Chaos Theory…

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what's getting my attention

I’ve been on a blog sabbatical this past week or so….

Didn’t feel much like procrastinating nor pondering the light-hearted, which is unlike me. My normal modus operandi is to find humour in all corners, whether that’s the gallows humour variety, or the side splitting laugh-til-it-hurts one.

But recent events have got to me.  Increasingly it feels like we’re steam-rolling towards chaos and there’s no-one around to put the breaks on.  The Brexit referendum here in the UK, the outcome of which will mean everything for the rest of our life times, let alone to those of our children.  Then, around the rest of the world, the terror and the fear and the unrest.  I’ll be honest, I’ve felt a genuine weightiness and sadness which has taken its toll.

In short, it has all made me go to ground.  Metaphorically pulling the duvet over my head each morning wondering what will be next?  The news in the UK last night, of the brutal, horrendous murder of Jo Cox MP felt like another sledge-hammer blow to democracy, sense, and rightness.

All is not well with the world. Not well at all.  the juxtaposition of the cheers and jubilation of the England fans only an hour before the breaking news about Jo Cox, a rising star of politics, at only 41 years old.  A mum. A wife.  By all accounts,  bloody intelligent and compassionate.  I feel genuinely heavy-hearted for the loss of someone I’ve never had the privilege to meet.

It feels like we’re at the beginning of the end of something.  And that I’m really not sure where it will go.

The chaos theory is described as “Complex systems, whose behaviour is highly sensitive to slight changes in conditions, so that small alterations can give rise to strikingly great consequences”

Or more commonly, the butterfly effect.

It certainly feels like globally, we’re in the eye of the storm, and that we’ll continue to fall headlong into further chaos for some time with each profound flutter of a butterfly’s wings somewhere.

Ultimately there is little I can do to affect much of it.  I will use my vote, and encourage everyone to use theirs next Thursday. We will live with the outcome and that’s democracy, which regardless of my own beliefs and politics, I hold dear.

I will continue as a mother, to try to make sure I raise the kids to be morally and ethically great human beings by the time they reach adulthood.  And I’ll do my absolute best to keep them safe.

I think that part of that safety includes giving them a childhood full of happiness and laughter and positivity, before they have to deal with this grown-up stuff.  So, it’s time for me to pull my socks up, look to the lightness in life again and find joy in the ridiculous, beautiful and absurd, as I have always done.  So…I’ll be back soon, with more frivolity and joie de vivre and no doubt, some tongue in cheek utter nonsense.

In the meantime though, I will be thinking of Jo Cox MP, and the 49 victims of the Orlando atrocity often. As well as the far too many other victims of terror and fear the world over.


  1. Emily says

    Well said. This genuinely gave me goose bumps to read too, echoing a lot of my own thoughts. Glad to have you back. x


  2. Angela Morris says

    Well put Helen, I feel exactly the same – leaden hearted – have you see the Poem Good Bones by Maggie Smith that has gone viral? – the struggle to love this world as it is:

    Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

    Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

    in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

    a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

    I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least

    fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

    estimate, though I keep this from my children.

    For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

    For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

    sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

    is at least half terrible, and for every kind

    stranger, there is one who would break you,

    though I keep this from my children. I am trying

    to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

    walking you through a real shithole, chirps on

    about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

    right? You could make this place beautiful.


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