We will have karate tonight over Zoom, and I did get in a run on the treadmill yesterday.
I meditated for ten minutes in front of the sow thistle and mallow, hoping to see finches. Instead, a yellow and black striped hornet and a large black bee, and several sweat bees wove in and out of my weedy yard forest. I must have watched for several minutes before noticing the white spiderweb, hidden death, stretched out in nearly the center of that tiny paradise.
Today I brought out a translation of the Qur’an and, like a Torah, it reads from right to left. I only got through part of the translator’s introduction before it eas time to write in this journal. I still have a schedule, even during meditation week.
A. Yuesuf ‘Ali, the translator, spoke of what led him to translate his holy book into English. He’d experienced a personal tragedy that he did not divulge, and devoted himself to the work. The idea was one that had been with him for years, and he’d collected materials and notes over forty years. After journeying to Lahore, he shared his ideas with some young friends. His project excited them. They encouraged him to write, found a publisher, a calligrapher for the Arabic text, and a printer. (Note: his name has a “u” with an umlaut that I’m writing here as ue. Not sure how to find special characters yet.)
He wrote his preface in 1934, so between the two world wars, after India’s Declaration of Independence was passed there but before Pakistan’s own Lahore Resolution.
1934 was about three years before my father was born, but my dear aunt, who helped raise me, would have been three years old.
The birds are still singing. Behind me, a squirrel scolded some creature, possibly that cat from yesterday for another squirrel.
Jessica texted: her employer furloughed her from her job this week. I will call her today.
