thoughts in the mornings

Sunshine makes the difference

The rain had finally stopped and it felt as if Saturday might bring something new. She wasn't sure why she felt the quiet optimism she had woken with but rather than analyse and interrogate herself about it, the woman decided to simply enjoy the feeling. It had been a rewarding week in the end. The mouse was likely gone after all the holes had been stuffed and filled with wire wool and the cupboards had been stripped and cleaned to new levels.

Although she had initially been appalled at the implications of having a mouse in the house on her own sense of domestic attainment, the woman was now pleased that she had been pushed to an early spring clean. This morning, with the sun finally showing an appearance, the kitchen had looked sparkly and clear and as she looked out at the garden, she was pleased.

She was pleased that the two young gardeners had come and cleared so much of the winter debris away. They had cut back the long over grown shrubs and cut the grass and dug new flower beds and though the woman struggled with just how much was cut back, she knew it would all grow again and this was part of the joy of having a garden.

It was more than a source of joy though. The garden had actually been a life saver and although it had changed many times over the years, it remained a place of peace and tranquillity in the heart of a busy city. Whenever life had been particularly tough, the garden was where she went. When first diagnosed with MS, unable to do very much but cry and wonder what had happened and would happen, the garden had held her safely. She would lay on the bench they had bought many years before and she would look up at the sky for hours, wondering how she was going to deal with a disease that would disable her.

Now, 20 years after that first dreadful year of sickness and confusion, the garden still held its same magic and though she was unlikely to ever lift a sledgehammer and lay a patio again, the woman could feel that there was strength in her that needed to be used. Perhaps now that the big jobs had been done, she might spend the day doing the smaller things. A bit of sweeping, perhaps deadhead the hydrangea that was still holding last year's heads whilst new shoots were trying to come through. An analogy of our times she thought. Dead heads being replaced by new shoots.

Our times. She sighed. Who ever knew we would live through such times. It was hard to comprehend and imagine the implications of all that was going on in the world. The wars, the politics, the divisions. It was taking its toll on the population and the woman could feel it when she spoke to friends. Her friends crossed the social divides and were a mixed bunch. Some lived on the edges of state support, others had their own small businesses and others yet were high flyers on top incomes mixing with the movers and shakers. All of them were juggling and struggling in one way or another and it was this that was likely to be the challenge for the future for people.

How to live our lives with meaning, compassion and purpose when all are in different places and spaces? She returned to her original idea of yesteryear. If everyone focused on their own stuff and consciously grew their own sense of health and happiness whilst contributing to a collective sense of love and laughter, the chances are, we would have something better than what is currently being offered. She smiled as she so often did when she thought about her wild and radical plan. Get the world to grow its hahalala, one person at a time, and surely there would be magic. Starting on an island of sick, depressed, impoverished people being ruled by a heartless, corrupt elite was surely as good a place as any to start.

Yep. Mad as a box of frogs. She had been called it many times, didn't really know why a box of frogs was the comparison to madness and didn't really mind. Madness, sadness, badness, gladness. It was all part of the same human condition she figured. May as well embrace it. The sun was inviting her to go out to play and as it wasn't yet 8 o clock on a Saturday morning, it seemed a very good invitation to accept. She'd make her own hahalala and take the day from there. It was a good look.