Madge Mahoney's Morning Musings

It had been a mixed week for Madge, with moments of delight mixed with moments of despair. Given the current state of events in the world, Madge thought it likely that this had been the case for many people. Not necessarily despair and delight but certainly a sense that things were in a state of change and one had to find peaceful moments amongst it all. The politics had become increasingly personal.

It had always been the case that being a brown face in a predominantly white land had left Madge feeling ever so slightly on the edges. It wasn’t a constant, daily thing but ever since childhood, faced with the casual racism of people using the dreaded P word and the N word and all the slights in between. Something to let a child know that there is a hierarchy and brown and black faces were at the bottom of it. Yet over the course of the 80s and 90s, this seemed to fade and a mixed, multi cultural land seemed something to be proud of. Madge had felt British and though she didn’t celebrate it, she hadn’t thought she would come to feel somewhat appalled by it. This week, she had.

It was alarming to Madge that the Prime minister had thought it was ok to call legal immigration a squalid chapter on British history. To be told that her relatives, her Nan coming from India in the 1950s was part of the ‘irreparable damage’ done to British society. In truth, Madge had felt sickened to her core by the latest attacks by the government on the people who deserved it least and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with how she felt. How dare he come for the old, the sick and now the ‘foreign.’ How dare he claim to represent people who didn’t feel like that at all? Was it any wonder that the real racists were delighted. The idiot had laid the ground for them.

It was surreal. To be living in a time of such knowledge and communication and yet to be ruled by stupidity that was based on personal ego and a sense of inflated importance. One Orange Man, one Idiot man and a whole nation of powerfully frightened men who seemed to be able to tell everyone else in the world what to do on pain of being called names and being accused of supporting baby killers. Truly sickening and this seemed to be what was taking place. People were being made sick by the world that we live in.

The rebellious aspect of Madge, a streak she had always had, refused to be sucked into the madness of men with nothing but weapons and rhetoric to hold up their egos. She wanted instead to keep chipping away at the idea that we are all doomed to be obedient to idiocy and hate. She insisted, even when she felt doubtful, that connection and community were the keys to being able to live a full and fulfilling life. It had to be.

The best parts of the week had shown themselves in the moments between the madnesses. She had joined a meeting at school about the youngest of the petites who had found the start of secondary school really rather challenging. The love and patience of his mum combined with the love and patience of his headteacher meant the boy was settling and finding his feet. Madge had been touched by the change in his demeanour as he sat and listened to what was lined up by way of support. As always, Madge was grateful for the decent man who had committed his life to the wellbeing of boys as they grew in to men. If only these were the men in charge thought Madge ruefully.

Another delight had been waking up to see a baby blue tit in the windlow ledge of the bedroom. At first, it looked to be a bit injured and Madge was immediately concerned that a wicked crow would come along and scoop it up. She really had gone off crows since she saw one with a dead pigeon in a chimney pot. As it was, she need not have worried. The tiny bird had simply been taking a moment to itself and flown off the moment Madge had attempted to open the window in anticipation of needing to undertake a bird rescue. She was glad to see it go.

Another delight was being taken out for an impromptu ice cream. It wasn’t something that she generally ate but there was a particularly lovely new parlour nearby and she and her beloved had enjoyed an ice cream, in a cone, in the sunshine. She’d chosen cherry cheesecake, just one scoop and been amazed at how good it tasted. Not overly sweet, just the right balance of fruits and cream with a biscuity crunch. Delicious. Not to be had too often of course but delightful for a one off celebration of a sunny day.

There had been many moments amongst the madness and as ever, Madge was glad that she lived a life that was made colourful by its mix. Friends, neighbours, kids and all the love that comes with each was truly what made the madness bearable. The background hum of her family’s grief was always there now but it was somehow less loud when there were lovely things taking place. We are all grieving thought Madge to herself. Anyone who doesn’t feel the sadness right now is probably just not feeling. Sometimes, numbness is necessary but it wasn’t a state of being that Madge could stay in.

Recognising the pain and strain and complexity of the times, Madge had decided that she had to keep on keeping on with what she believed to be the real truth of life. Only by willing to love and be loved, to share and to care and to not turn away but also not be obsessively looking, could she find her own inner peace and stay steady. She hoped friends were finding their own ways through, reminded them that the healing garden was always available to anyone in need of a moment and wished the world a gentle Sunday. We have only the moment we are in. Cosmic hugs and hahalala wishes. Have a lovely day.xx

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Waking up to high winds and weather warnings on a Saturday morning was a guaranteed way for a woman to have to rearrange any plans that had been made. Madge had loved the wind as a child but as an adult, she found it over rated. Could the wind be overated? Probably. She thought about the people along the West coast of the country and the possibility of 90mph winds that had necessitated a red alert message being sent to millions of homes. Madge wondered what one might do in that situation and concluded that the best thing would be to really stay in. Stay in and hope the rain stayed out. Would hope be enough in a land left to its own devices? It was clear that government had not served the people of Wales well. It was the fourth big storm of the year and it seemed, anecdotally at least, that it was all part of climate change. Everyone hoped for better. No one could agree on solutions.

It was the general disagreement amongst populations that had caught Madge’s eye over the past couple of days. It seemed that the world had now reached such a state of discord that literally everything and anything could be raised as a point of disagreement. Whether it was the big stuff or the little stuff, it all seemed up for argument. It concerned Madge, as it did most people she thought but there wasn’t much to be done except attend to one’s own reactions and responses. It was hard not to get dragged in.

Madge had always been easily influenced by others and opinions and opposition was a standard part of life and growing up. Now though, in these times of such extremes and with so little that felt believable because of the added ingredient of AI, it was more important than ever to be clear about one’s own self. Even as one explored whether there really was any separation. It was big deal stuff to consider but as the year was coming to its end, Madge wanted to be sure that she went within to find answers to questions that kept coming. In such an uncertain world, where was the certainty? It had to be within.

There were many things to consider when looking at the arc of one’s life. She was looking at relationships and friendships of the past, struck by the sometimes fleeting encounters that go on to shape our futures. A woman who had seen her in a cafe some 15 years ago was now a close friend who was a constant and reassuring presence in her life. A small child she had helped to raise was now a grown man with a life of his own, able to carry her shopping as he stood head and shoulders above her. A connection with another friend who had led her to the woman who was now her best friend and beloved. Connections.

These were the easier parts of sitting with one’s past but she had also been reflecting on some of the not so easy parts. The bits when we are young that possess us and lead us into situations we hadn’t imagined. She had been too sure that she was right when she was young and though this presented as confident assuredness, the reality was that she was often covering up her own insecurity. Too much apparent confidence can mean that we miss the nuances. The quiet people don’t get heard when the flash ones are going on.

It was the quiet ones that Madge was now interested in. The people who didn’t always need to be talking but who, when they did speak, added depth and flavour to the conversations. It was the small conversations around the table that now drew Madge rather than the big events and the attention of being the host or the speaker or the MC. Why had she ever wanted to be that person up front she wondered? Cos it was fun.

Fun. In itself an odd word and one that didn’t seem as easy to embrace since Covid. So much had changed over the past almost five years and Madge, like everyone, had somehow found a way through. Or not and that too was a huge influence on the fun factor. Could we really just move on from all the death and distress of the times and just keep going forward, looking for fun? Madge wasn’t sure that people could without some acknowledgment of what had been experienced but this of course was now up to each person to work out. Where are you? How are you? What do you need? How might I help? Are we connected?

It was a stormy morning already and Madge wondered whether it was the weather that was stirring so much in herself. She felt quite well, had enjoyed time with friends in the past week and had much to look forward to. All of this made it easy to be grateful. Yet, it wasn’t the same for everyone and this troubled her, even as she accepted that there wasn’t much to be done other than love people and let them know you were present. Was that enough Madge asked herself? It had to be. We have hearts, we have humility, we have connection. Everything else would fit within all of that.

Madge wished her friends a gentle weekend, hoped that each would find some serenity in the storms and with a quick look at the scraggly tree, devoid of birds who she assumed were sheltering elsewhere, Madge sent out Saturday’s cosmic hugs. Big love all round. Have a lovely weekend. xx

Madge had woken with thoughts of her uncles. Two brothers who had been a huge presence in her childhood and indeed, all through life. They were the sons of her nan’s older sister who herself had died before Madge was ten. Aunty Kathleen had been a glamorous, rebellious woman who was very beautiful and very distant. She wore lipstick and had a streak of grey hair that gave her a film star look. Madge didn’t remember her clearly but her own mother had adored the glamorous aunty and Madge could still recall her mother’s anguish at the death of her darling aunt. She had died not long after Madge’s grandfather and looking back, Madge wondered just how the adults had coped with so much loss. Yet of course, now she was an adult who had experienced losses of her own, she understood that coping was what people did. What people do. We cope with the worst of things because, quite simply, it’s a case of having to.

Madge thought back to the summer two years ago when she had received a call from her cousin to say their uncle Mike had died suddenly. He lived in Canada and Madge didn’t see him often but whenever he came back to the UK,