Sunday, November 11, 2012


I enter this blogging mire as a way to silence the complimentary, persuasive and concerned voices around me.  They who are the recipients of many of my rantings, musings and opinions have agreed that I have a blog in me that needs to get out.  I, on the other hand, am happy to remain in my own cocoon to emerge in the privacy of e-mails and the glare of Facebook.  A contrast, I agree, but both do not require a commitment for which I am less and less able to make on a daily basis.  And even now, I look above in the Compose window and see the options of Publish, Save, Preview and Close and see Close as the most attractive option.  But I will persist against the easy way out for I have an over active mind that fights sleep, a voice that wishes to be heard and a passion for truth and the creative.  And I have a need to speak about the sane potential of matter how often I am disappointed.

Warm and safe for now.  But what of its future?

And so my first post will be a direct emotional response to a picture I saw on Facebook today of a caged mother pig stretching her head out from under the bottom most bar of a small, hellish enclosure and stretching her flat nose toward her infant, as cute as any born to human, from which she is separated, her anguish palpable and painful. Never desiring to nurture a child of my own, I somehow empathize with this mother and think of the cruelty that has been visited on such an innocent creature.  And I wonder why it is that this mother in her yearning to be near her child and her fear for her child's safety is any less important and considered than if she were human.  And I wonder why we as a species can sit down to a breakfast plate of sizzling bacon and not wonder about its origins of human inflicted pain in our lust for self-indulgence. 

There will be more of this animal related anguish to come among a pot pourri of other topics.  It seems to me that if we can not remove ourselves from ourselves and see beyond our selfish need to satisfy our lust for self-satisfaction without awareness of its toll on others - human or animal - we are pathetically doomed.  By the way, to my amusement, the origin of the word pot pourri is French and means literally, rotten pot.  I'm laughing my ass off.


mimmaynard said...

do you know how many times I have used pot pourri as term to describe something??? LMAOOOOOOO
WHAT A HUMANITARIAN YOU ARE MAD MADY! This is a wonderfully intelligent blog about issues one should look at .. especially regarding themselves!!
your passion and candor always astounds me especially on just so natural to you... you are a born writer!!!( one of your many gifts, I might add) YOU SPEAK FROM YOUR HEART and so articulately put it to words,no matter how joyful or painful. I find myself RIGHT THERE WITH YOU..... blog my friend blog.. get this out there!!!! and let people read and hopefully reflect... love you mad mad!

Madly Mad said...

A Reply from Madly Normal:

To clarify for those who randomly wander into Madly Normal, the words "voices around me" include the author of the comment above and her incredibly courageous sister, Noodle. When I say I resisted starting this consider the vision of trying to put a cat in its carrier for a trip to the vet. That was me. Mim and Noodle gave me the legs to move on it and for that I love them both. Of course, there are numerous other reasons. This is but one.