Forty years of finger food.
She started out with lovely hands, just like those of her sisters and friends. Then fear came knocking; and cheerful certainties were replaced with doubt. Her heart wavered, and the pulling started. The assaults crept up, vicious and swiping, creating bloody pain. Though her skin crept bravely back again and again, and relentlessly hopeful sinews showed her a better way, fearfully she attacked, each time swearing it was finished and each time returning to stare balefully at the scene of devastation. Her sister wept unseen, for such frantic sorrow and ugliness.
She learned to sit with her hands folded in, the thumbs covered, to hide ridges of crenelated repulsion, spirals witnessing to her despair. And always, hope reached and grew out again, as her father whispered rebukes or blustered about the state of her.
“What you are seeking is stillness,” said a new friend, who knew: Self-expression allowing smiles to remain open; courage to sing a few wrong notes and stay serene; not swoop to self-hatred for her frailties, but, as another reminded her gently,
May you love yourself completely, and with great kindness, just as you are now, no matter what happens… offering a meditation which is intended to be repeated, until it is believed. Such generous permissions as these, over time extended hope like a new hand, setting her free and renewed, to explore the reality of forgiveness and fresh release. Thus, true silence began and held, gently and then firmly.
Wisdom, so clear and obvious, finally showed her how to be still, how to wait patiently, and with hope. While waiting, her skin knitted quietly and her hands grew peaceful.
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February 9, 2015
A Writing Habit
Fran Macilvey choices, gratitude, habits, time, writing Path To Publication, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing 5 Comments
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 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.
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