn&#8217;t have tolerated me talking to you like that. She thought it would be her final knock-out blow &#8212; victory hers &#8212; drumming her point home; feeble loser.</p>
<p>And by your definition, he replied, if you were the real deal you wouldn&#8217;t have talked to me like that in the first place. That&#8217;s the trouble with your affected surrender, your fictitious submission, your make-believe humility, your phony servitude, your pseudo piety, your spurious resignation; it has made you the self-righteous parody of the tragedy that befalls us.</p>
<p>You fool, you loser, you imbecile, she screamed, you wimp, you coward, you failure. If you were a real man, you would have put me in my place by now, you would have dealt with me properly. Instead a soft, useless, Westernised sop stands before me, who can only say, &#8216;Yes dear.&#8217; All that is wrong with our community is encapsulated right here, right now, she yelled; feeble, emasculated, decrepit, languid, puny men.</p>
<p>And sanctimonious, conceited women, he rejoined?</p>
<p>Oh how very witty, she screamed, is that the best you can do? Is that all you have in your defence? Is that really all? Be a man, for once. Be a man.</p>
<p>Manliness, he muttered, is to not be a child. Womanliness is the same.</p>
<p>But their screams went on, well into the night.</p>
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		<title>Mundane</title>
		<link>http://folio.me.uk/2011/04/mundane/</link>
		<comments>http://folio.me.uk/2011/04/mundane/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 28 Apr 2011 21:42:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Timothy Bowes</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Reflections]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[arguments]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[rage]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[tests]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[trials]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://folio.me.uk/?p=2185</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Life is filled with trials and tests, but somehow we never recognise half of them in the mundane encounters of daily life. &#8216;Do you think you will be left to say, &#8220;We believe&#8221;, and will not be tested?&#8217; we remind ourselves as calamities unfold on our television screens. Tornados rip a town to pieces, and [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Life is filled with trials and tests, but somehow we never recognise half of them in the mundane encounters of daily life. &#8216;Do you think you will be left to say, &#8220;We believe&#8221;, and will not be tested?&#8217; we remind ourselves as calamities unfold on our television screens. Tornados rip a town to pieces, and we remember. Cruise missiles rain down on a city, and we remember. An earthquake flattens a province, and we remember. But in the disputes between friends, the argument between a husband and his wife, in the pay cut, the job loss, the crashing computer, the rain on a day out, the broken down car, the bill for repairs, the ungrateful response to a favour done, the guest out-staying his welcome and the slugs eating the seedlings in the garden; in all things that demand us to choose between flying into an unholy rage and resigning contentedly to the good in the bad, we forget, repeatedly.We expect the kind of trials we would never be able to bear, wandering on, oblivious to the perpetual assessment that is our life. How easy to decry from afar the deperate residents of a permanent refugee camp picking up the bomb and a gun in rage; how hard to sit down, lie down, repeat one&#8217;s wudu, to bite one&#8217;s tongue, to go for a walk, to simply say sorry, or never-mind, when dinner wasn&#8217;t ready or the tea was cold, when the children raised their voices and scattered toys across the floor, when she had a migraine and forgot your special appointment. How hard it is to face the tests of our lives. How hard. How hard to face the mundane.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		<title>Lessons of the day</title>
		<link>http://folio.me.uk/2010/02/lessons-of-the-day/</link>
		<comments>http://folio.me.uk/2010/02/lessons-of-the-day/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 19 Feb 2010 18:34:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Timothy Bowes</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Reflections]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[adab]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[arguments]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[contempt]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[emnity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[manners]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mistakes]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://folio.me.uk/?p=1776</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[How easily we plant the seed of enmity in our hearts, fostering contempt of our own brothers, and how quickly it grows into a tree bearing bitter fruit. Most days I receive an email from across the Atlantic ocean reminding me of higher wisdom. The last one I read imparted these gems: Wise Quote of [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>How easily we plant the seed of enmity in our hearts, fostering contempt of our own brothers, and how quickly it grows into a tree bearing bitter fruit. Most days I receive an email from across the Atlantic ocean reminding me of higher wisdom. The last one I read imparted these gems:</p>
<blockquote><p><strong>Wise Quote of the Day:</strong><br />
He who desires honor in this world should not make his needs known to anyone in creation, nor should he seek out the faults of any other.  [Bishr al-Hafi]</p>
<p><strong>Guidance of the Day:</strong><br />
Speak truthfully and honor your commitments and your promises, for breaching commitments and breaking promises are signs of hypocrisy.  Be wary of argumentation and wrangling, for they cast rancor into the breasts of men, alienate hearts, and lead to enmity and hatred.  If anyone argues against you and has right on his side, accept what he says, for truth must always be followed.  If, on the other hand, he is wrong, then leave him, for he is ignorant.</p>
<p>Renounce all joking; if very occasionally you do joke to assuage a Muslim&#8217;s heart, then speak only the truth.  Respect Muslims, especially people of merit such as the scholar, the righteous, the nobleman, and the one whose hair has greyed in Islam.  [Al-Haddad,  The Book of Assistance]</p>
<p><strong>Food for Thought:</strong><br />
Be you to others kind and true,<br />
As you&#8217;d have others be to you;<br />
And neither do nor say to men<br />
Whatever you would not take again.</p></blockquote>
<p>But upon reading these words, what then did this foolish soul do? The very opposite, you might say. Chancing upon arguments far too nuanced for my simple mind, I objected &#8212; as so often in my ignorance &#8212; to a misunderstanding on my part, wandering off on another of those great tangents I am famed for. And soon, that unheeded warning &#8212; <em>be wary of argumentation</em> &#8212; had come to life before me.</p>
<p>My ego would blame a stressful week at work, the alleged emergencies and long hours. But I know that ego too well and its love of excuses and blame. In truth I know that silence was better &#8212; indeed as I tapped out my excuses on the keyboard later, it was ever so apparent that I was a fool amongst intellectuals, illuminating nothing but my ignorance.</p>
<p>We love truth and beauty, we say, but at the height of our passions we forget the perfect manners the Beloved, <em>peace be upon him</em>, brought us. Soon we are scrambling not for the pre-eminence of truth, but for the dominance of the ego.</p>
<p>And so suddenly I sit mournfully, regretting my heedlessness, for which I have no excuse. My Inbox stands as witness against me. This from a week ago: &#8216;<em>The spiritual warrior is the one who breaks an idol, and the idol of each person is his ego</em>.&#8217; This from a few days earlier: &#8216;<em>Knowing full well that you have many faults, you actively seek out the faults of others</em>.&#8217; This too: &#8216;<em>Self-existence brings terrible drunkenness, it removes intellect from the head and modesty from the heart</em>.&#8217; Reminders, over and over again, but still this fool remains.</p>
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