In My Hands Today…

The Nazi Mind: Twelve Warnings from History – Laurence Rees

How could the Nazis have committed the crimes they did? Why did commandants of concentration and death camps willingly – often enthusiastically – oversee mass murder? How could ordinary Germans have tolerated the removal of the Jews? In THE NAZI MIND, bestselling author Laurence Rees combines history and the latest research in psychology to help answer some of the most perplexing questions surrounding the Second World War and the Holocaust.

Ultimately, he delves into the darkness to explain how and why these people were capable of committing the worst crime in the history of the world. Rees traces the rise and eventual fall of the Nazis through the lens of ‘twelve warnings’ – from talk about ‘them’ and ‘us’ to the escalation of racism – whilst also highlighting signs to look out for in present day leaders.

Rees uses previously unpublished testimony from former Nazis and those who grew up in the Nazi system, and in-depth psychological insights including cutting edge work on obedience, authority and the brain. THE NAZI MIND is a revelatory new way of understanding how so many people committed the most appalling crime of the 20th century.

Poem: The People Who Love Libraries

There has always been something quietly comforting about libraries and bookstores. Perhaps it is the silence, the scent of paper, or the feeling that entire worlds are waiting patiently on shelves to be discovered. For some of us, these places become more than buildings filled with books. They become sanctuaries. Spaces where we can escape, wander, reflect, and feel understood without having to explain ourselves. This poem is a love letter to libraries, bookstores, and to the people who find pieces of themselves hidden among the shelves.

The People Who Love Libraries

There is a certain kind of person
who walks into a library
and immediately breathes easier.

You can spot us quietly.

We wander slowly between shelves
without needing help.
We run our fingers across spines
as though greeting old friends.
We stand in corners reading blurbs
for books we may never borrow,
yet somehow still feel grateful exist.

Libraries are strange places.

Thousands of voices live there,
yet nobody raises their volume.
Entire wars, love stories, heartbreaks,
adventures, philosophies and confessions
sit quietly beside one another
without demanding attention.

And somehow,
inside all that silence,
some of us feel understood.

Maybe it is because books do not judge.

They do not ask
whether you are successful enough,
healed enough, confident enough,
certain enough.

They simply open.

Growing up,
libraries were not woven
into the fabric of my childhood.
There were school libraries, yes.
Later, the British Council in Mumbai.
The American Centre.
Places that felt almost magical then.

But it was in Singapore
that libraries became part of my life.
Public libraries tucked into malls,
neighbourhoods and quiet corners of the city.
Cool air.
Soft footsteps.
The familiar scent of paper and possibility.

I visited them often.
Sometimes for books.
Sometimes for escape.
Sometimes because the world outside
felt too loud.

There is comfort
in being surrounded by stories.

Comfort in knowing
that somewhere on a shelf,
another person once felt
exactly what you are feeling now.

And bookstores carry
their own kind of romance.

Grand libraries awaken awe,
their towering shelves reminding us
how small one lifetime really is.

Tiny independent bookstores
feel like acts of faith.
Proof that people still believe
stories matter.

And secondhand bookstores…
those may be the saddest
and most beautiful of all.

A folded corner.
A handwritten name.
A forgotten receipt tucked between pages.

Evidence that a stranger
once held this exact book
in their hands
years before you did.

Two readers connected
without ever meeting.

Perhaps that is why
people like us love libraries so much.

Not because we are lonely, necessarily.
But because libraries understand
the quiet ways humans search for refuge.

Some people find peace in crowds.
Others find it in prayer.
Some in music.

And some of us find it
standing between shelves,
holding a borrowed book,
while the rest of the world
waits patiently outside.

2026 Week 40 Update

And suddenly, it is October. The year has slipped quietly into its final quarter, bringing with it that familiar feeling that there is still plenty of time left, while simultaneously wondering how there can possibly be only three months remaining. Perhaps appropriately, this week felt like a mixture of looking backwards, looking ahead, and learning to live somewhere in between.

Professionally, I spent time thinking about what has been built, what still needs strengthening, and what should be handed over so that someone else can continue without having to reconstruct the entire story. At the same time, new possibilities kept appearing. Conversations led to connections, connections hinted at opportunities, and something that had previously seemed distant suddenly became worth exploring more seriously. Sometimes the most valuable result of showing up isn’t what happens in the room, but who we happen to meet there.

There was also the end-of-month ritual of looking at numbers and being reminded that long-term thinking is considerably easier in theory than when short-term results aren’t behaving themselves. Patience, apparently, needs regular practice too. And then came a reminder that not everything can be planned, measured or solved immediately. Some questions simply need time before answers arrive. For now, all I can do is take the sensible next steps without borrowing trouble from a future that hasn’t happened yet.

Maybe that’s a fitting lesson as I enter the final quarter of the year. October doesn’t need to begin with a frantic list of everything still unfinished. There are three months left, yes, but they don’t have to become a race until December. Some things will be completed. Some will carry forward. Some may change entirely. For now, I can keep moving, one ordinary day at a time, and allow the rest of the year to unfold.

Today’s quote, often attributed to George Addair, generally described as an American real-estate developer and motivational speaker, suggests that fear often stands between us and the experiences, opportunities and changes we most desire. Fear is not always a warning that we are making the wrong choice. Sometimes it appears precisely because something matters to us. Starting something new, changing direction, speaking up, pursuing an ambition or allowing ourselves to be vulnerable all involve uncertainty. We cannot know exactly what will happen, and our instinct may be to remain with what feels familiar, even when familiar is no longer what we want.

The quote doesn’t mean that everything we desire will magically appear once we conquer fear. Nor does courage require us to become fearless. Courage is often much quieter than that. It is recognising the fear, listening to what it may be telling us, and then deciding whether we want to move forward anyway. There is also an important distinction between fear and genuine danger. Some fears protect us and deserve our attention. But many others are built around imagined failure, rejection, embarrassment or uncertainty. When these fears repeatedly determine our choices, they can gradually make our lives smaller.

Perhaps the “other side of fear” isn’t necessarily where everything we have ever wanted is waiting. It may simply be where possibility begins. We may succeed, fail, change direction or discover that what we thought we wanted wasn’t right for us after all. But unless we move through the fear, we may never find out.

This week, in verse 6.17, the Bhagavad Gita rarely advocates extremes. Krishna repeatedly points toward balance. This verse reminds us that spiritual growth is not separate from how we eat, rest, work and care for ourselves. Many problems arise not from lack of effort but from imbalance. We push too hard, rest too little, worry too much and neglect what sustains us. Wisdom often looks less dramatic than we imagine. It is found in small daily choices repeated consistently over time.

This week, I learned that at first, it may feel like difficult circumstances are breaking you down or pulling you away from what’s meant for you. In reality, they are pushing you to grow into the version that can actually hold what’s coming. When the timing is right, your gifts will meet the most aligned version of you. Some things need space to become what they’re meant to be. What once felt overwhelming will return to you in a way that better suits who you are. Let patience guide you during these uncertain moments.

Take care, stay positive and let’s finish the last quarter of the year with a bang!

In My Hands Today…

The CIA Book Club: The Secret Mission to Win the Cold War with Forbidden Literature – Charlie English

From copies of Orwell to Agatha Christie, the Western effort was to undermine the censorship of the Soviet bloc, offer different visions of thought and culture to the people, and build relationships with real readers in the East.

Historian Charlie English follows the characters of the era, with Bucharest-born George Minden at the narrative’s heart.

Tasked with masterminding the effort, Minden understood both sides of the he was opposed to the intellectual straightjacket created by the communist system, but he also resented the Americans’ patronising tone – the people weren’t fooled by what their puppet governments were saying, but they did need culture, diversity of thought, entertainment, art, reassurance and solidarity.

This is how the perilous mission to bring books as beacons of hope played out, told in riveting detail.

Sacred Stones, Spaces, and Stories: Divya Desams Part 26

Thirukkaragam Temple, Kanchipuram, Tamil Nadu
Within the sacred landscape of Kanchipuram, where several Divya Desams exist close to one another, Thirukkaragam holds a quieter presence. The presiding deity here is Karunakara Perumal, and the goddess is Padmamani Thayar. Today, the shrine is located within the Ulagalantha Perumal temple complex, which also houses a few other Divya Desams. Despite its modest scale, Thirukkaragam carries a clear identity shaped by its name and its meaning. The word Karagam is often associated with compassion and grace, and the name Karunakara Perumal itself reinforces this idea. Here, Vishnu is worshipped as the Lord of compassion, one who responds gently to the world’s struggles.

The mythology connected with Thirukkaragam reflects this theme of compassion. According to traditional accounts, sages once prayed here seeking relief from the difficulties that troubled their lives. The world around them had become uncertain, and their austerities alone did not seem enough to restore balance. Vishnu appeared before them in a form that radiated calm and kindness rather than overwhelming power. The message of the appearance was simple. Divine grace does not always arrive through dramatic intervention. Sometimes it arrives quietly, through compassion that steadies those who seek it. Because the Lord revealed himself in this merciful form, he came to be known here as Karunakara Perumal.

Historically, Thirukkaragam has been part of the long religious continuity of Kanchipuram, a city that flourished under the Pallavas and later the Cholas as a major centre of temple culture. Over time, several shrines were incorporated within larger temple complexes, creating layered sacred spaces where multiple stories could exist side by side. Thirukkaragam became one such shrine within the Ulagalantha Perumal temple. Even though the sanctum is smaller compared to the main shrine in the complex, its identity remained preserved through the hymns of the Alvars and the steady practice of worship.

Architecturally, the shrine reflects this modest character. The sanctum of Karunakara Perumal is simple and direct, without elaborate ornamentation. The idol stands in a composed posture holding the conch and discus, embodying the familiar Vaishnavite iconography. Yet the expression of the deity carries a softness that aligns with the temple’s theme. Padmamani Thayar’s presence nearby adds warmth to the space, reinforcing the idea that compassion and grace move together. Within the larger temple complex, the shrine may appear small, but the atmosphere it creates is noticeably calm.

The daily rituals here follow the Vaishnavite tradition and take place within the schedule of the Ulagalantha Perumal temple. Priests perform the regular prayers, offerings and evening aradhanai, ensuring that the shrine remains part of the living rhythm of temple worship. During major festivals celebrated in the complex, devotees often visit the smaller Divya Desam shrines one after another, acknowledging each form of the Lord in turn. Thirukkaragam, therefore, becomes a quiet stop along a larger spiritual path, inviting devotees to pause briefly and reflect.

For pilgrims visiting Kanchipuram, the experience of Thirukkaragam often unfolds gradually. Many arrive primarily to worship Ulagalantha Perumal and then discover the smaller Divya Desam shrines within the same complex. When they step into the sanctum of Karunakara Perumal, the shift in atmosphere becomes noticeable. The space feels more intimate, almost personal. Devotees often stand quietly for a few moments, offering prayers for patience, understanding or emotional strength.

Culturally, Thirukkaragam continues to live through the verses of the Alvars, who recognised the presence of the compassionate Lord here. Their hymns reflect a devotional tradition that values kindness and grace as much as strength. In Tamil spiritual thought, compassion is not seen as weakness but as a form of divine power that sustains the world. The shrine therefore becomes a reminder that the Lord’s greatest quality may not always be his cosmic acts but his willingness to respond with mercy.

In modern times, the shrine remains active within the temple complex, receiving pilgrims who follow the Divya Desam circuit through Kanchipuram. Renovations and maintenance of the larger temple have helped preserve the smaller sanctums as well, ensuring that their stories remain accessible to visitors. Though it may not draw the same attention as the towering image of Ulagalantha Perumal, Thirukkaragam quietly continues its role within the sacred landscape.

Thirukkaragam ultimately represents the quiet strength of compassion. Karunakara Perumal stands as the Lord who responds not with overwhelming power but with grace that steadies the heart. In the wider Divya Desam journey, this temple offers a gentle reminder that divine presence is not always expressed through dramatic miracles. Sometimes it appears through kindness that restores balance, one moment at a time.

Thirukkarvaanam Temple, Kanchipuram, Tamil Nadu
Within the sacred geography of Kanchipuram, where several Divya Desams lie close to one another, and many shrines share the same temple complexes, Thirukkarvaanam holds a quiet but meaningful place. The presiding deity here is Kalvar Perumal, and the goddess is Kamalavalli Thayar. Like a few other Divya Desams in the town, this shrine today exists within the Ulagalantha Perumal temple complex, which houses multiple sacred sanctums associated with the Divya Prabandham. The name Thirukkarvaanam carries poetic meaning. The word kaar refers to dark rain clouds, and vaanam refers to the sky. Together, they evoke the image of a deep rain-bearing cloud stretching across the heavens. In Tamil devotional imagination, Vishnu is often compared to such clouds: dark, vast and life-giving.

The legend connected with this shrine reflects that imagery. According to traditional belief, the Lord appeared here in a form that resembled the dark monsoon clouds that nourish the earth. Just as rain clouds gather quietly before releasing life-giving water, Vishnu revealed himself here as a presence that sustains the world without seeking attention. The comparison is both visual and symbolic. The dark complexion of the deity resembles the rain cloud, while the idea of divine grace resembles rain itself — falling gently, nourishing everything without discrimination. In this way, the temple speaks about abundance and quiet generosity rather than dramatic acts of power.

Another layer of interpretation appears in the name Kalvar Perumal. In Tamil devotional literature, the word kalvan sometimes refers playfully to a divine thief, one who steals the hearts of devotees. The Lord here is believed to quietly capture the devotion of those who stand before him. The symbolism fits naturally with the rain-cloud imagery. Just as clouds gather unnoticed before the rain begins, divine grace often arrives silently, entering the heart before one fully realises it.

Historically, Thirukkarvaanam shares the long timeline of Kanchipuram’s temple culture. The region flourished during the Pallava period, when Kanchipuram was known as a centre of religion, philosophy and artistic patronage. Later Chola rulers strengthened temples throughout the city and ensured that rituals continued through royal endowments. Over time, some smaller shrines became incorporated into larger temple complexes, allowing several sacred sites to exist within the same architectural space. Thirukkarvaanam eventually became one of the Divya Desam shrines located within the Ulagalantha Perumal temple complex, preserving its identity even within a larger setting.

Architecturally, the shrine reflects its modest scale. The sanctum is small compared with the towering form of Ulagalantha Perumal nearby, yet the presence of Kalvar Perumal remains distinct. The deity stands in a composed posture, holding the conch and discus, embodying the familiar Vaishnavite form of Vishnu. The image carries a quiet dignity rather than dramatic ornamentation. Kamalavalli Thayar’s shrine adds warmth to the space, balancing the calm strength of the Lord with compassion and grace. Within the larger temple complex, the shrine feels like a pause, a moment where the atmosphere becomes softer and more reflective.

Daily worship at Thirukkarvaanam follows the Vaishnavite ritual tradition and takes place within the schedule of the Ulagalantha Perumal temple. Priests perform the regular prayers, offerings and evening aradhanai as part of the temple’s ongoing rhythm. During major festivals such as Vaikunta Ekadasi, when the temple complex becomes especially active, devotees move from one shrine to another, offering prayers at each Divya Desam sanctum. In that journey, Thirukkarvaanam becomes a quiet stop that invites a moment of calm.

For pilgrims visiting Kanchipuram’s Divya Desams, the experience of Thirukkarvaanam often unfolds naturally while exploring the Ulagalantha Perumal temple. After seeing the towering image of Trivikrama, visitors step into the smaller sanctums that surround it. When they enter the shrine of Kalvar Perumal, the shift in scale and atmosphere becomes noticeable. The quiet image of the Lord standing like a rain cloud offers a different kind of reflection. Devotees often pause here, offering simple prayers for peace, stability and well-being.

Culturally, Thirukkarvaanam holds its place through the hymns of the Alvars, who praised the Lord in this form and recognised the shrine as one of the sacred Divya Desams. Their verses highlight the imagery of the dark cloud and the gentle grace that nourishes life. In Tamil devotional tradition, the rain cloud is not merely a natural phenomenon but a metaphor for divine compassion. Just as rain falls on every field without preference, grace reaches every devotee without distinction.

In modern times, the shrine continues to function quietly within the temple complex, receiving pilgrims who follow the Divya Desam circuit across Kanchipuram. Renovations and maintenance of the larger temple have helped preserve the smaller sanctums as well, ensuring that their stories remain part of the living tradition. Though it may not draw the same attention as the towering Trivikrama image, Thirukkarvaanam continues to hold its place in the spiritual map of the city.

Thirukkarvaanam ultimately represents the quiet generosity of divine grace. Kalvar Perumal stands like a rain cloud in the sky: steady, dark and full of promise. In the larger journey through the Divya Desams, this temple reminds devotees that nourishment often arrives quietly. Like rain that falls without noise, grace enters life gently, sustaining the world one drop at a time.