Fran Macilvey

About Fran Macilvey

Posts by :

February 7, 2018

The price of social conformity

, , 0 Comments

The price of social conformity

It seems rather sad to me that, in an age where it is becoming increasingly unacceptable to discriminate against individuals for any reason in the social sphere, neonates are not, apparently, always to be embraced in the same way.

Pre-birth testing, in which a range of genetic anomalies is screened for in early pregnancy, is not 100% reliable, but is the small percentage of ‘false positives’ an acceptable margin to eliminate non-mainstream presentations? And how much does society lose as a whole, in firstly, our acceptance of the principles of screening for their own sake, and secondly, from the loss of the gifts that accrue to society when we live with and encounter difference?

Ethical questions such as these will not go away any time soon. Meantime, we need to ask ourselves how far we value conformity, and to question how far we are prepared to accept medical screening advances that carry a sting in the tail. How far are we prepared to accept the rights of ‘society’ or ‘medical convention’ to dictate outcomes? How strong will we need to be to resist the pressures of our peers and our families to conform? And what do we lose in our insistence on ways of life that exclude individual traits that happen to occur in a minority of the population?

Is it acceptable, in an age where we pride ourselves on being more tolerant and open, to put certain families and individuals into the spotlight in this way, simply because medical screening is increasingly widespread and risk free? If we are lucky enough not to have such risks running in our families, it is easy enough to say, “Yes, of course…!” but in families where certain traits are well known and recurrent – Huntingtons, for example – is it fair to impose that kind of social expectation?

Individual choices impact on society in surprising ways, and the cumulative effect of individual choices to proceed with terminations of, say, Downs fetuses, may, indirectly cause society to become less robust, less tolerant of difference. Compare the ‘rain forest’ model of life, in which many different aspects live with and among each other, with the ‘plantation’ model, in which only certain traits are encouraged, and the others are screened out as ‘undesirable’ or ‘unnecessary’. I worry that, since we do not know all the relevant variables in this debate, we may be making decisions now that have a significantly adverse impact on social provision and attitudes in the future. If we screen out genetic traits, might we also screen out other traits that we deem less than desirable?

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

February 5, 2018

Non invasive prenatal testing

, , 2 Comments

Non invasive prenatal testing

I was listening to BBC Radio 4’s ‘From Our Own Correspondent” which contained a very interesting report on a synod being hosted by the Church of England on the subject of non invasive prenatal testing and Downs. The report was candid and raised some interesting questions, some of the ramifications of which just seem to roll out like a ball of string in my mind.

To summarise, certain countries – I think Iceland and Denmark got a mention – use a form of non-invasive testing to screen for genetic abnormalities in foetuses, testing which is so prevalent that, in Iceland now, no children are born with Downs. It has been postulated that with wider use of such non invasive testing, genetic traits such as Downs might be screened out altogether from a population. What are the ethical ramifications?

Traditionally, testing for prenatal genetic abnormalities has often been invasive: the scary amniocentesis test carries its own risk of subsequent abortion, which tends to mean that mothers who have the amnio test are strongly advised to proceed with an abortion if test results indicate a tested-for anomaly.

Now, with the widespread use of non-invasive tests, the risk to the mother is nil, and so the pressure whether or not to proceed with a termination in the event of a positive test for a genetic anomaly becomes almost purely social. Non- invasive tests are great – and will doubtless be touted as a big step forward for the free mother lobby – but I doubt that freedom itself is so straightforward.

The risks shift the nature of maternal choice further from the medical sphere and plant it more firmly in the social sphere. I suspect that ‘freedom’ will move from the rights of the mother not to put herself at medical risk, to the right of the mother to do what is socially expected of her.

And, does it benefit society at large that all individuals should be the same? I personally am concerned that, because of the nature of medical advances, individuals of difference will, increasingly be tolerated only within social spheres that take a moral or political stance: Churches, or societies that embrace the totality of the human condition will probably be in a minority, although the gifts that individuals bring to such communities is immeasurable. And mothers will have to have the strength of Job to resist.

To be continued.

Thanks for reading

 

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

February 2, 2018

Lessons learned from writing

, , , , , , 2 Comments

Lessons learned from writing

My first book, ‘Trapped’

is my first baby, with which I am well pleased, and which shares more hopeful lessons learned from decades of misery. It was a very challenging work to produce – and it very nearly didn’t get written; it would have been so easy to simply turn my head away from the challenge and say, ‘Can’t be bothered’ – but I did pick up the gauntlet that was left lying there, and learned a great deal in the process. I’ve often said, if one other person has also been helped, that has made the whole ordeal worthwhile.

But in some ways, ‘Trapped’ is only a first step. It represents a coming to terms with things, a decision to put away yearning, and start living; a resolution to put an end to simply existing and start moving forward, creating things more consciously. Its narrative ends at the point where coming to terms – what do they call it, a coming of age? – has been reached. But having come to terms, we then need to move forward – and fast, if we have spent so many years simply dawdling on the side-lines. There is living to catch up on.

Which is where my second book comes in. In ‘Happiness Matters’

I had ten years to refine the lessons which remind me, over and over again, that I can only hope to be helpful to others if I can find it in myself to be happy first.

I can’t hope to find any of the answers, or any emotional or spiritual sustenance, unless I learn first, to do, and say, and be, what I would like. Which is not an invitation to a life of hedonistic indulgence; I would soon get bored with that. But it does recognise that the only things worth doing are those that come from sincerity, joy and contentment. So happiness within ourselves is not the outcome, as much as the spring-board that gives life to our most relevant, worthwhile actions. I’m glad to remember that, again, today.

Thanks for reading, and for all your support.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

January 31, 2018

Spring weather

, , 2 Comments

Spring weather

A recent trip north to see my family, to say hi to Mum, finds her ensconced in her slippers, reading a not very good book – which she is determined to finish – and the rest of my family hard at work on household chores or employment elsewhere. A big house takes a lot of tending.

To join in the spirit of the gathering, I have also brought my work, which means that after an amazing two-hour drive – through torrential rain between Edinburgh and Kinross and then out onto quiet roads in bright, calm sunshine – we all now sit in companionable peace, not needing to be entertained but all pleased and doing our own thing. I am glad to be able to report that Mum is settled, and with her new glasses and finally sleeping well, she looks and seems better than in about two years. Come to think of it, since before my father died, and before all those notaries – my mother, in jest, refers to them as notary 1A, 1B, 2A, 2B, 3A and 3B… – started variously raising our hopes and dashing them.

In the legal morass there have been several heroes and heroines – thank God! – foremost among them my eldest sister, and my mother, who has borne it all, through intense grief, with courage and her trademark sardonic stoicism.

It is wonderful to be here now, and to reflect that all is growing into new beginnings, just as the Spring is about to take hold. I have high hopes for 2018, and not just because all our legal troubles are – hopefully – coming to a close, but because, unexpectedly, we have all weathered them so well and come through stronger, more peaceful and more kind with each other. For which I am so grateful.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

January 29, 2018

The last two years

, , 6 Comments

The last two years

Since my father died – in March 2016 – and my brother died in October 2016 – my life, the last two years of my gentle, unassuming life has been held rather in abeyance by legal minefields – estate in three countries, family in three countries, and notaries who prove reluctant to communicate, listen or act with what I would call dispatch. Thankfully, all that – all that, and so much more – is almost – finally – nearly finished. So now, maybe I can build new memories of my father and brother, unencumbered by the pain of legal decrapitude.

It is really quite sad to reflect that the last two years have been blighted by thoughts of notaries, clerical requirements, your word against mine, apostilles, trips to Belgium – at least a dozen – and endless phone-calls interspersed with pained waiting.

I have learned a very great deal from the entire process: what really matters, how to wait, how to listen more fully and be present to the gifts in every situation, how to deal with other people’s confused agendas, how to … live well while all is in abeyance and threatening to unravel. These are not gifts I expected to receive from the confusion that first greeted us, and I am grateful for the opportunities to learn. But…

I am also grateful that now, my sisters, my mother and I can grieve. At last. And say adieu properly, remembering my family fondly.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

January 26, 2018

Time and tide wait for no woman

, , , , , 0 Comments

Time and tide wait for no woman

Time and tide wait for no woman…. Just occasionally – Not at all often, I am pleased to note – I encounter comments about my book, ‘Trapped’ along the lines of ‘miserable book, miserable git’ or words to that effect.  Not that I mind – different strokes for different folks; and these days I’m more likely to smile at that, than get upset.

‘Trapped’ took me four years or so to write, and was first published in hardback in 2014.  In the intervening period my hopes, attitudes and beliefs have undergone several revolutions.  I guess I’m hardly an impartial witness, though readers can also scan my web content to find my second book, ‘Happiness Matters’ a modest tome about how to be happy.  So I can’t be that much of a miserable git these days.  The test would be whether such comments as these reduce me to an indignant, grumbling mess.  They don’t.

What we are, who we are and what we think about what matters in life, are facets that are constantly evolving.  There is not much I would wish to alter about my books, or my writing, but all things change, and writing ‘Trapped’, my sincere attempt to reflect on my first forty years of life, changed me, and changed my attitudes to life in general, and my life in particular.  I learned a lot from the process, mostly, about the importance of doing our best, and of being as happy as possible more of the time.  Valuable lessons that have empowered me to move forward.  I can’t say I would write or do anything else differently, or speculate how my life might have turned out if I had opted to become a visual artist, say, or stayed on working as a solicitor.

The publishing industry calls memoir, ‘narrative non-fiction’ which is a very polite way of saying that the content is largely true, but reads like a novel and will probably contain some plot holes and a few examples of poetic license.  But after ten years, the truths that held true when we first wrote THE END to finish our memoir, have probably changed, as will the authors themselves.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

January 23, 2018

Editing my next book

, , , 2 Comments

Editing my next book, Making Miracles’

I have made time lately – finally! – to get on with editing my next indie book, ‘Making Miracles’, which I hope to publish in May this year.  Given my legendary ability to procrastinate, having a deadline of sorts helps me to focus with the job in hand. Deadlines help me both to work better, and to relax, knowing that I can plan and aim for a certain date.

‘Making Miracles’ is based on a dream diary that I have been keeping since… let me see…since about 2002. That would be about the time I stopped my work as a solicitor and found myself plunged, unexpectedly and joyfully, into new adventures called, ‘parenthood’ and ‘adulthood’ and ‘growing up’.  The practical needs around being a stay at home mother meant my writing didn’t start seriously until Seline began school, but I did keep up with my dream diary, a process which has taught me so much, and which, if I’m honest, is proving rather daunting to review and edit so that it may be published.

Yes, I would like some of this to reach a wider audience, because I have found it so very instructive and interesting. But it is also personal, and challenges me in a ways I never really expected to be, so that the editing is not the light-hearted breeze I had been anticipating.

I’m wary of causing offence with my talk of God, angels, guides and past lives. But in that concern, I find it very important not to agonise over whether I’m doing the right thing, whether I should mention this or that, and whether any of it matters. By far my most important discipline right now is to go ahead, keep going, and leave some of that high-flown worrying until later. At least that attitude helps me to keep moving.

Thanks for reading.

 

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

January 21, 2018

Reading while writing

, , , , 6 Comments

Reading while writing

 

Few pastimes give me greater pleasure, these days, than leaving wonderful reviews for books that I have discovered that are – wonderful. Well written, funny, intriguing, satisfying, well plotted, thoughtful… we have a hundred adjectives to describe why we like books. I have a few reads and reviews to catch up on.

So I guess I do read while writing, but not always, and definitely not at the same time – even with my super-light e reader, I don’t have enough fingers. Perhaps it also depends somewhat on what genre I’m writing in.

Narrative non-fiction is challenging on so many levels – make it read like fiction, but true, up to a point of view, and don’t tread on anyone’s toes – that I recall long periods of not reading while I was writing Trapped. I was too caught up in my parallel world to continuously make the transition to other parallel worlds, so I kept those others at bay for a while. There was also a lot of emotional stuff to process, so it would have been hard to read anything except books that could matter in the same way – and I didn’t need any more of that.

But while writing Happiness Matters

 

I certainly did read other books, for the change of scene, for light relief and for a pool of ideas to help me refine the text of what I was writing. In any case, my writing rate is relatively slow: I might write two books over the course of three years, and not in strictly chronological order, either, so reading has been vital to keep my impetus going, and to give me space to reflect and escapist time off.

Writing fiction is another whole pond to swim about it, and, on the whole, I enjoy reading books – at bed-time, first thing in the morning – that help me to compare my work. I used to find this very hard to do. Comparisons were never far away, and my insecurities would run riot; but these days, I simply rejoice to find a new author, or a new book that I can enjoy.

Thanks for reading!

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

January 19, 2018

Walking on my hands

, 0 Comments

Walking on my hands

I remember many years ago coming home from an evening out with a boyfriend.  For some reason, as I put my key in the lock and turned it, I grazed my knuckle, which bled profusely.  Said fellow – oh, the cad! – refused to believe me when I said I had cut it thus; and when he did, he could scarcely credit my carelessness.  I had no sympathy from that quarter.  At the time I was puzzled and confused, until I realised he thought I had been lying, trying to fetch out extra sympathy, perhaps.

Recently, another piece of the puzzle slotted into place quite obviously.  Last year, I was diagnosed by my new optician with – not serious – inferior peripheral blindness.  I appear to have been born with this.  Which means that, when I walk into a dark room, that is why I fall over things.  I don’t see them.  Ha! Something else makes more sense now.

I also notice that when I walk, I do fly about a bit, and appear to rely on my hands constantly, to field the space around me, to move about safely and find my way.  Perhaps as some kind of answer to reduced vision – of which, I must say, I am entirely unaware.  I must have always known about my hands-on navigating technique, but was unaware until recently – as a result of several injuries and cuts that have put everything ever so slightly off kilter – of the extent to which my fingers graze the roughcast walls of the stairwell, for example, or my hands grip the bannister and catch and snag as they do so when I go up and down the stairs.

I shall just have to be more careful, slow down and watch more closely.  Or wear gloves.  Which would have several other benefits.  I’m not sure if I can type with gloves on, but perhaps it is worth a try.

Thanks for reading!

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr

January 17, 2018

Lost without my find key

, 4 Comments

Lost without my Find Key

So there I am, after a day of editing, busily editing some small part of my Mum’s next book.  She has written many, all of which we will have to get published.  And blow me down with a feather, if I don’t find the pages of one rather early draft, neglected for a time, scattered with strange Chinese characters, all of which help to further obscure the meaning of a rather, um, specialised text.  What to do?  Go through every page carefully deciphering each complex character to try and reconstruct the underlying meaning?

Visiting Mum later on, I remembered to mention this to her, and she said, “You only have to use ‘Find’ and ‘Replace’ twenty-six times” Each Chinese character substitutes for one letter of the western alphabet – of course!  Sounds so obvious when I remember…

Or, almost asleep one evening, I suddenly realise that I have an abundance of one particular word – ‘that’, say – in a paragraph…which I can easily locate and thin down with other, more interesting words in our abundant English language lexicon.  Find and Replace are such useful functions on my WP programme, and every day, when I am writing, as I casually edit them, I thank God for the clever person who thought about this and realised that reading through screeds of paper to find the one misplaced phrase is time better spent doing – almost – anything else.

I would be truly lost without the ‘Find’ and ‘Replace’ keys.  It takes me time to navigate round new templates, and my fondness for this and a host of other useful functions, is one reason why I delay upgrading to a newer computer system.  (That, and a rather old-fashioned loyalty to pieces of equipment that have not yet died on me.)  I get used to things and am loath to change them.

Thanks for reading.

Please share:

FacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblrFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedintumblr
«‹ 29 30 31 32›»