This morning, riding out at Gilmerton in freezing temperatures, gloveless and probably wearing all the wrong attire, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Such happiness felt almost indecent, actually, but even that sober reflection could not force my mouth into a straighter line. While my helpers were struggling to keep warm and jumping around to unfreeze their extremities, I smiled inanely, filled with gratitude. I was instructed and counselled so carefully, and after a sore start, my legs settled down. Then, magically, with a straighter back and lengthening legs, sitting up from the hips instead of leading with my head, the pain left and I found my seat. I finally discovered what it means to sit on a horse properly, and move easily, go with the flow.
Yes, it felt odd to be sitting straight; but I am left wondering how often I have used my back mistakenly, forcing it to take responsibilities that should really, in the natural way of things, devolve more comfortably to the hips. Afterwards, returning to the car with that feeling fresh in my mind, I tried walking from the hips (instead of leaning forward, my head leading the way) and found that an unaccustomed straightness and unusual confidence was the outcome. Immediately, I wanted to go back and say, ‘Hey! Karen! You’ve taught me a new way to walk!! YAY!’
Quite an achievement for an unassuming class on a Tuesday morning. Must tell the ladies next week, how much I appreciate them. Would a box of chocolates and a large bunch of flowers be a bit over the top? Probably, but then – just imagine! Now, if I remember to walk from the hip, my view casts itself naturally up and outwards, instead of tilting uneasily towards the ground. Confidence lower in the body – instead of massive overcompensation in the back, neck and shoulders – translates into calmness, and awareness of what is happening on the horizon. It’s rather as if I have finally been given a pair of spectacles for distance, instead of being forced to wear reading glasses outside.
Wow.
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May 5, 2015
What Writing Means to Me
Fran Macilvey 'Trapped: My Life with Cerebral Palsy', cerebral palsy, Fran's School of Hard Knocks, Path To Publication, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing 11 Comments
Recently, I have been reflecting on what writing means to me, and whether my time is well spent. I mean, seriously, what is it all about? Why have I put myself through five of the most difficult, emotionally draining and – let’s face it – financially unrewarding years of my life? If I was an outsider, considering pros and cons, on the surface, I would conclude that Fran Macilvey is peculiarly driven: driven to work all-nighters while her family sleeps; driven to continue with the next project, the next hope, despite setbacks, illness and puzzlement from those more sober and grounded citizens of my acquaintance who really would prefer that I would apply my energies to a proper, reasonable, sensible and obvious job. Why, for goodness’ sake, must I always be different?
Because I am, is all. I make that sound nonchalant, easy to say. But if my life has taught me anything, it is the total futility of trying to keep up with other ‘ordinary’ people who have ‘ordinary’ jobs. I’ve tried that – really, I have – and it has only led to heartbreak and loss of a different kind.
In the old days, the pain was about not belonging, never fitting in, and never really understanding what was going on; I had that sinking feeling which made it plain that I never would understand, no matter how hard I might try. Nowadays, though there have been a few disappointments and false starts, I am more certain that I understand the basics and will continue to make progress. On my present path, every difficulty lends itself to a purpose, for a reason. It is easier to notice the ways in which unexpected outcomes serve a longer-term goal.
And above all, I write so that I may share my experiences with others. I can write, and so I should. I can explain, and so I do, in the hope that those who may read my pieces know that I understand something of their loneliness, their anger, even their desolation. It is not unusual to have these feelings, it is not peculiar or suspicious. They are just part of life.
Gradually, writing had revealed that our ‘bad’ experiences often complement the ‘good’, making our lives a tapestry which, when we look back at it, hopefully fills us with gratitude and optimism. That is how I see myself making the best of life’s knots, at any rate.
Thanks for reading.
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