These are my musings and observations on my daily life, loves and the laughter that are all a part of my experience of living now in the shires of England.

Tuesday, 31 January 2012

End of month questions

What are you fulfilled by doing? (Do it more.)

Who are you happiest with? (Be with them often.)

Do you have an insatiable appetite for life? (Get somewhere where you do.)

What are you hungry for? (Options vary with individuals ... love, peace, greatness.)

What are you doing about achieving it?

What disappoints you? (How can you avoid it in future?)

Who is important to you? (Do they know? How can you show and tell them?)

How to you get to be better than you thought you could be? (Remember and repeat.)

Do you expect more of yourself? (If not, why not?)

Do you work to 100% of your ability? (What is gained from holding back?)

As this is traditionally a month for making resolutions I thought it was a good time to check the progress of the New Year and new improved you. How is it going?

I’m through with making resolutions instead I make daily revolutions of change in my life. Join me.

Monday, 30 January 2012

Word for the day

Is it possible to find a single word to describe yourself today? A word that best sums up what you feel about yourself right now?

I was thinking to myself ‘What one word describes you today?’

Mine is: enthusiastic.

What’s yours?

Sunday, 29 January 2012

Observation on life ...

When blindfolded it is usually impossible to see clearly. If we remain blinded once the actual blindfold of circumstance has been removed from our lives then I can’t understand why it is still impossible to see clearly. I have taken into account that time is needed to adjust tot the different levels of light and information that is being received into our brains but after that period surely our vision should be fine, don’t you think?

What I have discovered to be true is that things that appear solidly bound together have an strange capacity to break apart at a quick pace when a devastating event impacts the structure. This could be a house, a family or a heart.

Sometimes these destructive forces have been hovering nearby for a great amount of time, other times they arrive in our lives like tornadoes. No matter how much we hold onto the structure we will not be able to hold it together. The cracks appear and the foundation crumbles.

What I wonder is why can’t we see the potential for destruction when we are wrapped up in the warmth of the present. Do we choose to wear the blindfold against the future or are they really only blinkers that have us focused on the reality in front of us?

If we knew there was danger ahead maybe we would build better foundations now for the things we want to keep in our lives. Wait, that sounds like a good idea! Now, where did I put that cement of love, kindness, caring, sharing and friendship? Ah, there it is ...

I’m off to firm up my foundations.

Saturday, 28 January 2012

Is it time to change my timeline?

I like words. I guess that’s why I play Scrabble and other word games. But I like words more than for gaming purposes. I like words because they identify feelings, emotions and concepts in more different ways than I am able to be emotionally fluent in.

The Bible is full of words and I like reading it and understanding the concepts behind the stories and the messages held in those 66 books. I also really enjoy the works of Shakespeare, Milton, Blake and several more modern writers. The words seem to caress my soul with their beauty.

Often I feel I don’t have enough time to enjoy the wonder of books but I do manage to read something each and every day, and for that I feel blessed. I plan to make more time to read ... however, when I think about ‘making time’ I am drawn to the concept of what time is. I questioned ‘what are the ancient meanings of time’?

We are all familiar with chronos time: this is chronological or sequential time and many of us just watch as our individual life clocks go from one end to the other and eventually fades away. Then, that’s it, our life is over and we’ve stayed on the single track all the time. We’ve satisfactorily followed the timeline we’ve been given.

Less familiar is kairos time: this is an indeterminate time when something special happens. Some people have been known to say that kairos time is specially appointed time linked to the purpose of God. I then wondered what God would want for me and the answer always seemed to come back to happiness and fulfilment in one form or another.

I wonder if today it is time to alter you timeline and follow the special purpose of God in your own life; is it time to deviate from following the chronological path that so many people take but do not enjoy?

When I recently heard the words “it’s time” I knew that these words were like releasing the chains that held me because I was immediately freed from the past and I am now living in love right now. Part of my life purpose is to be free, happy, fulfilled and loved. I’m glad I heard the words and decided to jump tracks into my time!

Is it time to change your timeline?

Thursday, 26 January 2012

Creeping imagination

Have you ever had that feeling that something you dislike has touched you without you knowing? I mean, for example, a spider is crawling on your arm. Then you do those jerky movements that look like a parent’s bad dance at a wedding. You know those times, don’t you?

I just did.

The recent high winds and the neighbours cats have caused severe damage to one of the fence panels in my garden (well, this one more than the rest) and it looked like the Costa Concordia as it listed away from the other upright panels. Other neighbours, houses away from mine, have stopped me in the street and mentioned that they saw it falling over it, so I knew it was time to remove it.

Hatted and gloved against the weather I went forth into the garden.

The rotting wood fell easily away from the attached posts. I thought then this was going to be easier than I had imagined and wondered why I had delayed removing this eyesore for so long. As I leant forwards to lift some of the broken pieces of wood I felt something touch my back.

It was a light touch, and it instantly unnerved me because I was wearing several layers of clothing.

I dropped the broken panels to the ground and jumped backwards. That’s when the dancing started. My arms were making strange geometrical shapes with my body as I struggled to release the foreign object from near my skin. I could feel it moving down my back. It was all I could do not to scream out.

As I jerked frantically I felt something move lower down my back I flung off the gardening gloves and reached for it. With disgust I threw a small dark object to the ground. It was a spider! I knew it was, wasn’t it? I peered at the ground but the pebbles disguised it, but I was right, wasn’t I? I felt my skin crawl as I continued to fan my clothing away from my body to let any other creepy crawlies loose.

What I did next surprised me.

I shook my clothes one more time then retrieved the gloves and continued to clear the broken wood away from the edges of the garden. Once they were in a neat pile I walked swiftly to the kitchen door.
Then, it started again; that creepy feeling that something unbidden was touching me. This time I didn’t feel anything new I saw a spider (yes, a real one) on the doorstep. I flicked it off, back into the garden, and as I touched it it curled up into a ball. That was it! I was convinced that what had touched me earlier was really a spider. I lost all reserve and flew through the door.

I ascended the steps rather quickly and in moments I was in the bathroom and stripping off my clothes. As I did so I shook each item – away from me – to see what was in there. I checked my back in the mirror and, thankfully, nothing was there. As I turned my clothing back inside out something fell to the floor. I jumped back convinced it was a spider. It lay there in a dark ball, not moving.

I didn’t want to move first but I had to move before it did, so I backed up, all the time keeping my eyes on that spot, and reached for some toilet tissue. As I approached it again I tried to identify it. Was it really just a dried up berry or was it a disguised spider. With my exposed skin tightening in fear I enclosed the ball with the tissue. It did not move. I gingerly picked it up and found out that it was a berry.

Now, that should have calmed all my fears, yet it didn’t.

I was still using my hand to brush invisible spiders from my back. My imagination had created a colony of them crawling all over me and the evidence of the berry as it lay in the tissue did not convince me that there hadn’t already been at least one of them crawling on me.

You know those times, don’t you?

You don’t?

Oh, it’s just me then ...

Monday, 23 January 2012

Chocks and Blocks

In WWII the British pilots used to have problems with the planes rolling away when the engine was running so they put wedge-shaped blocks by the wheels to keep them still until the crew were ready for take-off. This led to the phrase from the cockpit of, “Chocks away!” And the ground crew would remove the blocks so there was a free run for the plane.

I think that sometimes we are like the British Air Force in our personal lives because we often place our own chocks and blocks on our runway to happiness to prevent ourselves from moving forward.

Some personal blocks may be in the form of past pain – but my advice is not to let the past inhibit you from starting something new. As with the WWII planes, they are much more effective when they are doing the task they were designed for.

Like eagles, we are better when we soar.

It’s time for all the chocks and blocks to be moved away.   

Sunday, 22 January 2012

Timing Love

Do you think that you can plan love? Apparently it is big business. People have websites, seminars and books on how to plan love.

I’ve always thought love happens in its own time. Maybe I’ve been wrong all these years and what I really needed was to book into one of those seminars, but that doesn’t matter now. I’ve found the right love for me, at just the right time.

We didn’t plan it, because love can’t tell time. It just is. Beautiful.

Saturday, 21 January 2012

On Whose Authority?

I think Christianity has some excellent points. I also think many of them get lost behind the religiosity of many organisations.

This recent Sabbath I was sitting in church between Sabbath School and Divine Service and the room was unusually quiet. This is a time when people spent their moments in reflective thoughts or prayer or join in rousing hymns of praise together: neither seemed to be occurring this week.

As a fellow member walked past, I asked him if he would lead the singing. He is both a vocalist and an instrument player. He declined, saying, “I’m just a visitor, I need to be asked.” I laughed and said, “Well I’m asking you.”

His response shocked me. “You have no authority here,” was his immediate retort, “you can’t ask me.” 

Now, I know that he is an official member at the other local church and my church membership is held in a different county but it made me wonder how much praise was regulated by officialdom.

“I get my authority from God,” was my instant reply.

This drew laughter from him but he still did not feel able to go against the forms and customs of the local congregation and so went back to his seat with a smile.

Does God have to wait for the deacons, elders and pastors to regulate His praise before it can commence?

I was left wondering on whose authority Christianity was being regulated. It appears God is not front and centre any more.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

How’s your memory?

We want to be remembered.

Sometimes the events that we consider as magical do not even feature in the other person’s memory at all (at least they never talk about it in our presence, so we believe it has been forgotten): this makes us vulnerable.

These acts of forgetfulness can cause us some of the deepest pain we’ll ever know.

We are all fragile beings.

Remember that.

(Then forgive them for seemingly forgetting ... it heals you.)

Tuesday, 17 January 2012


“That was traumatic!” The phrase just rolls off the tongue after seemingly difficult situations. But I’m sure many in the medical and psychological fields of expertise would not use the word so blithely.

The word trauma originates in Greek (as I’m told all the best things do) and it means ‘wound’. This can of course be a physical or psychological wound ... amongst other things. An affair of the heart can be a trauma, as can a road traffic accident or an imbalanced mind. They all leave damage that is deep and can impair one’s future.

A question I came up with was ‘What if you purposely cause trauma to someone, what is the Greek for that?” And sure enough I found an answer. The verb for trauma can be traced back to the phrase “I injure” – I cause the wound. I cause the damage. This may be in the form of upsetting someone, offending some group of people, or damaging people.

Whether the wound is accidental, self-inflicted or forced upon an unwitting subject it all results in the same end: a wound. An injury that in some way mutilates the person.

I know I will be more careful about how I interact with people because I have seen too many people suffering from the result of careless words and actions. Some people die because of the trauma that others inflict on them, their wound never heals. This is beyond sad.

We have to care for ourselves ... and also others. The wounds of humanity are like a gash in the world’s soul. 

We need to heal it, one kind deed at a time.

Friday, 13 January 2012

Quit this ...

Here’s a question for you ... are you a quitter? Do you quit all the time or never? OK, it’s more than one question. Here’s another... Is there a right time to be a quitter?

I’ve been reluctant to quit things and ended up hoarding ... not just physical things but emotional things as well. (No matter where this thought process goes, I’m still not quitting my books!) Anyhow, I have discovered some things that I have to quit, some things that I have already quit and other things that I still don’t want to quit.

With these three piles of quitting I have decided that I now have to be like a magician and start moving things into the ‘I quit’ pile before I make it turn into a dove and disappear from my life.

It really is OK to quit things ... especially when they are damaging you.

My list includes: ... now that would be telling!

Thursday, 12 January 2012

In plain sight

I had to have blood taken today, but when the nurse called me I remained seated. Luckily she did not remember me, although I remembered her all too well from my Maroon Day last year when she was less than focused on the situation.

It is because of this that I specifically asked to see another nurse this morning.

I named the one I did not want to see, and the reasons why. The Dr laughed and said that he had to remain professional but he could see that there were possible reasons why many people didn’t want that particular nurse.

I was glad.

So when I turned up this morning I was pleased to book myself in with the correct nurse.

That’s when it all went wrong.

My nurse, a kindly and gentle woman, was being called on by this other nurse to help her with patients and then, for me, disaster struck. Nurse W (my selected practitioner) began to run late with her appointments. I was in the waiting room for nearly an hour before I first heard my name being called.

Instead of rising to my feet I looked downwards and ignored the call.

It’s a strange sensation hearing your name being called and totally ignoring it. I knew that it was me, and not some other Marjorie Morgan, that was being summoned, but it was Nurse X who was striding across the waiting room yelling out my name.

As I sat there, trying not to draw attention to myself, I noticed other patients looking around. I think I was more obvious than invisible because I realise now that I was the only one not looking around for this mysterious Marjorie Morgan: I knew where I was.

Nurse X went back to Nurse W and from down the corridor I could hear her saying, “The patient you asked me to see ... I’ve called her, but she’s not here. Have you already seen her? That’s strange. I’ll ask the other nurses.” From the one-sided conversation I knew they couldn’t understand where I was. Yet, I stayed still.

I hadn’t yet decided how I was going to announce my presence to the receptionist again, but I knew I was not going in to see Nurse X and so I sat and listened to the search for me.

“I’ll call her once more,” said Nurse X as she came back to the door of the waiting room.

“Marjorie Morgan!” she bellowed. Heads all seemed to turn towards me. No movement. I stared straight ahead. “Well,” Nurse X exclaimed, “that’s strange. I’ll just get the next patient. John Smith?”

As the door closed behind them both I got ready to get up and go to the desk. I knew the other patients would find this a strange situation but I didn’t care. However, I was saved from that move because at that moment Nurse W came to the door with the Dr laughing behind her, “Marjorie”, she said as she looked at me.

“Yes,” I replied as I walked towards her smiling face.

“The Dr just told me the story. Sorry for the wait. Could you just sit here while I finish with another patient?”
I sat outside her consulting room as she dealt with another of Nurse X’s patients and waited some more. I didn’t mind waiting. I just was determined not to see the giver of pain that day.

Nurse W said later that she would say I was in the toilet or something. I said I’d rather she didn’t lie for me, but I knew that it could be professionally sensitive for the other nurse (and the rest of the staff team) if she knew the real reason for my refusal to see her.

With numerous vials of blood drawn I walked back through the waiting room and met several glances of curiosity that were dying to know why I was in plain sight (and hearing) but refused to answer Nurse X’s call.

They may never know until they, like me and several other patients, experience the rough and unforgettable treatment at the hands of Nurse X.

I’ve never done that before. Been in plain sight and purposely hidden. It felt odd. But I was protecting myself, so that felt right.

Tuesday, 10 January 2012

I see ... screens

The morning school run is becoming an interesting exercise in dodging children on the pavements. Why is this? You may well wonder. Here is my assessment of this activity that has become like playing Mario Kart.

From the moment we step out of the front door we are faced with a series of ever changing tracks, we have to learn new manoeuvring tricks and each day there is a different way to play out the journey between the house and the bus stop.

From houses all over the neighbourhood children step onto the pavements that are transformed by the magical touches of their tired feet into a virtual track. As they each reach for their phones, games console or iPods the danger begins.

They are transfixed by the screen. The rules say that they are only allowed to look up at people or traffic for a maximum of 5 seconds at any one time. Too much time away from the screen results in penalties of ‘uncool’ being transferred to their loosely carried backpacks. If they obtain a certain number of ‘uncool’ points they will have to enter the school gates with their shoes completely laced up, their ties done up to the collar, trousers worn on the waist with an effective (not just decorative) belt, and the backpack carried across the back on both shoulders (something that is regarded as normal – to anyone over the age of 25) instead of the falling off the single arm style.

Talking, texting, game playing, music ... all activities are permissible as long as the head is bowed and no eye contact is maintained with any other street users. Absolutely NO looking at trees or anything resembling natural surroundings is permissible. These last categories carry the most severe penalties.

On rare occasions (in extreme weather) fingerless gloves may be worn until out of range of parental stares, otherwise they must be discarded with alacrity into the mayhem within the backpack as soon as possible.

Today I realised that being on a different track (the road – as I was driving) was potentially more hazardous because these screen-to-school players are apt to step into oncoming traffic without looking up because 
their 5 second glance tokens have all been used up within metres of their home while waiting for other players to arrive (friends?) – my observation is that when they walk and play in packs they are even more dangerous than in the single-player mode.

I really don’t like this daily game of life where all you see is ... screens.

Monday, 9 January 2012

Mummy memories

If my mother had lived she’d have been well into her 80s now, but she didn’t live very long. She died younger than I am now, she died when I was just beginning to get used to being a teenager.

I’ll always miss her.

I was too young to realise that I could have been soaking up every moments, memory and magical time with her. I was busy trying to figure myself out ... still doing that now as it happens!

Being so focused on myself and surviving in a big family of huge personalities I stole precious moments of quietness with my mother. I would creep out of the house after her early in the mornings as she went to work as a cleaner in some local offices. I should have been sleeping before the busy school day but I always seemed to wake up as I heard her getting ready to leave the house. I thought at first that she didn’t know I was following her but I have come to realise that she knew much more than I credited her with.

Children always seem to think they are wiser than their parents and I guess it’s now that I’m realising that wisdom is not best forced onto people. Lessons can be played out in one decade and learnt in another, that’s the way of parental wisdom. My mother was a sage and I know this now.

Today I am grateful for the many moments that I had with her. Those quiet times in the deserted offices as the sun came up were most special. I’d follow her around as she diligently went about her work and sometimes I’d help with emptying the bins or playing with the hoover, but mostly I’d just watch her and enjoy my private time with her.

I remember those moments as times when dreams were formed. As I swung in the swivel chairs in those huge offices I would imagine myself sitting at a desk and working: I achieved that dream.

Walking home with Mummy after she’d finished working I’d be chatting about the maps on the walls of the offices, the places I planned to visit, the big diaries on the desks that were filled with important dates and names and the busyness that would enter that quiet space once we had left.

Our moments of special bonding remain with me after all these years.

Mummy keeps teaching me valuable lessons from the past. I’ll always love her and I’m still learning from her.
Me and Mummy ... a long time ago.
© MHMorgan 2012

Friday, 6 January 2012

Emergency Services

What do firemen do when there isn’t a fire? They are generally thought to sit around doing nothing, and although I know that isn’t the case I still went through the thought process of ‘What’s the point of having firemen on call?’

Before you get up on all those high horses I do know the reason, really I do. And I appreciate it, a lot.

I just like to think, extrapolate and cogitate for the fun of it.       

I got to thinking ‘’What if ... there were no firemen, no ambulance crew, no doctors, no emergency services on standby – ever. What if ... we went back to the olden days when these were just secondary jobs in communities? Would we survive well?’

Risk assessment takes place in the work place, school, office and street every day and we have things in place ... just in case.

I mean, my car has air bags and reinforced doors just in case I am involved in another road traffic accident. 

They are there because someone asked ‘What if ...?’ I forget about them most of the time, however, I’m glad they are there.

I guess, it’s a bit like God. For me, I don’t always have a constant connection to Him, but I do regard Him as more than an Emergency Service, to me God is there for much more than ‘What if’s’ God is in my life because ... without this comfort and belief in more then I think I would be nervously asking ‘What if... ?’ most of the day!

Thursday, 5 January 2012

Rewriting history

This is something that only the colonial powers do, right?

I beg to differ.

I think we’ve all be guilty of rewriting history: ours and others.

By not mentioning someone and their part in our lives we are, in effect, writing them out of our history. But is that such a bad thing? I don’t think that it always is a bad thing. That person could have had such a negative effect on our lives that we choose to ignore them.

But does that make the affect they have actioned in our existence go away? I don’t think that it does.

Sometimes when I hear about particular people and how they are discussing their life story I do sit and wonder about the missing characters that I know were there. How do I know? Because I was once one of them and I have been erased from the retelling of their story.

This may make me sad, but they obviously have a good reason to do this.

Then I look in the mirror and I see the same thing happening in my life, so who am I in my glass house of mirrors to throw stones or talk about rewriting history?

Wednesday, 4 January 2012


It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to blog. Some of the reasons have been because I have not wanted to write what was on my mind but many of the other reasons – the main reasons - are because I just couldn’t. 

Whatever the cause for each day I have been missing from the blogsphere, I have, in effect, been AWOL.

(The missing blogs will be posted as I get back into the swing of things along with new ones that are being created at this very moment.)

Many thanks to those who have kept visiting my blogs while I’ve been AWOL and, just for you, I will keep the entries up to date as much as I can.

The main reason for the dearth of entries has been a virus.

After joining the world in a mass celebration of family and love nearly two weeks ago, I was struck down by a pesky bug that has refused to leave me. I know that I embrace most things, but this particular one I have started to abhor.

I don’t dislike many things, but I’m not holding back in my dislike of this.


I wish the virus was AWOL from my body now!

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

Reluctant couch potato

I am not a gym bunny but throughout the years I have sashayed between fat and fit (it’s true .... look at my pictures) but this recent enforced down time is no fun at all. I don’t want to watch TV, I couldn’t read, and I ached incessantly (not from any pleasurable activity ... that’s another story all together). Therefore I’m complaining about this time I have to spend sitting and lying about.

I don’t want to run anywhere either, but I’d like to walk around again without feeling like I need a stick to hold my jelly-like legs up (despite my best efforts I have jelly thighs legs for two reasons: lack of focussed exercise and this stupid bug!)

Years ago, when trying on some clothes in the changing room, a niece turned to me and said, in all innocence, 

“Aunt, I don’t know why you don’t like swimming. You could use your legs as floats!” My other sister fell about laughing but even that wasn’t enough to get me doing the necessary leg lifts.

So, here I sit (or lie) with my jelly thighs wishing I could walk without the fever moving my head around like I’m in a snow globe, or the wobble that has inhabited my frame attempting to push my body in different directions to the ones my mind wants to go. I feel as if I’ve got sea-legs without the journey anywhere.

All I can realistically do is to follow the Doctor’s instruction and sit still for hours each day.

I wonder how couch potatoes manage it all the time?

Maybe I just can’t hack it anymore because I have a sofa and not a couch. Just wondering ...

Monday, 2 January 2012

See like doctors?

I think children and doctors are similar in their outlook: everyone is more or less the same.

I came to this conclusion while helping a child with their reading. We were going through a book called ‘How your body works’ and the concepts were clearly laid out in those small and colourful pages.

Everybody is a unique and special person and should be treated well.

We all look different on the outside.

We all have most of the same things inside of us that work the same way.

This made me think ...

What if doctors were to decide how to treat a patient having a heart attack or stroke depending on their hairstyle, their skin colour, their sexual orientation or their mobility? Would that be a good way to provide health care? The treatment needs to take in specific individual needs but generally, it’s the same approach and care process for all, isn’t it?

Sunday, 1 January 2012

A Possible Prayer on New Year's Day - Poetry by Frances Bellerby

To the Light now invisible
Word now inaudible
Truth now unknowable

Pray for the appearance of shadows
Before this New Year’s Night.
For shadow trees on the cold null meadows,
Proof of the sun’s light.
And pray for each shadow to be delicate and precise
            as its tree.
Now and in memory.

Frances Bellerby (1899 -1975)
Taken from The Twelve Poems of Christmas, Volume Three, Selected and Introduced by Carol Ann Duffy

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...

Popular Posts