Fran Macilvey's Blog, page 51

Fight or Flight?

Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding, belly-twisting nervousness: what caused the adrenaline? Was it justified? How did you respond?

 

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Miranda, The Tempest, by John William Waterhouse

I am nervous a lot of the time, about what I’m going to find in my IN box at home, especially anything headed up ‘Trapped’ from my publishers. My commissioning editor was an angel through all the editing and refining processes prior to publication, but the first time I received my book back with her comments, I thought I might faint, and it was the gentle voice of my husband and his soothing hands on my shoulders that calmed me, and anchored me once more to reality.

Most anxiety is un-necessary, isn’t it? It’s not as if we are being chased by sabre toothed tigers, or threatened with bodily annihilation. Yet, the strangest fears can set us off: that people don’t like us; that they have judged us and found us wanting; that we are being excluded or punished when ‘bad’ stuff happens.

‘Bad stuff’ is simply more of what allows us to choose. How could we ever discover what we prefer, without it? It is easy to talk, though. When our hearts are pounding and we feel ill, all the words in the world hardly make an impact. It is our��continuing to be,��our realization we are the same as we have always been, that gently takes us back home, one step at a time.

 

VIPWIP

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‘Windswept’ by John William Waterhouse

 

I was at a lovely wedding recently, and took the occasion to wear my favourite, candy-pink jacket and purple dress. Sometimes weddings can descend into socially acceptable boredom, with everyone hanging around being polite while photos are taken ���..But this was a delicious, friendly affair, and being decked out in my finery lifted my mood so high!�� (I toyed with wearing Quakerly grey, but thankfully, that impulse was resisted.)

We stopped at our local vitamin shop on the way home ��� as you do! ��� and enquired fondly after the wellbeing of the gentle ladies within, whose help and vitamins have seen off many a wobbly moment. They said, ���Yes, they were fine, a work in progress���.��� In my fanciful,��light mood, and knowing my fondness for idiotic TLA���s I thought, Work in Progress = WIP. We are all WIPS.

But we are all Very Important too = VIPWIPs. Very important people, works in progress. We laughed so much that Seline walked out the shop.

Told you I was feeling light-hearted. ��Hope you have a lovely day!

 

It’s a Wonderful Life

Recently I have had the occasion and fair opportunity to convene the forces of my life around a great big table and remonstrate with them, ���Now, Look Here!��� I can just imagine them sitting to attention at my slightly uncharacteristic outburst.�� And this is what I want to say, to Life and to Myself.

I may be a ���working from home author��� who has work to do; but I also have lots of other lives to be getting on with.

My husband deserves to see more of me than my back. He is a good, kind soul who works hard to fund my writing life, and after almost two decades together, we still enjoy each other’s company, especially any space in the day that is unencumbered by��our preoccupations��with work.

I would love to have an office ��� and a boss ��� who would say, ‘Now, that���s enough, take the weekend off and relax, fgs.’��Well, I am my own boss, and I hereby give myself four weeks holiday a year. Wow! That already feels amazing.��Cue: locate��desk diary. Week one of the Easter vacation is booked.

The opportunities I have missed to be with my daughter make me wistful. Thankfully, she is a gentle, forgiving soul���.like her dad. She knows I am working, and is prepared to wait���but here���s the thing.

I deserve to do more than travail. If my ship is going to come in, it will do so when it is good and ready. (It is probably already parked at the dock; but while I insist on sitting at my keyboard, that truth is easy to miss, and the bigger picture goes un-noticed.)

Meantime, I would also like to do ordinary stuff, like buying clothes when I need them ��� my trousers are falling to pieces ��� and going out to the movies or to the pub. These are normal��activities. And I feel happier and better when I partake of them.�� I trust that God will take care of the rest.

Bless you!

 

 

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Inupiat Family from Noatak, Alaska, 1929, (Edward S Curtis – restored)

Capability Scotland – The Great Scottish Book Off

Girl Reading – Jean Baptiste Camille Corot

 

Books, in one form or another, have been lent and borrowed for thousands of years. In the modern age, when kindles are all the rage, we cannot swap electronic devices so easily, when we wish to share our discoveries. ‘Real’ books remind us of the joy of sharing and engaging with others as we discover new reads. Books are made to be shared.

In the run-up to World Book Day on Thursday,��5th March, Capability Scotland are running the Great Scottish Book Off, inviting us all to dig out a few books we have read, and arrange a book swap event with our friends. The idea is to organise a get-together, charge a modest admission, and then pass any funds raised to Capability Scotland.

I am delighted to announce that on the evening of 5th March from 6.30 – 7.30 pm at��Blackwells Bookstore,��53-62 South Bridge, Edinburgh, EH1 1YS. I will be giving a reading from Trapped��and answering questions. Please join us if you can.

I am very grateful to Capability for inviting me to contribute to their fundraising campaign, and I am looking forward to a lively and friendly event.

 

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“Narciso (Narcissus pseudonarcissus), Jard��n Bot��nico, M��nich, Alemania 2012-04-21, DD 01″ by Poco a poco – Own work.

Half Term Holidays

Valentine’s day tomorrow is associated in my mind with a��patina of sorrow and heartbreak. Too often, there have been rugby games on, or some social commitment elsewhere, which has meant that traditionally, Mum stayed��behind and guarded the homestead, while Dad took himself off to be with other people. In the days when I hoped for/expected a token of love, this was saddening; now, I just smile and enjoy myself, whatever anyone else is doing! There are major advantages to loving Life, rather than hoping to meet love through��our expectations of others.

This year,��Valentines happens to be the start of the school half-term holidays, which offers a break from the usual routines; and tomorrow we��are invited to a wedding. It is going to be a friendly, fun affair, with lots of laughter and peace. I am looking forward to that, and shall take the chance to wear a dress – amazing! – so that daughter can notice I have legs, hubby can wear his kilt, and we can all be together. I am so looking forward to it.

The last few months have been busy, so I shall probably take the��opportunity that next week offers, to rest and recharge the batteries. I hope your time is filled with joy and peace.

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Johannes Vermeer, ‘Young Woman with a Water Pitcher’

 

Out There, or in Here?

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“Eastern Tiger Swallowtail Papilio glaucus on Milkweed 2800px” Photo (c)2008 Derek Ramsey

They say that the Truth is out there, but sometimes, I wish it was easier to grasp.�� On Wednesday morning, all was calm, serene and well ordered. By the evening, various family events and other unexpected nothings – as well as the effects of a late night – were catching up, and I was anything but calm.

Then I wondered at that. On the surface, nothing had changed. Just��eight hours��after my earlier optimism (which now seemed��na��ve and disappointing)��exactly the same��possibilities��were evident; it was only my expectations that had altered. I had been happy earlier,��ignorant that��‘bad news’ was transpiring,��and was now in a bad mood, even though��that��small crisis was resolving well.

Expecting good news, and instead hearing a deafening silence, or bad news, we��might assume that God is a bit of a sadist: giving us hope and then making us stumble. We could grumble about that, wondering at the see-saw of hope versus experience.

But on the calm surface, all is as it has always been. Outwardly, there��is no reason to be upset or confused. Life just carries on. That truth rests In Here, just waiting until we can be quiet enough to listen.

I think it is time to get back to my reading, so that I can say, ‘I feel very��Zen’ and mean it again. I like that feeling of inner calm, the certainty that knows Life is delicious.

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Love

 

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“Polyommatus Eros common meadow blue Lycaenidae” by Charles J Sharp – Own work.

 

���Careful now, we don���t want to drop her, do we?���

Her dark anxiety faded as a dazed, fretful bundle nudged and stretched. A fist found and grasped Helen���s finger like a lifeline, so tight, Helen knew she could never let go, and her heart contracted lovingly. Creased lines in the tiny face would gradually relax as the days slowly widened. Eyes open, Cassie gazed longingly into her mother���s eyes.

���She looks like her Dad, see?��� and Helen began to cry.

���Yes, she does������

The pain of loss stretched her chest and caught her breath. Ordinarily, she took condolences politely, with a hint of a tear and a rueful smile, ���Yes, Jonathan was a special man���.very special������. At night, the covers over that cavern slipping, she fell and could not breathe. While their babe slept, heaving sobs gripped her throat. She welcomed them, let them wash her grief, clear the stains of loss, the waste of his stinking sickness, and the happy times before he died and left her alone.

It got easier. Cassie smiled so brightly, and her golden hair, at first so sparse and fine, grew over her crown into thick, shiny tresses.

At nine months, Cassie played and cooed on her mat, flicking the crinkly cow���s tail and pressing the buzzy bee���s wings. Cassie lifted her chin to Mum sprinkling glitter, blissful blue eyes catching sparkles.

Doorbell. Letter. Who writes letters these days?

Darling Helen

Thank you for being so brave.

With all my love, always,

Your Jonathan

 

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Johannes Vermeer – ‘Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window’

The Present

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Johannes Vermeer, ‘Woman reading a letter’ ca. 1662-1663.

 

I’ve been reading ‘spiritual’ books for as long as I can remember.�� It started with a desperate quest for answers about growing up, about womanhood, emotions and sex.�� The answers were elusive because first of all, I was asking the wrong questions, secondly, I was looking in the wrong places,��and thirdly, I was really not able to listen to the answers.

I like making up aphorisms, such as ‘if you can’t find the answer, it is because you are asking the wrong question’, but the truth is that we learn what we are ready to learn; and when a young woman is filled with anger, with frustration and grief, the only thing she wants is someone to say, ‘I understand, and I shall listen without revulsion or judgement.’ She is not ready to learn anything, not really. The grief and mourning of��loss are too strong and too fresh.��It is only when we have allowed the emotion, and then let it go, that in the calm we can listen for the love, the wisdom and the��happiness that will lead us to where we��all long��to go: to peace, to joy and to freedom.

I’ve been reading ‘spiritual’ books for a long time. Now I have a handful that I keep, and read in rotation, each one every few years or so. I notice with every return that I understand and��appreciate something new, and step a little deeper into the answers that I was seeking as a young woman. It seems a pity that I was so caught up with my losses, that even simple answers were beyond me. But then, I was not ready yet, and would have argued and ranted and mocked. I was not ready for the simple truths of joy. I would have ignored them.

Today’s answer is that the Present is all there is; and in the Present, we have all the joy and peace we could desire. Waiting patiently beneath the layers of complex life that crowd out our joy, there is peace and freedom and delight which never ends. It is a well of love that never fails, that in its deeps can melt all our resistance.

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Peacock Butterfly

A Writing Habit

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Johannes Vermeer ‘A Lady Writing’ c 1665

 

The more I write, the more I discover there is to write about. It seems to be one of these laws of universal truth, that committing to a regular writing habit and blogging five times a week is easier and more fulfilling than writing less often, (at days and times which constantly need considering). Somehow, committing is the most important part, and then the rest comes more easily.

I have gaps in my schedule and��become increasingly��used to working around whatever else is going on. So, the plumber has just phoned to say he is coming over on Wednesday to get started on fitting a new boiler (YAY!) at a time when I would usually be swimming, or writing, or sorting out laundry. Instead of worrying that my life needs to be reorganised, I just accept that gratefully, and swim later, or another day. Life becomes so much easier, with the help of a few regular habits that become increasingly enjoyable. Blogging has become one of these: a personal diary and place for reflection that gives structure and support to me through the day. And, most importantly, writing it is soothing and pleasant. I do enjoy sharing snippets of my life with you, and reading about what you are doing. I am grateful for every comment, ���like��� and ���share���.

My brother tells me that the only thing other people cannot do for me, is write my material, which does��galvanise me. Increasingly I find that blogging is useful to get me started��and sustain me through book writing and editing too.��There are many, many benefits to blogging, which are not immediately obvious. But I discover more every day.

 

Grateful for Now

As soon as I type that title, ‘Grateful for Now’ – I notice it suggests that in a short while, I will be very ungrateful. I’m grateful for now, but Boy! Come tomorrow, I’ll be a vengeful woman. Watch your back!

Which is not at all what I mean. I’m grateful to have Now, and to be able, on this bright, sunny, cold day, to be at peace. As it is about�� seven degrees outside, I have opened all the windows, to banish the winter fug. The plumber has ordered��a new boiler, which will be delivered asap; my cleaner didn’t turn up today; and my daughter is lunching elsewhere, preparatory to returning home to pack her bags and go up the road to a sleep-over.�� (Kids these days have such fun. I’m very pleased for her, and plan to have lots of fun of my own, as soon as I can.)

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“Hot air balloon and moon” �� Tomas Castelazo, http://www.tomascastelazo.com / Wikimedia Commons. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

 

I have an unexpected couple of hours, in which to reflect on how lovely NOW is.

I picked up Eckhart Tolle’s first book��yesterday, and have been reading it again. It is one of a handful that I will always keep, because every time I read it, I discover something new, or notice a difference in my understanding. Progress which is hard to quantify, but which could probably be noticed in the number of times I nod, or smile, or think, ‘I’m glad to read this, right now. How amazing, that I should decide to read it again, today, of all days.’ And then, I can feel angels on my shoulder, cheering.

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The Angel Gabriel

I don’t agree with everything Tolle writes, but I��feel my disagreements are unimportant. It only matters that after��reading this book several times over the years, I still find��reassurance and explanations that I can home in on and��absorb gratefully. Each time I read more quickly, and��probably understand a bit more of the context. But each time also feels new, and interesting and such a – relief.

If nothing else, it is delicious to ponder the possibility that if we can only stay present, all of Life becomes rewarding. I suspect that many of us know, that creative solutions come to us from a place outside our minds. So, being present and stilling the mind chatter that we assume is ‘normal’ and inevitable, allows these creative possibilities to blossom.

Which is good news for everyone.

Have��a lovely weekend. I hope that, in mild sunshine, the signs of spring give you something to smile about.