Madge Mahoney's Morning Musings

Some thoughts first in the mornings

Monday Morning in November

It was the first Monday of the penultimate month of the year. Already November. How did it happen? Madge often wondered about time and its pace and speed. Was it because she was older that time seemed to fly past so quickly? Somehow when we are young, there is always so much time that it can almost feel boring if every moment isn't filled with something 'to do.' She recalled as a child that she was often bored. Looking back, it was good to be bored. It allowed for rest. It encouraged creativity. Madge wasn't sure that there was space to be bored nowawadays. There was always something to look at online. Always something to cause outrage, shock or horrify. Most recently, it was all about prepping.

The idea of a nation being prepared for war by having three days of food supplies struck Madge as being ridiculous. Firstly, there was little cohesion in the nation after a decade of squabbling about Brexit with a dose of COVID aloing the way. Truly, the nation felt volatile with its balaclava clad 'patriots' and its strange politicians vying for attention from an electorate that was sick, tired and increasingly open to being blatantly racist. Amongst it all were apparently one million young people who were NEETS.

NEETS almost sounded sweet. Young NEETS. Suggesting youthfull sweetness that was tidy and contained. Except it wasn't neat and tidy. It was Not in Employment, Education or Training. One million young people not really doing anything in life. Surely that itself was the loudest alarm.

Somehow though, there was a bigger alarm. The nation had to be war ready in 1000 days apparently. By having three days of food and a wind up radio. If it wasn't all so serious, it would be laughable. As well as everything else to argue about, there was now division about whether to prep and buy wind up radios and extra pasta. The issue for Madge was one of probability. Was anything likely to really happen to prevent people being able to go about their lives? Would there be a cyber attack? Had all the crops failed? Was the Straight of Hormuz open again? Many questions. Who really had any answers? It was beginning to play on people's minds.

Madge's own mind had been in a state of some calm and some degree of shutdown. If she didn't look too closely, it all felt manageable. If she spent too much time talking to people, it started to feel like it might all get tricky. People's views were being shaped by what they read and saw online. All of it being boosted by the algorhytms of hate because conflict creates cash. Which was presumably why the psychos in charge were so rich.

Conversations were getting harder because everything seemed controversial. Madge wondered if the internet had been worth all the issues it created. It didn't mean things were true but without very careful consideration, it would be easy to believe that everyone was hideous and that the world was going to hell in a handbasket. It probably wasn't though. It was maybe easier to control people when they are scared.

Madge didn't like feeling cynical. It didn't feel conducive to a peaceful life and it made her own chosen mindset seem somehow frivolous. A focus on hahalala when the world is burning and world war is looming? Wasn't it somehow ridiculous? She supposed it was somehow ridiculous because how could one culitivate positivity and be present when there was so much awfulness going on? In the past week alone, she been with two people who were struggling mentally and in the danger zone of suicide ideation. Another friend had lost his temper in his efforts to understand what was going on and elsewhere, young ones were struggling to hold it all together. It didn't seem the time for the adults to go to pieces.

Madge looked at the day outside. It looked to be a bright, sunny day. Maybe some rain overnight but dry now. The leaves had all fallen from the cherry tree but it held a few buds for tenancious blue tits to have a go at. The searing heat of the summer was long gone and there was a coolness in the air that was almost visible. Was that true? Could a day look cool without feeling it? Madge wasn't sure but she wasn't sure about much at the moment so that was ok. It was the current way of being. Unsure. She preferred the space for curiosity rather than the absolute certainty of believing lies. It was a complex time. Yet there was also a degree of simplcity needed. We had to remember who we really are.

Madge remembered that she was a woman with a heart full of love who was well versed in loving others. She had many people in her life who had shaped who she was and she was grateful for them. She wished that life was as simple as it was 7 years ago when she had a wonderful tea party for her 50th. That seemed so long ago now. Everyone had changed and been shaped what had happened since the pandemic. Some were no longer here.

Next weekend would be Rememberance Sunday and as the world teetered on the edge of more war, Madge considered the day and the week ahead. No one seemed able to stop the madness and it left people feeling powerless. All she could offer to the world was who she really was and give her thanks for the people who made up her life. What else could be done?

She couldn't deny her worries and concerns but she could decide not to focus on them. Instead, she would get up and out into the world in the hope of having hahalalamoments that matter. She might even pick up her favourite old coat that was being mended and given a new lease of life by the ancient tailor who sat in the dry cleaners, always in a three piece suit, mending the clothes of the locals. Madge had been taking her raggedy clothes to him for repair and restoration for nearly 30 years and was always met with 'hello young lady.' It was a comfort to see him there. He was a wizard with his needles and he had saved many favourite garments.

Hoping her friends were all ok, riding the waves and finding respite where they could, Madge wished her friends a gentle Monday. Perhaps there would be magical moments. It was important to have hope. Cosmic hugs and wishes for a hahalala day. Big love. xx

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

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, he made sure to call her and get her round to visit. He was a tall man with a huge laugh and a loud voice and he could fill a room in a moment. He was full of love and laughter and mischief and the family all loved him dearly. It was shocking that he was gone.

The shock continued that summer because uncle Mike’s brother, Don also died. He had travelled from Australia to Canada for his brother’s funeral and had suddenly collapsed and, just like that, he was also gone. Madge had been in Ireland when she got the second call. It was as devastating as the first. Possibly more so because the idea that both the brothers were gone was so shocking. In a world of shocks and sorrows, their sudden departures were still being felt. Funerals on zoom had meant there had been no sense of actual coming together at the end of a life and this was, Madge felt, one of the saddest aspects of the new world order. The continued separation, even after death reminds us to live.

Madge thought about her widowed aunties, navigating a world without the men they had known and loved for more than fifty years. Uncle Mike had been the loud, funny guy who was the life and soul of the party. A proud grandad and huge Spurs fan. Uncle Don was quieter, a more sensitive soul who wore big rings and had jet black hair. He loved music and he adored his wife. They had four sons but Madge did not know them well because they had moved from London to Australia many decades ago. Yet, they were family and they shared blood and they had all loved the huge man who seemed to have been there forever and now wasn’t. Neither of them were here anymore and Madge could feel the space they had left. In truth, she’d never thought of them dying, but she could feel it.

She could feel it because of course, her own widowhood had given her an insight into the abyss that is left when giants fall. The huge love, the huge loss, the huge battle to regrow and continue after they’ve gone. We’re like forests really thought Madge. Trees fall and for a while, there is silence as the shock reverberates. Then life, slowly, slowly, begins to grow again. It happens almost without us realising.

Shoots of hope, moments of relief, the fading of the scars. Nothing is ever quite the same again and the rest of life is a new way of being. Without the giants, we can feel very small thought Madge. At least, that had been her experience. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose someone after fifty, sixty, even 70 years as some people had. There was no way of measuring love and loss of course. Yet there was something about the sheer scale of time together that must be so monumental when it is over. She was grateful for the 20 years she’d had with her own giant. She couldn’t imagine how she would have managed loss after half a century together.

Now of course it was the present day. This day in August, two years after the two giants had fallen. The wider world was feeling a bit wild. The inner world was perhaps quieter for the people who had loved the two magnificent men and Madge knew that her aunts, strong as they were, would be feeling the loss for always. It’s the whole human experience thought Madge. Be born, be raised, be loved, find love, create a life of love, die, leave behind a legacy of love and repeat. It sounded a bit straightforward and of course, it isn’t and yet, in its simplest form, it is. Life is love and this was how Madge was raised. Her nan had raised her uncles and their loss and the love they left behind was testimony to that commitment. A life committed to loving.

With a deep gratitude that she had been loved by men who knew love, Madge thought about whether she wanted broth yet. Some days, it was just a little early. Perhaps more decaff and some hahalala wishes. Cosmic hugs and big love. xx

It had been a lovely weekend at home, hanging out with her beloved and their lovely friend who had come to stay for a couple of days. The three women got on extraordinarily well and they had found it easy to relax, eat, chat, unwind and catch up with lives that were always busy. It had felt like a mini summer holiday with a trip to the theatre, meals out in the sunshine and a general feeling of friendship and freedom. Just lovely.

The play was in the West End and Madge had been happy to sit in the back of her new car and be driven about on a Saturday night. It was another of the wonderful things about her beloved. She was great with maps, directions, driving and keeping her cool. She organised trips, sorted out parking and held Madge’s hand as they made their way through the crowds. It was good to be able to relax and not do it all oneself and Madge was always grateful for the gentle woman at her side.

The play was the second part of a trilogy called The Death of England. A monologue. The first had been a white working class man talking about his life and the death of his father and the England he had known. The second was the perspective of his best friend, a black man growing up alongside him in that same England. Both pieces were powerful and packed in a great deal that was still taking time to digest. Racism of course was key.

In light of the very modern racist riots that had been taking place over the weekend, Madge was sitting with the discomfort of the conned, diseased mindset of the modern world. When they had seen the first part of the trilogy a few years back, the world of violent racism had seemed a thing of the past, even though life did seem to be more aggressive. Now, post covid and all the political chicanery, it had become very very real. It was hideous on every level and Madge had been so appalled by the setting fire of a hotel, as she assumed most people would be, that she was almost despairing. Almost.

For Madge, it was the idea that a person could get up in the morning and think to themselves, “I know, I’m going to go out and do some good hating today. I’m going to take my child perhaps and show him how to throw things at people who look different.” It was mindblowing to Madge. There were things that people got caught up in and there were deliberate intentions to hate and harm. The Reformation of the nation didn’t look good.

What bothered Madge, amongst the many bothering about the whole situation was what the long term impact would be on lives and on community relationships. Teenage boys getting caught up in the excitement of a riot were easily directed to mayhem in Madge’s experience. They have no concept of consequence at that age and she thought about the lad she had seen in the papers who had looted a Greggs and was pictured carrying a way a tray of sausage rolls. He could well end up in prison for years because of that and it struck Madge as being such an appalling waste. So many lives would be ruined because they decided to riot and this was what felt really quite sinister.

The media and the language of the past decade had done so much to create such divisions. Giving a platform to a millionaire ‘man of the people’ to spout his rhetoric and sow seeds of derision and division had led the nation to even greater confusion. Who really represented the poor and the vulnerable in a Neo liberal world where all that mattered was profit? no one seemed to know and that was perhaps the danger. Handing over personal agency to corporations for consumption. It was a lot. They had taken a lot.

It had also been a lot to consider the complexities of the recent boxing match and subsequent controversy. Madge had, like so many, been very sure of her opinions the moment she had seen the headlines. It had been a salutary lesson in assumptions and integrity. It was no less complex because although the winner had certainly been shown to have been born and lived as a woman, there was nonetheless the physical advantage of having higher levels of certain hormones. Jeez, thought Madge. It’s a good thing to remain open to the wider picture. It doesn’t make it less complex though.

It was now Monday morning and Madge hadn’t yet seen whether there had been more riots or whether anyone had worked out an agreed definition of what a woman is. Would anyone ever agree she wondered? With a shrug of resignation, acknowledging that these were issues beyond her comprehension, Madge considered the day ahead. More tea, a couple of calls, a lift to the station and an afternoon to decide who to visit. It was as good a plan as any for easing into the week and with an eye on the kettle, Madge sent out cosmic hugs and hahalala wishes. It was grim times but cool heads and open hearts would see us through she thought. Big love. xx

It was already clear that it was going to be a hot day. A scorcher as it was sometimes called in the sensational red tops. “Whew wot a scorcher” she recalled seeing years ago. It was always the same, rather stupid point being made by the daily rags and Madge had woken with gratitude for the sun and apprehension about the heat. Stupid was a tough way to describe things or even people and it wasn’t especially helpful but it was nonetheless there, in Madge’s mind. The sheer stupidity of humankind.

Well that’s not very hahalala is it she thought to herself and it was true, there’s not much happiness in feeling that the world is full of stupidity but there was no denying it. She was contemplating whether she would look at the news after she had emptied her head a little. She thought probably best not and yet, that itself seemed as if she were turning away in fear. The day before had been horrific for the families who had been attacked by a madman. A mad boy by all accounts because apparently he was only 17. There could be no ignoring what had happened and in light of the weekend’s events and calls for uniting the kingdom, things were not looking good for the public mood about the people on boats.

What Madge was wondering about, amongst all of the other wonderings, was what people thought constituted a ‘mental health’ aspect to such behaviour. It seemed evident from initial reports that some people were disparaging of the term ‘mental health’ being ascribed to the alleged attacker and there were of course calls for the usual responses. “Lock ‘em up and throw away the key.” “Deportation for all of them now” “Bring back hanging.” All hideous in a hideous situation. Yet Madge wanted to understand more than the immediate reactions. Surely, all these incidents and horrors were signs of a society that was mentally unwell? A collective sickness that was being expressed in hatred and violence. It was too much to comprehend really but she could feel the tension.

She took a moment. A sigh. There really did seem to be a worsening in behaviours, in responses, in the reporting of such things. Perhaps that was part of the problem. People had become so immersed in the news, they had begun to believe it all and act and live within those beliefs. It had been shocking to see the adoration being directed at a man who had changed his name, lives in another country and yet, is able to stir and lead enough people to cause deep concern amongst those of us with brown skin. Bizarre.

For balance, Madge knew she would have to spend less time looking out and more time looking in. Meditation allowed for a deep settling of the senses and Madge was pleased to have restarted her twice daily transcendental meditation that she had learned some 13 years previously. It was the discipline of practice that she found most challenging but it had helped her to be less reactive, less inclined to be irritable. In these times, with such blatant exploitation of people’s fears taking place, a balanced. settled centre certainly made life easier.

She thought again about the families whose lives had been destroyed the day before. There could be no words. Only the clarity that we simply never know what lies ahead and in any moment, all of life could be changed forever. This in itself was pretty terrifying thought Madge and it was why, after all the years of change and turbulence in her own life, she had needed to find a way to settle her nerves. Only meditation truly did that.

Of course, there was no amount of anything that would get those families through their nightmare and Madge imagined that the whole country was feeling the awfulness. Whatever the wider labels, the bottom line was that it was male violence, yet again, that had ended female lives and this was the true modern day epidemic. There had to be a way forward but Madge felt it really was now time for the men to step up and into the space that women need them to be in. A place of protection from the madness and badness of other men. It was heavy duty thinking on a Tuesday morning when the sun was due to hit 30 degrees but Madge was feeling a need for honesty. Men had much to answer for.

Having got some of the bothering off her chest, Madge resolved to have a gentle day putting together some writing and using A.I. to see if she could create an ebook. She had faith that people could be better versions of themselves but she only had herself to work on so that’s what she would do. Best to look first at oneself before having too much to say about others eh? With the mixed thoughts of a messy land, Madge wished her friends a harmonious day filled with cosmic hugs and big love. The broth was calling and she needed the strength. Hahalala xx

It was the first Monday of the school holidays and although she was no longer connected with schools, Madge was still aware of the rhythm. The traffic would be quieter for a few weeks, there would be more children in the market hall and hopefully there would be a general air of school’s out. There was a definite semblance of sun predicted for the next few days and after a sunny weekend that had meant a bit of tidying in the garden, Madge was feeling that it might be a good summer. Or at least, a good day. Important not to go too far ahead.

She was also feeling perturbed by the weekend’s events in London. She’d made the decision to follow what was going on with the Unite the Kingdom gathering in central London. On the face of things, it looked like reasonable people who wanted ‘their country back’ and Madge was prepared to hear what was really being said. From the bits she followed, she was alarmed. Thousands of people marching and shouting about another group of people and what they could do with their own religion was, quite frankly, alarming and Madge was concerned that the voices were being ignored at our peril.

Who did she mean by ‘our’? Well, she meant everyone really because the rise in hatred and extremism could not be kept separate from its impact on the wider world. Madge had watched people being asked why they were following a person who had such strong views about who should be allowed to be in the country and what struck her most was the sense of being failed by politicians and feeling like no one else was listening. Dangerous.

She hadn’t intended to wake up and write about dangerous mindsets but she had been so bothered by just how easily some people would be influenced because they themselves felt voiceless. It was nothing new of course and perhaps there were people in her own social group who would think that these were reasonable views. She hoped not.

It felt to Madge that in the face of such challenges and divisions, it was going to be more important than ever to strengthen one’s mind and open one’s heart. Blanket hatred was going to get us nowhere and she found herself wanting to speak to the people that she didn’t know to find out if they really were that full of hatred and anger. She wasn’t sure what she would actually say but she was becoming increasingly clear in herself that these were the spiritual challenges of our times. To not believe the hatred and to not be cowed in fear. Hmm, you don’t sound very summery Madge she thought to herself. Time to change it up and think of other things.

There were many good things to think about amongst the grimness and a sunny start was one of them. She’d already been out into the garden, scowled at a cat that was looking threateningly at a bird, picked a couple of slugs off a plant and thought about whether to put a white wash on. It looked to be a good washing day. She had a brand new car to play out in and this was like having fresh legs. Her own legs were doing quite well, she had a couple of errands to do and no need to make dinner because the weekend’s leftovers would make a good Monday meal. There was something satisfying about old fashioned housewifery. Madge thought she was quite good at it after all these years at home.

Madge hadn’t expected to enjoy such simplicities when she was younger. Domestics always seemed dull and there were always more exciting things to imagine were taking place. It had contributed to what was now called FOMO…fear of missing out… and this was something Madge had certainly felt when she was growing up. It’s an odd thing isn’t it she thought. To be so fixed on what you might be missing that you miss what you are actually doing. You miss being present when you think you want to be somewhere else.

These days, perhaps because she had to concentrate on each step in order not to fall over, she was far more present than she’d ever been. Aware of what was around her, aware of her thoughts. Aware of when those thoughts began to spin and needed to be brought back to what matters. It mattered to Madge that she understood people and why they were the way they were. Not the smoothest of sentences but she figured friends would know what she meant.

A weekend of being with real people and reading about people she’d never met didn’t do anything to separate her thoughts but rather, got her to thinking about just how much all of us had been manipulated by media, politics and global corporations. Madge refused to write people off as idiots and she was glad of this but she also had to admit that some people had her baffled. Perhaps that would be the focus of her day. Sitting in the silence of the sunshine and hoping that somehow, sense would prevail. Would she watch any of the olympics? She thought not. Nothing had compared to the sense of optimism and pride she had felt in the UK in 2012 and so she’d look for other places to focus her energy.

The sun was definitely out, the kids were off school and her own beloved would soon be finished for the summer. There was a trip to Norfolk to look forward to, a friend coming for the weekend and myriad mini adventures lined up in the new, big black car. Perturbations aside, it was the hahalala mindset that would override all else and with that sense of relief that she was back in writing mode, Madge sent out cosmic hugs and heaps of love to her beautiful friends. Have a lovely day. Hahalala. xx

Enter your email to subscribe to updates.