My mother and the Queen

This is a story of similarities and differences.  My mother was born in 1926, the same year as Queen Elizabeth II. If my mother had lived longer than her 49 years I wonder what she would have been doing this year, the year that Queen Elizabeth celebrates her Diamond Jubilee of her reign.

These two people were born in the same year but many miles apart in different countries. Even when my mother migrated to England in the late 1950s their lives were already starkly different, despite the fact that they had been born just 3 months apart. At the time of travelling my mother, Doris Morgan, was already mother to my elder siblings – there were six small people who looked at this woman (the original DM) as the queen of their world. The other three of us would be born within five years. We would join our other brothers and sister in lifelong adoration of this magnificent woman.

Whilst my mother was settling into her position of mother and wife in the harsh English countryside, the Queen was settling into her first decade as the reigning monarch of the country and Commonwealth. The Queen was then mother to two children. They were raised differently to my family. Although mummy knew lots about the Queen, I’m almost certain that the Queen knew nothing about my mum. That doesn’t matter right now because the people who relied on mummy knew enough about her to feel safe in her protection. In a way we became like citizens of the kingdom of Doris Morgan: we were safe in her care. Her reach of benevolence did not end when her life ended, it has continued to this very day. Mummy’s love deserves celebrating and although she will never celebrate any diamond anniversary herself I am holding my own remembrance celebration for her this year.

I admire the Queen because she has stayed in the same ‘job’ for 60 years – that takes commitment to duty. My mother was so committed to her duty as a parent that she extended her roles to include working three jobs at the same time, raising her children – almost single-handed – and looking after a house and husband that was not always the most gentle man in the world. Despite these pressures Mummy still had desire to shepherd us all in the right and narrow way. She taught us to love each other despite our differences, she taught us to follow our dreams and be independent, and she taught us that it’s wonderful to tend roses when the rest of the garden is purely functional: you see, the roses showed me that it’s necessary to have spots of beauty in your life that bring you pleasure. I still do this and I will continue to make and enjoy these moments as long as I can. Additionally Mummy showed me that when times are hard you can make a way through it if you are focussed enough on your dream. This is a legacy I will remember, forever.

As I think of the days when I hugged my mother on return from school and wondered why she was wearing an anorak in the house, and why it crunched, I will remember that she smiled as she told me that wearing layers of newspaper under your clothes helped to keep you warm and it was a good thing to do. I don’t think the Queen ever had to do that. Mummy made even the seemingly bad things into a positive learning experience: that took courage and insight.

They say ‘necessity is the mother of invention’, my mother – out of necessity – made my young life simple and happy. She didn’t have to do that, but that is the enduring legacy that I carry with me today as I celebrate the year the queen of my life was born and the diamond legacy she has left for me all these years later.

I will always remember that there is a hierarchy to everything – even life. 

Commonwealth Day Celebrations

What Commonwealth? What Celebrations?

Well, this event seems to have gone mostly unnoticed. However, the Queen celebrated it by attending a Commonwealth Day Observance Ceremony at Westminster Abbey. There were also several members of the Commonwealth nations in attendance: Hugh Masekela, a South Africa musician, performed at this particular gathering of global peoples.

This moveable feast, is celebrated annually on the second Monday in March, and this year the theme was Connecting Cultures. The service in Westminster Abbey was to ‘explore the golden threads that tie together people from every continent, faith and ethnicity.’ This was achieved through a mix of world music, dance and personal testimonies to around 1,000 selected heads of states, official dignitaries, faith leaders and school children.

In the past there were national exhibitions and parties to celebrate this connection within Commonwealth countries, now there is a whisper in the British media to mark its occurrence. I wonder if the origins and links of the Commonwealth have, at last, become an embarrassment to the British monarchy and nation.

The Commonwealth (aka the colonial British Commonwealth) was first set up in 1949 with eight member countries. As of today, 12^th March 2012 - Commonwealth Day, there were 54countries that were members of the Commonwealth. It is now referred to as the modern Commonwealth because it is now an association of free and equal member from independent countries who are linked by shared values, goals and equal votes in all matters.

Queen Elizabeth II, marking 60 years as head of theCommonwealth, said: “This year, our Commonwealth focus seeks to explore how we can share and strengthen the bond of Commonwealth citizenship we already enjoy by using our cultural connections to help bring us even closer together, as family and friends across the globe."

My question is, ‘What does the Commonwealth mean to you?’ To me it does not mean anything sweet or pleasant. The bitterness of colonialism still resonates in daily life – especially in the failure to give a rounded historical account of the colonial times in British schools. This leads to ‘unconscious bias’appearing in the everyday life of people whose only real experience of African, Caribbean or Indian life comes from the Eurocentric education or the occasional story of forced economic migration heard from a grand-parent.

I don’t think that the Commonwealth ever had any respectability, I would further suggest that it has now lost all veneer of respectability. This muted celebration confirms my views.

R.I.P. Commonwealth of Nations. The wealth of nations is anything but common.

Leap Day Resolutions

All over the British Isles people have been taking part in Leap Day activities and making Leap Day resolutions. Well, that’s what they’ve said on some news programmes that I’ve been listening to this month.

This got me wondering about what times of leaps I would be prepared to take this special day. Tradition has it that women can be the one to propose on this day and if rejected they must be provided with twelve pairs of gloves (so that they can hide their ring less hands all the year around). This, and other traditions have made me smile as I have thought about what I can and will do with this extra day of the month.

I already wear gloves, but not to hide the lack of any rings, more to ward of the bitter winds and cold. So I rejected that idea that would make me the recipient of a dozen pairs of gloves (and my proposal has already been accepted, so it was not necessary on this particular day anyway).

A friend of mine indicated that he was waiting for my proposal to him, but he did send the message from his fortified bunker in the middle of nowhere so I knew that he was not really open to any approach from me. Nevertheless, we can continue to live in hope. Isn’t that right P?

Anyway, back to reality. The radio programmes were encouraging people to take advantage of the extra day in February and use it as an excuse to do something they had never done before. And many did. One woman, who was blind, enjoyed her first tandembike ride; a man, who suffers from panic attacks, depression and agoraphobia, travelled on a bus to a local town for the first time in four years. Another man told his colleagues that he is gay and has been with his partner for nearly 20 years. At several schools the children, teachers and support staff leapt to different classrooms for lessons and undertook each others’ roles for an hour.

There have been so many leaps.

But, here’s a gift for you, you don’t have to wait for another 4 years to make your own leap – you can do it now! But you knew that, didn’t you?

It’ll be great to share what extraordinary leaps you’ve taken. Feel free to let me know about your daily or yearly leaps and I’ll keep telling you about mine: it’s only fair.

In the Ark

Many people are familiar with the story of Noah’s Ark – even those who have no religious inclination know this tale.

I had reason to reconsider what it was like inside the ark when I was away from familiar surroundings earlier this week. I was not scared because of any end of the world prophecy neither was I about to be covered in a deluge of water – although it had been raining earlier that day. No, rather than that, I was thinking of the amount of love and joy that was in that structure. There was a feeling of connection, purpose and shared future right there. It weaved itself between smiles, hugs and handshakes. Everyone was joined together by an invisible but strong thread of love. I was sat inside a pub (an unusual location for me on any given day, especially a Monday afternoon), nevertheless I was aware of the way I was feeling whilst there.

Inside that pub, remote from my home, I felt more at peace and comfortable – no doubt, like the original inhabitants of the ark – than I do when I attend my weekly church service. That fact disturbed me, merely because of the alienation from peace that accompanies me in the company of people who profess to be Christians but often show habits that would not be out of place in an SS meeting.

The family and friends gathered in that pub were mostly strangers to me, yet they were genuinely warm and welcoming to me. I felt at home. I felt safe in the pub that became my ark for the afternoon.

I will continue to find safety in the mobile ark that I am constructing – according to God’s plans for my life, and I hope that I will someday replicate that feeling of safety that I experienced in the pub in more places that I frequent, especially my weekly church attendance.

Home Bird

I am a home bird that loves to travel. An enigma? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been referred to in that way.

My home environment gives me peace and happiness, therefore I’m bound to enjoy it. I also love to travel – both locally within the country and globally. There are a few things that can get me to travel, well, the truth of it is there are a few people that can get me to travel to see them without a second thought. I love to spend time with them, where they are, or to have them with me.

I remember travelling thousands of miles on my own – without telling anyone else (apart from the person I was going to be with) until I boarded the plane - just because of love. It’s easy to do.

For years I have stayed close to home, making my nest. Then there was the fluttering of my heart followed by the fluttering of my wings and the inevitable flights away from the nest. It’s easy to do.

When you want something enough, you make a way. You figure it out. You have to.

We always move towards that which interests us. Our actions and hesitations are evidence of our desires.

“Movement illustrates the intentions and the interest of the person who is moving.”

Édouard Lock (Founder of La La La Human Steps – Canada)

Fashionable me?

I am not a follower of fashion. I have never wondered why because I know that I like what I like, not just what is currently popular with the masses. I have never been a sheep.

When you really think about it anything fashionable is designed to pass away quickly. That is the nature of fashion. One moment it is the ‘must have’, the next it is the ‘has been’. This fact made me wonder why people are so obsessed with something that is so transitory.

My interest in people and things is not a fashion trend. I am in it for the duration.

This means that even when others have lost interest and moved on to the next big thing, I’ll still be there – sticking to what suits me, not being sucked into the current fad of the moment. I will retain friendships that seem unfashionable because a friendship goes beyond fashion. A friendship is real and durable through changing 

fancies or prevailing moods.

I am real and if that means I am seen as unfashionable, then so be it.

Amen.

Big People

When I was a child I remember my parents used to go into the sacred ‘front room’ and close the door when we had certain visitors. Well, I mean when they had visitors. Their friends and relatives would be shown into the best room and we, as children would be left outside.

If we dared to venture in to the room while they were talking we would be shooed out again especially if we dared to speak. It paid to be like the embossed flowery wallpaper – obviously there, but after a while unnoticed.

h

When we spoke it was like being at a tennis match, all heads turned to us and a chorus of dissent reached our ears. This was sometime accompanied by a slap if the interruption was way out of place.

The words that were slapped into our bare legs were invariably some variation of, “Big people are talking!”

As we retreated to the dining room or garden I think we children wondered how the ‘big people’ always got their own way and got to make all the decisions.

It came to me the other day that all those people are now gone or going. A friend was talking about the death of her father’s best friend. I recently attended the funeral of another friend’s father, there is death all around and it has sadly become an intimate associate in recent times. All the ‘big people’ I knew have gone or are currently going.

It hurts. It really hurts.

The most recent departure of a loved one has made me realise that we are the big people now. We have to support and comfort each other as we journey on. We have to make the decisions.

It does hurt, but we will make it through. Together.

Connections

Some connections are impossible to break. At least that’s what I feel.

A friend of mine gave me an example of this when we were talking the other day. We all hope our relationships will last forever, but sometimes cracks begin to show that cause you to think. It may just be that she is a mother of several children that she says this, but I think it runs deeper than that.

I was hugging her good bye and she repeated her usual comment to me about her family. “We are all one,” she said, “you are my family. I am here because of you. I love you and my children love you.”

I smiled a warm smile back at her as we parted.

We had been talking about so many things – as good conversations do and one of the topics was her relationship with her partner. I said he was a lovely man and she smiled and said, “Yes, he is, but that’s only the side he likes to show to people. Behind the scenes it’s different.”

I was shocked. She could see the disbelief on my face. “But, “ I stammered, “but ...”

“He is a good man,” she said, “and I love him but ...”

I waited for her to finish the sentence. I didn’t have any words that would fit into that heavy space that was now between us.

She smiled then, hugging me again she said, “We all have to be happy. In here.” She pointed to her heart. I nodded and murmured my agreement. I knew there was something else she wanted to say, so I hesitated from going towards the door. Taking a step closer to me, she said, almost casually, “I can’t love one man and leave the care of my children. He can go at any time. They remain forever.  They are mine.”

Deep connections remain deep.

Forgive or be stoopid

Forgiveness is important.

We all want it when we have done something wrong. But, I have observed, that it is not so easy for some people to give forgiveness to others. This fact was brought home to me by my child.

We were talking about an incident where an accident had happened and someone we know was badly hurt. This, of course, made everyone sad.

“Whose fault was it?” asked M.

“It was an accident,” I replied, “but the person in charge of the event was a friend of Adam’s.”

“Are they still friends?” came the immediate inquiry.

I laughed. “Yes, they are.” Then I paused as I thought about when the accident had happened. 

“Interestingly,” I continued, “Now Adam’s family really can’t stand Zak and blame it all on him. While Zak and Adam have just got on with their friendship. I do think Adam was upset at first but he got over it quickly because it was, after all, an accident.”

“Why don’t the others get over it as well then?”

“Well, they can’t forgive Zak for hurting Adam you see.”

“Why?”

“Because they love Adam and Zak was the cause of all his injuries.”

“But he didn’t do it on purpose, did he?”

“No. It was an accident.”

“I think they’re stupid.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s not nice not to forgive people. If Adam had caused the accident then they’d be on bended knee asking Zak’s family for forgiveness for him, wouldn’t they?”

“I guess so.”

“Well then, if they don’t forgive Zak for what he did then they’re just as bad as if they caused the accident themselves. They’re just causing more pain. They’re stoopid.”

I just nodded.

Then M added, after more thought, “Just because you forgive doesn’t mean you have to forget, does it?”

“No, of course not. It just means you don’t have any negative feelings or anger associated with the thoughts. You have to leave the bitterness behind and move on. You know, learning from the situation, but not letting it continue to hurt you. When you don’t forgive, I mean when you keep the anger inside you, it’s like tasting the most horrible thing and keeping it in your mouth instead of letting it go. You have to spit bitterness out, you know.”

“Are they really still angry with Adam’s friend even when he’s not?”

“I hope not, but I don’t know.”

“I think that’s really stoopid.”

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.

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.

AWOL

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.

Sorry.

I wish the virus was AWOL from my body now!

Waiting

In films you sometimes see the moment of impact before it happens. Everything seems to go in slow motion. 

The knife glints, the bullet flashes and time freezes.

There seem to be moments like that in real life as well. When you are just waiting for something terrible and inevitable to become a fact ... of the present, and then – all too soon, of the past.

What I’ve found is that sometimes you have to wait for things that you don't want to happen. I always found it difficult to manage those moments. While thinking about my journey and others’ current journeys I wondered ‘how are you supposed to manage those moments?' I still don’t have any answers to give; all I have is my deepest love for those who are waiting in pain-lined days.

Like the scene in the film the first pain is expected and semi-prepared for. However, it’s the repeated aftershocks that also cause so much distress.

No one ever feels the same as anyone else when this happens. Each pain is unique. All I can offer is my love and friendship. You alone know how you feel in each moment and when you can reach out for ... anything. So I wanted you to know I am here for you if or when you need me. You remain in my heart, always.

Much love,

M.

It’s heavy ...

Sometimes the heaviest things that I have ever carried are my thoughts.

I sometimes wonder what I should do with these weighty opinions that press down on me. When someone asks me to share them, I wonder if I really should.

Can I risk lightening my load? (It sounds silly when put like that, after all, who wouldn’t want to take pressure off themselves?)

Then I remember the phrase, “Follow your instincts, you’ll be fine!” and I do, and I am.

It’s so much lighter now.

Broken spirit

There are days when even Hercules would suffer under the physical and emotional strain of life. Despite all that you are currently bearing, you continue to exude a whisper of strength.  Inside I guess you are in pieces but because of your outside look people forget you are vulnerable, tender and fragile too.

I know that what you’re going through is the hardest journey, sometimes it can be easy to forget who you are on this road – the real you becomes invisible to the naked eye.

It gives you every reason to doubt people, but you should always hold on to the truth that you are well loved ... by someone – always.

I love you.

I see you. All of you.

Know now that you are not forgotten. I’ll never forget you.

Part of my story

It’s the truth that you are part of my story and I am part of yours.

Our life stories have intertwined and become one ... at least for a while. I am happy to share this part of my journey with you. I hope that you, too, will be happy to have me as part of your life story.

11/11/11 - Remember

11/11/11 - Remember

Man’s desire collides

between

life and duty,

mind explosions, fire!

Silence.

Upright backs

forever straight

under earth’s

pressure.

No peace found.

Bravery flows red.

Love and hatred

unite in the sod ...

forever.

© Marjorie H Morgan 2011 

Underneath it all

Do you ever look under the surface of things?

Sometimes it’s way too scary to even contemplate looking underneath things because you’re afraid of what you will find and how it will affect you. An example would be not looking too closely to the tables and seats in a restaurant otherwise you’d be unable to continue your meal there.

We are used to accepting certain standards and just living with them. (Is that actually lowering our own standards? Hmmm. Do we always have a choice in that?)

What I have found is that if you look under the surface, if you look closely enough, you’ll always find a whole different array of issues than you first thought were there.

The only question is ... do you have the time or the inclination to look under the surface? 

Wrong number?

What do you do when someone rings you but it is obvious that they didn’t mean to ring you?

This was my conundrum the other day. The phone rang and there was a familiar voice at the end. The only problem was that I wasn't who they were really looking for.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hello.” Came the timid reply. There was recognition but obviously not what they were expecting. “Um...” there was continued hesitation.

“Hi, D,” I said helpfully, “This is Marjorie,”

There was a pause.

“Hi, how are you?” I said, “How’s the family? Did J tell you that we popped around the other day?” I had started the conversation in the hope that she realised that I didn’t mind her calling me, even when she didn’t mean to.

“I was home when you called by, but I must have been in bed. J didn’t tell me.”

“Never mind,” I said, drawing the conversation to a close. “Maybe we’ll catch up another time.”

As a final note I said, “You really need to sort out your phone book you know, D.” I said with a laugh. “I know you didn’t mean to ring me. But it’s OK, because it’s nice talking to you anyway.”

“Yes, Marj,” she said sheepishly. “I know.”

Sensing she really needed to make her original intended call, I said with a laugh, “Take care. I’ll catch you another time... maybe when you really mean to call me.”

She echoed my laughter rather weakly and also said goodbye.

With that the conversation ended and I put the phone down.

I know what I felt like when she went; I don’t know what she felt like ... again. You see, she keeps calling me and then saying, “Oh, Marj! It wasn’t you I meant to call. Sorry!”

At times like that, it is difficult to know what to do, whether to talk politely for a few seconds or to just say, 

“No worries. Bye.” And put the receiver back down.

Wrong number. Wrong person. Uncomfortable times.

Sometimes when we contact people we get the wrong number and a bad connection, too. 

Third party sadness

We all have our own pain. And sometimes we know we have too much of it. But there is a whole different type of pain that also causes deep grief. This is third party pain.

I have realised that you really hurt when people you care about are hurt or hurting. As much as you want to you cannot take their pain away. What I have found is that you can let them know that you care, deeply.

I have sent hugs and prayers to people who I cannot be with in person right now. They have always been eternally dear to me and, at this moment, they are too closely acquainted with that heart destroying pain.

Their first degree sadness is raw and debilitating.

My meagre offering to them right now is somewhere to rest and express that pain because I really care about what they feel.