Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe

SOPA Ireland -- How much more can we take?

2012-01-23T23:16:00.000Z

Anti-ACTA (Anti-Counterfeiting Trade Agreement) -- information on legislation about to be written into "law" that will affect personal liberties and civil rights, freedom of speech, the sharing of information and will introduce censorship and surveillance.

SOPA (Stop Online Piracy Act) is the name of a piece of US legislation that has now hit Irish shores -- our own ministers are about to sign this legislation into law WITHOUT IT BEING VOTED ON IN THE OIREACHTAS.

If you want to protect your rights as an intellectual being, then please sign the online petition against SOPA. I was going to recommend visiting http://www.anti-acta.com but it seems to be down. (Huh, I wonder why...) Here's the article from the Irish Sunday Business Post explaining the situation here in Ireland. We are not happy about this, and we will not let it get through. But we only have TEN DAYS to let ourselves be heard.

Think about it; we have passed down information like stories, songs, recipies, proverbs through word of mouth, as "folklore". Modern online communications have allowed us to share our knowledge with people all over the world. Twitter, for me, is a tool for modern folklore. If this legislation is passed, the progress that we have made in communication and knowledge-sharing will become redundant.

Ever since print was introduced, modern society has become obsessed with the ownership of knowledge and 'originality' in creativity. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS ORIGINALITY. GET OVER IT. Have you ever heard of intertextuality? Every type of human expression is not isolated, is not 'original'; it is an extension of everything that has come before, everything that is contemporary, and believe it or not, everything that is to come. This is intellectual freedom, not this slapping a copyright label on something and restricting its uses. Our ancestors were more progressive than we are -- we need to get with it, and stop trying to own everything. We all own everything and nothing.

Happy Yule!

2011-12-23T00:41:00.003Z

<--- My Yule log :)

I had a conversation recently with someone about my paganism, and they asked me if I practiced, i.e. did magic. It turns out they were like myself -- we both read about our faith and its pratices, but didn't get around to being active about it. I've decided it's time for me to become a pagan of action!

I thought I had read somewhere about the wee ritual that I've undertaken tonight, but it actually must have come from my own devices. None of my sources have this simple gesture amongst their 'spells' or rituals. I must have tapped into the symbolism that we all share instinctively (whether folk listen to it these days or not...), and drew upon this reflection on the dark coming back into the light. All you need is a black candle, a white candle, a bit of peace, and yourself. You light the black candle, watch it burn, and reflect on whichever of these that suits (or all if you want!): a) qualities that have been dormant and hidden in you for too long; b) personal concerns or worries that you try to bury; c) events of the past year, good and bad (I know that the new year technically starts at Samhain, but you know what I mean...). You can do this all on one night, or on each night from the 20th-22nd. Then you light your white candle from the flame of the black, to signify the transition from the reign of darkness to light. Leave both lighting for a while as you visualise in your mind the transition, and figure out what it means for you. Then blow out the black candle, as the god of darkness has been defeated, and focus on the white, the victory/rebirth of the god of light. Reflect on the following in correspondence to your reflection(s) on the black candle: a) visualise the possibilities of your dormant qualities and talents, and putting them into practice; b) look forward to the days of light and imagine yourself overcoming current difficulties; c) think on what you want to achieve in the coming year. You can light your white candle for the following nights as a physical reminder of the positive outcome from your reflections.

What I love about paganism is that everyone has the power; I smiled to myself as I lit my candles on their brass candlesticks, thinking about how people feel the need to turn to priests and ministers in order to contact the divine. Nonsense -- organised religion removed people from the power that they already had, herding them into churches and removing from the real divinity of Nature.

Look at the solstice at Newgrange nowadays -- we used to be able to watch it on telly, then it went online with presenters that were also hooked up to the radio. Now it's merely a live video online with no commentary or pomp whatsoever. I suppose we should be grateful that we get to see it at all! Why have we become increasingly alienated from our heritage and our humanity? People need to realise that they have to take back their traditions and their spirituality for themselves, and not let people manipulate them and make a fortune out of their souls.

Cabaret Craiceáilte

2011-12-21T21:51:00.000Z

Nuachtlitir déanta ag Tomaí Ó Conghaile - an-fhont!

So bhí mé thuas (nó thíos -- dar le Nicholas Williams...) i nGaoth Dobhair ag an deireadh seachtaine -- den chéad uair ariamh! Yep, chuala tú i gceart mé. Ní raibh mé i dTír Chonaill (ceart) ariamh. N'fheadar cén fáth... Ceapaim anois gur chóir dom bheith ann fada fada ó shin! Táim cairdiúil le roinnt Conallaigh, agus bíonn muid ag caint is ag comhrá ar Twitter agus araile. Bím ag éisteacht le Rónán Beo, agus bhí mé ag caint ar an gclár féin faoi bhlagadóireacht na Gaeilge ar ais i mí Dheireadh Fómhair. Cloisim an-chuid tráchtanna ar Thigh Hiúdaí már lár-ionad na nGael, agus bíonn roinnt plotáil á dhéanamh ag daoine ann ar son na cúise -- Réabhlóid na Gaeilge! (Tá muid i mbun na Ruabhlóide anois freisin, ach ní féidir mórán a rá faoi sin nó beidh orainn tú a mharú -- t' fhios agat a' bharraíocht cheana!) Chuir cara liom ón gciorcal comhrá i Sligeach scairt orm chun mé a chur ar an eolas go mbeadh an Cabaret ar siúl, agus bhraith mé gur mithid dom freastal air. Ní raibh mé go maith le gairid, bhí croí trom agus spiorad lag a'm, agus bhí spraoi ag teastáil uaim. Agus bhfuil fhios a'd, b' é an Cabaret díreach an rud a bhí de dhíth orm!

Cé gur newbie Craiceáilte mise, bhraith mé díreach "sa mbaile" i measc an chomhluadair bhreá a bhí ann -- cuireadh fáilte mhór Chonallach romham, agus táim an-bhuíoch as. :) Bhí mé ag caint leis na carachtair áitiúla, agus thug siad aire dhom agus ba mhinic i rith na hoíche go ndúirt fear acu liom "'Bhfuil tú alright?" Aww. Ní raibh aire ag teastáil, óir b' oíche ar dóigh faoi stiúir Rónáin a bhí ann, leis an gceol agus daoine ag casadh amhrán; Na Bonny Men, An Crann Óg, Bríd Ní hIcí agus Doimnic Mac Giolla Bhríde ina measc. Cheannaigh mé an ceirnín nua ag Doimnic ag an gCabaret actually -- déanann sé cóiriú spéisiúil ar na hamhráin, lena ghuth traidisiúnta féin, na píobaí agus téaduirlisí. Cheapfá gur meascán aisteach é, ach oibríonn sé! Ar nós rud eicínt as an 19ú haois. Tá sé deacair dhom é a mhíniú... Feicim íomhánna i m'intinn agus mé ag éisteacht le ceol, agus samhlaím áit lom, gruaimeach dorcha, ach tá tinte á lasadh ann... Oícheanta Geimhrí. Boladh na móna. Corrdhuine amuigh, ach daoine eile i bhfolach i dtithe. Ha, rud eicínt cosúil leis "The Darkling Thrush" ag Thomas Hardy. Fánach, t' fhios a'm. Táim ag éisteacht leis an gceirnín anois agus mé ag clóscríobh. T' fhios a'd go bhfuil grá, scéalta agus amhráin le fáil sna tithe sin i mo shamhlaíocht... An saol ag leanacht ar aghaidh faoin dorchadas. In ainneoin an dorchadais. Grianstad an Gheimhridh inniu, tá an stuif sin ar m'intinn. Pééééé scéal é...

Bhí orm mo chluas a chur i dtiúin leis an mblas Ultach, agus cuireadh iontas orm nuair a chuala mé "Caidé mar atá thu" -- gheallfainn dhuit go raibh mé ag cloisteáil "Ciamar a tha thu" sa nGàidhlig! Dúradh liom go bhfuil an chanúint i nGaoth Dobhair go mór faoi thionchar na Gàidhlige, ach wow, ní raibh fhios a'm go raibh sé chomh láidir sin! Tá nascanna láidre idir an ceantar agus Alban, le daoine ag aistriú idir an dá háit thar na glúine. Bhí an áit feiliúnach dhomsa mar sin, agus bhí Alban le brath. [Osna] Neamh. Actually, bhí an deis a'm labhairt as Gàidhlig le cailín eile ann; bha sinn air ar dòigh ghlan, ach bhí daoine eile ag breathnú orainn sa mhéid is le rá "Céard the fuck a bhfuil sibhs on about?" Ha! Táim ag gáirí anois agus mé ag smaoineamh ar an iar-chóisir a bhí 'ainn! Bhí cúpla duine 'ainn i dtosach, agus ansin, shíl gang mór isteach, randomers agus píobaí uilleann ina measc! Lean leis an gceol, amhráin agus an chaint go maidin.

An chuimhin leat an blag a scríobh mé i rith an tsamhraidh, agus bhí mé ag gearán faoin scoilt idir Gaeilgeoirí na gcathracha agus muintir na Gaeltachta? Ní raibh taithí iontach mhaith a'm sa nGaeltacht roimhe seo, agus caithfidh mé a admháil anois go raibh cuid de sin mar gheall air m' easpa muiníne fhéin. Bhí taithí i bhfad níos difriúla a'm i nGaoth Dobhair ná mar a bhí a'm sna Gaeltachtaí eile. Nílim ag iarraidh bheith maslach in aghaidh mhuintir na nGaeltachtaí eile, ar ndóigh! Ach... Bhraith mé go raibh muintir Thír Chonaill oscailte agus bhí atmaisféar breá neamhfhoirmiúil lán de spraoi ag an gCabaret. Ní raibh éinne ró-dháiríre agus ní raibh brú ann -- bhí daoine ann chun bualadh le chéile agus ceoltóirí nua a spreagadh, trí mheán na Gaeilge. Sin an aidhm a bhí ag Rónán agus an criú leis an gCabaret nuair a chuir siad tús leis sa mbliain 2008 -- sult a bhaint as an gcultúr atá againn, idir stuif sean-bhunaithe agus stuif nua, agus daoine óga a mhealladh chun na teanga gan an bagáiste a bhíonns ag baint le heagraíochtaí mar Chonradh na Gaeilge. Tá ag éirí leo, dar liom, agus molaim go croíúil do dhaoine óga dul chuig an gCabaret agus gheobhaidh siad misneach iontu féin agus sa teanga (aríst).

D'fhéadfá a rá go raibh mé ag troid leis an teanga ar feadh píosa, agus bhraith mé chomh... N'fheadar. As áit, ar an imeall? Ó thaobh na Gaeilge dhe. Ach tá Rónán agus an criú th'éis misneach agus dóchas a thabhairt dom aríst.

Dála an scéil, ag tagairt don bhlag sin aríst; thug an méid a scríobh mé le tuiscint gur chóir cainteoirí na gcathracha leanacht lena gcaint fhéin, gan bheith buartha faoi chanúintí áirithe toisc nach as na ceantair sin iad agus go bhfuil canúintí nua á gcruthú sna cathracha. Cac iomlán. IS GÁ dúinn uilig aird a thabhairt ar na canúintí a mhaireann, nó beidh siad caillte go deo. Tá an-ghaois le fáil iontu. Admhaím anois (bhuel, bím i gcónaí á admháil seo, ach pé scéal é) go bhfuil an-chuid le foghlaim den teanga a'm fós, agus níl an meon iomlán Gaelach a'm go fóill mar gheall air sin. Tuigim an scéal anois mar gheall ar mo thaithí leis a' Ghàidhlig -- táim chun canúint Earra-Ghàidheil a fhoghlaim, toisc go bhfuil sí i mbaol agus tá sí fíor-álainn. Yum yum i mo bhéal, na fuaimeanna! D'fhoghlaim mé cúpla nathanna nó frásaí agus mé ag caint le Conallaigh, agus is seodra iad! B'fhéidir go dtarraingeoidh mé cúpla tréithe Ultacha isteach. An féidir leis sin a dhéanamh? Sin plé le haghaidh blaga eile! Bhí mé ag smaoineamh go mbeidh sé go maith aistriú go Gaeilge Thír Chonaill mar gheall ar an nGàidhlig... Ach bheadh an t-idirdhealú idir an dá theanga deacair a dhéanamh i m'intinn, agus tá sé deacair go leor mar atá! Nílim chun mo bhlas a athrú, agus braithim go bhfuilim ró-chompórtach anois le Gaeilge Connachtach chun mo rogha de chanúint a athrú. An bhfuil baol ann go mbeidh mé i mo turncoat Ultach? Beidh le feiceáil...

Latha Naomh Anndra sona!

2011-11-30T21:19:00.001Z

Beannachdan na fèille gam chàirdean an Alba air an latha sònraichte seo!

This is a day of national pride for the Scots, or it should be. It surprises me that St. Andrew's day is not given the proper, official treatment it deserves -- or am I? As a cog in the machine that is the 'United Kingdom' still, how can Scotland claim a day completely for itself, its citizens and its diaspora? A day of national pride is a dangerous thing in a union. However, I would say that on this particular St. Andrew's day, more Scots are thinking of independence, with the notion currently taking such a central position in Scottish political discourse.

I just thought I'd share my thoughts on this auspicious day. As a person of culture, a student devoted to the Gàidhlig language, literature, culture and heritage, and with a growing curiosity in Lallans too, I'm going to stress how important cultural movements are in the freeing of a nation/people. My background in Gaeilge, Yeats and the Irish literary and cultural renaissance reinforces my conviction that Scotland can have her freedom by entering the Uamh an Oir of her culture and facing the monsters of post-colonial hang-ups. For there to be true independence, the national mind and spirit of the people must be set as free as possible from the shackles of colonialism. Of course, this is a very idealistic proposition. Freedom hasn't really happened fully in Ireland yet; we're still enslaved because we haven't dealt with our collective/native unconscious mind; we still repress the Gaelic side to our nature. Gaeilge is one of those creatures disfigured by colonialism that disgusts most people -- they would rather fight her back into the cave and curse her to eternal darkness. The thing is, neglected parts of the self rise up and revolt in nasty ways and come in many guises, sectarianism being one.

I truly believe that a renaissance and promotion of Scottish culture and heritage is needed, and I'm not alone in my conviction. Hugh MacDiarmid for one clung to this belief passionately. The language movement is already beginning; from what I can see, the Scots are doing really well in their efforts for the new promotion and preservation of their languages, culture and heritage -- Tobar an Dualchais is something that comes strongly to mind here. This centenary year of Somhairle MacGill-Eain's birth has proven to be a point of acceleration towards this ideal; wouldn't it be fitting to carry the burning torch of this year's success into the next, lighting the way for future possibilities?

diaspora* :: blow on the dandelion!

2011-11-18T19:45:00.001Z

I subscribed to diaspora* just under a year ago, and was left waiting for an invitation from them to create a profile. They sent out the odd email, expressing their gratitude for my interest in the non-commercial, open source social network, and informing me that they hoped to get an invitation out to me asap. In the end, they didn't send me the invite -- two of my friends who succeeded in acquiring the coveted invitation did. I think this sort of gradual rolling out of invites does more damage than good; surely if a social network is to be successful, it needs to be more widely accessible? In fairness, work on the software for the social networking site only began in May 2010, so this gradual influx of its cyber population can be understood. The site is still in 'alpha testing' form, but for the sake of their success, I would urge a swift promotion of the site.

The diaspora* project was founded by Ilya Zhitomirskiy, Dan Grippi, Max Salzberg and Raphael Sofaer, students at New York University's Courant Institute of Mathematical Sciences. Yep, uber-nerds! Apparently, the lads were inspired to start the project by a speech given by Columbia University law lecturer Eben Moglen, who described centralised social networks as "spying for free". I'm inclined to agree -- my dad has always been wary of Facebook, and it's only in recent years that Facebook has come to show its true colours. Information about its users is actually priceless. Now and again, gullible people share the news on their statuses that Facebook plans to charge us for using the service; why would it enforce a fee, when we're already paying dearly for the service? Max Salzberg is reported as saying "When you give up that data, you’re giving it up forever ... The value they give us is negligible in the scale of what they are doing, and what we are giving up is all of our privacy." How right he is. That is the reason why he and his fellow students came up with diaspora*; to give real freedom back to social networking users, and to protect those users' right to ownership and control of their personal information. The Diaspora Foundation stated back in September 2010, "...our distributed design means no big corporation will ever control Diaspora. Diaspora* will never sell your social life to advertisers, and you won’t have to conform to someone’s arbitrary rules or look over your shoulder before you speak." Sounds good to me!

Even the name of the site is more appealing: diaspora, a scattered or dispersed population. Much more intelligent than Facebook. FACEbook. That name is ominous, suggesting a group of spies and informers in a dark room somewhere rifling through files of people's profiles. Have you seen that Take this Lollipop thing yet? Scared the crap out of me. That freaky man stands for greedy corporations, you know.

diaspora* interface

So far, I can say that the interface of the site is quite close to that of Google+, and slightly like Facebook. Personally, I've been urging my people to abandon Facebook in favour of Google+ or diaspora*, though now I shall be urging more towards diaspora*, as Google want your info too -- they're certainly no angels; they're set on cyber-world domination by the looks of it. Facebook has actually become less user-friendly in terms of navigation in recent times, after their stupid changes to the interface and gradual rollout of the "Timeline". That I don't 'like'. When my friend sent me an invitation for diaspora*, he chose my language as Irish. (Good man!) I noticed this from the random words that appeared in Irish on the diaspora* website. A lot of translation work needs to be done, but all in good time. :) As far as I know, diaspora* are ahead of Google+ in this respect. All I know is that I'd rather translate for free for an open source, non-profit site than for corporation-corrupt Facebook!

You know you're entering non-mainstream territory when you see "stop censorship" slapped on a webpage. Obviously diaspora* are against US proposal for an Censorship Act "against piracy"; what exactly constitutes piracy? Anything that speaks the truth? Any platform that allows true freedom of expression? Any site that undermines corporate power? Diaspora* would undoubtedly be one of their targets. There are some sinister goings on in reaction to diaspora*. Apparently, PayPal froze the Diaspora Foundation funding account in October of this year. The account was unfrozen after much pressure and well-founded threats of legal action, and an apology was given. But no explanation. Dodge City. Apparently Facebook creator Mark Zuckerburg (F*ckerburg, more like!) donated money to the Diaspora Foundation, because "it is a cool idea". I'd mind him, lads!

On joining diaspora* this evening, I find that co-founder Ilya Zhitormirskiy died on the 12th of November at the age of 22. Unreal. No cause of death has been given at this sensitive time, but don't you know, lack of clarification leads to gossip, and quite a few sources are claiming it was suicide. This would be tragic, for someone so young, so intelligent and so bright, with an innovative vision for cyber society. From his track record, he looks like someone full of the urge to live and to change the world.

Despite governments' opinion [glares angrily in the direction of Dáil Éireann in her mind], students are the future, and they create the future. This group of lads have proven this. So if I send you an invite, join diaspora* and become part of the growing movement for true liberation of the web, and true freedom. Alternatively, you can sign up here, and wait patiently to be called upon...

Recent reflection

2011-11-15T22:18:00.001Z

I feel that politics and linguistics have really bullied my spirit for inspiration of late. I feel so strongly about political justice, and yet it doesn’t seem to prompt a creative response in me. I look at Somhairle MacGill-Eain, who wrote fantastic poems of great political conviction and passion, and I feel that my inability to write on the subject is a failing on my part. I would like to take up a ‘bardic’ position, so to speak, in order to give voice to the politically voiceless in this fraud of a democracy. I want to write blistering satires on the perpetrators of political, social and economic injustice. As far as language is concerned, I’m aware that my standard in the minority language that I choose to write creatively in does not satisfy everyone. I feel barbed wire squeezing around my tongue when I attempt an emotional or creative utterance in such a beaten language. I look to the likes of Somhairle for hope, when all I feel is my own failing and lack of inherited tradition in comparison. However, to remain silent is to die. Not only would I have my own death on my hands, but the deaths of ideas, feelings, and the deaths of the languages I choose to write in.

Air thòir Somhairle!

2011-10-28T16:07:00.001+01:00

It's quite frustrating for an Irish person when it comes to celebrating Somhairle MacGill-Eain's centenary birthday. I could only propogate his image and his words online through my Tumblr blog and Twitter, continue reading about Highland history, read some of his poems and have a glass of Scotch in his honour at home. I realise that there was a lecture given on Somhairle with an evening of Gàidhlig poetry and Scottish music as part of the IMRAM festival, but unfortunately I was unable to make it as I had to return to Louth. As a new Somhairle scholar, I feel like I should be at everything to do with the man, and everything to do with Gàidhlig. This, of course, is impossible. I'm only delighted that I could attend Ainmeil thar Cheudan at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig earlier this year, which was all the more fitting with the bona fide Highland backdrop and the Gàidhlig all around me. This is more comfortable (to me) than having Gàidhlig in the context of Gaeilge anyway; the time has come for Gàidhlig to stand in its own right, for the Gàidhlig voice to take precedence in describing itself and its culture, not English and not Gaeilge. (I can't wait for the day when I can write this in Gàidhlig!) Of course, speakers of Gaeilge and speakers of Gàidhlig will always be supportive of one another, and have a special friendship of mutual understanding. They should do, anyway. I would say that it's frustrating for Scottish people to celebrate Somhairle's centenary birthday! I'm only beginning to fully understand how marginalised the Scottish Gael is in Scottish discourse. The people of the Gaeltacht in Ireland may feel marginalised and at odds with the prevalent 'Irish' culture in the rest of the country, but at least they are cherished as keepers of Ireland's (true) culture. I think the people of the Gàidhealtachd still have a long way to go until they can feel like they can shout from the hills and rooftops with pride for the celebration of their artistic voice. It astounds me how many people have never even heard of Somhairle MacGill-Eain (or Sorley MacLean, for that matter...) That said, I took delight in the enthusiasm of those who work with Polygon (and Birlinn), who are based in Edinburgh and are the publisher of Somhairle's new collection of poetic writings. They had tweeted to wish Somhairle a happy birthday, and I tweeted back in Gàidhlig saying how I can't wait for my copy to arrive. They replied "Worth waiting for, it's sublime. All madly in love with Sorley at Polygon Towers!" Aww. :)

I think that I have literally been standing back and gaping in awe at Somhairle since I studied his poetry quite thoroughly during my Masters. I've been reveling in the passion, throwing myself into learning the language and acquiring the knowledge and understanding of the context of Highland history and culture. Whenever I pick up by copy of Dàin do Eimhir or O Choille gu Bearradh, my eyes widen at the richness and complexity of the language, and I feel ashamed that I have to take a glance at the English on the facing page. (Though I am happy that I can recognise when the English translation pales in comparison to the original in terms of meaning!) It is arrogant to think that an Irish speaker can just pick up a book written in Gàidhlig and understand it. You think you're getting the gist, then you realise that there are many 'false friends' and that you actually don't get it! At this stage, I can pick up a book of short stories by Iain Mac a' Ghobhainn and read away happily, understanding nearly every word. But Somhairle - wow. He is a true modern poet, writing about the complicated subject of the human condition in the complexity of poetic language, armed in the richness of the Gàidhlig and tradition that he inherited by birthright. You don't take up a book of Somhairle's poems lightly; you're literally picking up the weight of the human condition and the richness of Gaelic (and European) culture into tentative hands. This was a man who admitted to being an avid reader of history and philosophy, and who came from a long line of tradition-bearers.
I feel that I need to acquaint myself better with the history and culture of the Highlands (hence my current reading) in order for me to be even worthy of reading this poetry, to be worthy of understanding it. (Though poetry isn't there necesarily there to be understood, but I don't think Somhairle was one of those pretentious poets.) I feel like... the true vision shared by Somhairle in his poetry can only be earned by becoming fluent in Gàidhlig and being well-versed in Highland (and European) culture. I am not saying that Somhairle is a provincial poet and that his poetry is relevant only to Gaelic culture - this is simply not true. His aim was to speak from his own corner of the world to the world, and he demonstrates that the experiences of one race can be applied to another's, that we're all in this fight for the good of humanity together. His obsession with the 'lyrical cry' suggests that he was in fact keeping with the role of the bard who speaks on behalf of his people; the lyric as a form historically speaks as the 'Everyman', expressing people's shared experiences of love, grief, and everything in between. He frequently reaches out to and calls to other European nations throughout his poetry. In Dàn XIII of Dàin do Eimhir, Somhairle wishes to intertwine the cultural merits of nations as diverse as Scotland, Ireland, France, Spain, Greece and Norway in order to fashion a Dàn Dìreach for his beloved:

Agus uime sin bu chòir dhomh
'n Dàn Dìreach a chur air dòigh dhut
a ghlacadh mac-meanmna na h-Eòrpa.
Bu chòir nochdadh 'na iomchar
dianas na Spàinne gu h-iomlan,
geur-aigne na Frainge is na Grèige,
ceòl na h-Alban 's na h-Éireann.

Bha còir agam gach uile èifeachd
a thug Lochlann is Éire
is Alba àrsaidh do mo dhaoine
a chur cuideachd an caoine
agus an ìobairt don ioghnadh
tha geal dealbhte an clàr t' aodann.

At the moment, I'm still learning Gàidhlig and reading reading reading. I need to come up with a proposal for my PhD on Somhairle. I still feel like I'm not worthy to be dealing with such a subject at such a level. My passion is what sets me alight and gives me the courage to go after it. The bard himself said that passion is the ingredient needed in order to create true poetry. Somhairle went on the hunt for poems and for his beloved - now I'm on the hunt for him!

Secular morality, 'being good' and harnessing the dark side (basically people should have more sense)

2011-10-24T15:26:00.000+01:00

The actions of my fellow people have hurt me over the past two days, and as a result I am entering hermit mode, forsaking society for the solace of books. But before I go, I just want to share a few jumbled thoughts. Yesterday I watched a film about poachers in Africa slaughtering and mutilating elephants and rhinos for ivory, because a lot of money can be made out of it. Today I hear of a much-beloved young man in Scotland who was tied to a lamp-post, beaten and scorched, possibly as an attack on his sexuality. In recent times, there is a general feeling amongst 'ordinary folk' that the people with positions of power are deliberately selling out their fellow people just so they can keep the wealthy wealthy (which has prompted 'the 99%' to come out and protest against the injustice of 'the 1%'). I am not saying that things are getting worse in our time, because I know that these types of horrors have been a reality forever. What I am suggesting, however, is that things should be getting better.

I recall a conversation with a friend of mine about morality; he studies philosophy and is an atheist, while (as you may know) I identify as a pagan, with a belief in some force that interconnects every living thing. We basically came to the agreement that a 'secular morality' is a higher form of morality, in the sense that a person who does good just for the sake of being good is far more noble than a person who 'does good' because they fear the wrath of a god who watches their every move. You do not need a religion to be moral. The Dalai Lama has suggested that qualities like love and compassion are human values that are independent of religion, and so can be promoted without the basis of a religion. If anything, religious organisations have propagated more hate and intolerence against certain groups throughout history. The manner in which they preach from 'holy texts' is negative, as they express morality (for the most part) in terms of prohibitions. This method merely discourages people from being their very worst, as opposed to encouraging people to be their very best. We're all here at this present moment, and the existence of everything under the sun is dependent on everything else, this is all we know. Though I don't agree with Objectivism, I'll quote Ayn Rand: "existence exists". Why would you want to hurt and exploit your fellow humans, your animal friends and your environment when all it does is cause suffering? We all came from the same basic source, we're inter-related. How could someone take pleasure in torturing and killing? Even people with a god looking over their shoulder do this. Perhaps this belief in 'the next life' has caused humankind to have so little respect for the life we're living now.

Admittedly, the world is governed by opposites, antitheses, so good cannot exist without evil. I think the first thing we should do is acknowledge the dark side that exists in every one of us, for if we repress it, the darkness will manifest itself in an unprecedented and powerfully negative manner. We need to accept that we are not perfect. This is extremely difficult to do, but my interest in Jungian theory has spurred me to keep trying. Sometimes, I feel like a saint (a saint who swears a lot, but however...); I have a great love for everything that lives and exists, and I can often act passively for the benefit of others. An example, which might seem silly to others, is going slightly out of my way to walk around a foraging blackbird so as not to disturb him. If you keep to your path and walk too close, he'll be forced to fly away in fear. (That's just me!) That is not to say that I'm a passive person - definitley not! I just think that there is a certain power to be found in passivity, that it can be actually active. Think of how powerful silence can be. Anyway, I'm not sure how the dark side works once it is understood and accepted. I suppose I use it in a creative way. So does Florence Welch.

I started this out with the intention of expressing deep thoughts and ideas... Now I just don't have the energy.

Siompóisiam ar Bhlagadóireacht na Gaeilge

2011-10-18T19:04:00.000+01:00


© Pól Ó Duibhir, 2011

Bhí an deis agam páirt a ghlacadh sa siompóisiam ar bhlagadóireacht na Gaeilge in City Arts (suite ar Ché an Bhaitsiléara, BÁC) chun tús a chur le IMRAM Féile Litríochta 2011 ar an Aoine seo caite (14ú Deireadh Fómhair). I dtosach, caithfidh mé buíochas ar leith a gabháil le Scott de Buitléir agus Liam Carson as an bpribhléid seo a thabhairt dom.

Ní raibheas ag tnúth le go mbeadh an méid sin daoine i láthair! Amharclann beag is ea í in ionad City Arts, ach bhí teach lán againn, le daoine ag teacht isteach agus ag seasamh ar chúl in aice leis na doirse. Meascán de chuile shórt duine a bhí ann, idir sean agus óg, idir fhir agus mhná, agus bhí sin an-spreagúil. B'fhéidir gur clísé seo, ach bhraith mé go raibh 'an-ghrá' sa seomra! Cé go mbím cúthaileach os comhair slua d'ardchaighdeán Gaeilge, bhíos ar mo shuaimhneas de bhrí na cuideachta tharam; bhí Scott de Buitléir ina fhear an tí, agus tá muid inár gcairde le blianta anois; ar an bpainéil liom, bhí Aonghus Ó hAlmhain, cara liom ar Twitter; Máire Burns, riarthóir an leathanaigh Facebook "Gaeilge Amháin"; agus Alex Hijmans, úrscéalaí den chéad scoth a bhfuil cónaí air sa mBrasaíl. Bhí sé chomh deas liomsa bualadh le hAonghus agus Máire ann, toisc nach raibh ach 'ríomhaithne' againn ar a chéile go nuige sin. (Goidim an focal sin ó Aonghus - is iontach an comhfhocal é!) Sa ngrianghraf thuas (tógtha ó bhlag 'An Cnagaire'), ó chlé go deas tá Alex, mé féin, Máire, Aonghus agus Scott. Cheap muid go raibh sé feiliúnach go raibh Alex inár láthair 'go fíorúil' trí Skype ar an scáileán galánta Mac agus muid ag plé le teicneolaíocht na Gaeilge!

Níor mhair an phlé ach ar feadh uair a chloig, ach in ainneoin sin chlúdaigh muid cuid mhaith den ábhar. Rinneadh tagairt don 'Bhlagtacht', .i. 'blagaisféar' na Gaeilge, nó 'an Chiberghaeltacht', áit a bhfuil an deis ag Gaeilgeoirí ar fud na cruinne an teanga a úsáid go laethúil. Tá blagadóirí eolach ar a chéile, agus bíonn siad ag cur tráchtanna ar a mblaganna nó ag leanacht leis an bplé ar Twitter. Mar sin, téann Gaeilgeoirí in aithne ar a chéile, agus bíonn neart teagmhála agus comhrá ar siúl ar líne. Freisin, tá tionchar ag blagadóirí ar na meáin óir bíonn níos mó muiníne ag daoine i ngnáthdhuine eile, seachas in iriseoirí. Thug Aonghus léirmheasanna ar litríocht na Gaeilge mar shampla - bíonn léitheoirí ag roinnt a dtuairimí ar leabhair nua ar a mblaganna, agus spreagann sin plé ar an litríocht i bhfoirm tráchtanna ar an leathanach blaga nó i bhfóraim eile. Cuireadh an cheist orm faoin gcaidreamh idir an bhlagadóireacht agus an litríocht, agus dúirt mé gur céim eile atá sa mblagadóireacht chun nua-litríocht a chur chun cinn, agus as sin tá seans ann go bhfaighidh scríbhneoirí óga an deis chun a gcuid saothar a chur i gcló. Cé go bhfuil do chuid scríbhneoireachta 'foilsithe' de réir an dlí ar bhlag, d'aontaigh chuile dhuine go bhfuil rud eicínt 'oifigiúil' ag baint le leabhar nó alt i nuachtán. Maím go dtugann an bhlagadóireacht an seans do dhaoine óga muinín a bheith acu ina gcuid scríbhneoireachta féin agus í á roinnt ar líne os comhair pobail fairsinge, áit a bhfuil léitheoirí á léamh agus á spreagadh. Ní hamháin go bhfuil an bhlagadóireacht mar chéim do dhaoine óga lena ngairm scríbhneoireachta, ach tá sí mar bhreisiú don litríocht freisin; tá blag ag Alex Hijmans ag gabháil lena leabhar Favela, le caibidle nua nó ábhair nua a bhaineann leis an leabhar á roinnt air. Tá beatha nua tugtha do leabhair fiú amháin agus iad le fáil i riocht eile ar líne; tá léitheoirí in ann dul i ngleic le leabhar le cuidiú meáin eile. Mar a mhol Aonghus, tá blagadóireacht ag chur litearthacht na Gaeilge chun cinn chomh maith leis an litríocht, agus rinne Alex cur síos ar bhlaganna "mar fhuinneoga ar shiopaí liteartha na Gaeilge."

D'aontaigh muid uilig go bhfuil cumhacht an idirlín ag neartú na Gaeilge agus ag tabhairt gutha do ghnáthmhuintir na Gaeilge. Luaigh Scott an nóisean de 'réaltacht mhéadaithe' (augmented reality), le huirlisí a thugann do dhaoine radharc nó taithí ar an bhfíor-domhan ar bhealach dhíreach (nó indíreach) trí mheán eicínt, cosúil le Skype. Cé nach féidir le Gaeilgeoirí an domhain a bheith i láthair lena chéile in aon áit amháin go fisiciúil, thig dóibh a bheith i dteagmháil lena chéile go láithreach trí chumhacht an idirlín, bíodh sin ar Skype, Twitter, Facebook, agus mar sin de. Mar shampla, níl cónaí orm sa nGaeltacht, ach le cuidiú na Blagtachta nó na Cibearghaeltachta, is féidir liom Gaeilge a úsáid mar theanga laethúil ar líne. Bhí pointe faoi sin ag duine eicínt sa lucht féachana, agus dúirt sé nach gcuidíonn sin leis an teanga labhartha - rith sé liomsa nach mbíonn an deis ag daoine an Ghaeilge a chloisteáil ar líne, ach céard faoi YouTube agus Vimeo? Nach féidir linn físeáin a dhéanamh mar chuid de bhlaganna, rud a bhíonns á dheánamh ag Scott cheana fhéin?

Leis an méid seo, is féidir a rá go bhfuil pobal na Gaeilge an-láidir ar an idirlíon. Cá bhfios, b'fhéidir go bhfuil todhchaí ann don Ghaeilge anois mar gheall ar an idirlíon! Ábhar dóchais atá sa dearcadh sin. I dteannta leis an mBlagtacht agus fóraim chomhrá Gaeilge eile, tá an grúpa Facebook "Gaeilge Amháin" againn, agus mar a dúirt Máire Burns ag an siompóisiam, is é pobal atá sa ngrúpa sin, Ciberghaeltacht ina labhraíonn chuile bhall Gaeilge. Agus GAEILGE AMHÁIN! Tá cosc ar an mBéarla go huile is go hiomlán sa ngrúpa seo, mar is cóir. Tá Máire an-dian leis an riail seo a chur i bhfeidhm, ag cosaint na Gaeilge, a mbeadh faoi bhagairt an Bhéarla i ngrúpaí eile. Déanann sí cur síos ar "Ghaeilge Amháin" mar thearmann don Ghaeilge, agus mar 'fhíorGhaeltacht'. Tá 835 ball ón ngach cearn den domhan sa ngrúpa faoi láthair, agus grúpa beo, bríomhar, idirghníomhach atá ann. Pléitear gach ábhar faoin ngrian, tugtar eolas ar fáil faoi imeachtaí a bhaineann leis an nGaeilge, agus cuirtear filíocht, prós, scéalta ar an mballa. Ní cheartaíonn éinne an Ghaeilge atá in úsáid ag duine eile, mar bíonn daoine ag foghlaim óna chéile, agus téann siad i dtaithí ar an teanga agus iad ag léamh na dea-Gaeilge á scríobh ag cainteoirí d'ardchaighdeán. Maíonn Máire nach cóir go leanfaidh daoine le "Gaeilge bhriste" - agus daoine i bhfochair na Gaeilge, tiocfaidh feabhas ar a scileanna teanga. Is ar ghnáthmhuintir na Gaeilge an teanga a chosaint agus a chaomhnú, agus is furasta sin leis an ngrá atá ag daoine dá dteanga. Bíonn Máire fhéin ag cur ranganna Gaeilge ar siúl trí Skype do dhaoine ar fud na cruinne freisin! Leanann sin leis an bpointe á chur agam thuas.

Ba mhór taithí na hócáide liom, óir bhraith mé mar chuid de phobal na Gaeilge i gceart don chéad uair. B'shin mise, i mo chathair fhéin, i measc Gaeilgeoirí eile ag a bhfuil an fhís chéanna is tá agam don teanga. Ní raibh aon ardnósachas ag baint leis an ócáid; cruinniú poiblí a bhí ann i ndáiríribh. Bhí fuinneamh ar leith sa seomra sin, agus táim ag ceapadh gur bhraith chuile dhuine go raibh an siompóisiam ag chur tús le rud eicínt... Cá bhfios?

Planet Word: Stephen Fry agus ceist na mionteangacha

2011-10-10T18:03:00.000+01:00

Cheapas go roinnfidh mé cúpla smaoineamh ar an darna eipeasóid den tsraith Planet Word, ina dtéann Stephen Fry ar thuras teanga. Bhíos ag tnúth go mór leis an eipeasóid áirithe seo, toisc go raibh sé ag plé le cruachás mhionteangacha an domhain, an Ghaeilge ina measc. Bhreathnaigh mé air faoi dhó; ar an gcéad turas, d'fhág sé le blas searbh mé. Bhraith mé go raibh Mr. Fry ciotach le muintir na Gaeltachta; chuir sé as dom nach ndearna sé a dhícheall an Ghaeilge a fhoghrú i gceart, agus go raibh sé drochbhéasach nuair a bhain sé leas as intriachtaí as Fraincis le cainteoirí Bascaise agus Ocsatáinise (Occitan). Ar an darna turas, bhraith mé níos fearr, ach tá cúpla rud le rá agam faoi.

Anois, tá an-mheas agam do Stephen Fry - go deimhin, tá sé mar eiseamláir dom. Tá sé furasta an locht a chur ar Shasanach agus muid ag plé le hábhar íogair mar mhionlú teangacha. Is léir go bhfuil an cheist seo gar dá chroí, agus tá sé ag déanamh an-jab í a léiriú do lucht féachana coitianta. Sin ráite, measaim gur fiú dó a bhéal a choinneáil dúnta anois is aríst. Uaireantaí, tá cuma ar an scéal go bhfuil sé ag iarraidh a scileanna óráidíochta a chur in iúl seachas a bheith ag tabhairt na deise do na haoichainteoirí ar an gclár labhairt ar a n-ábhar. Labhraíonn sé thar an méid atá á rá acu go minic, agus ba cheart dó a gcuid tuairimí agus smaointí a ligean. Nach í an aidhm atá aige ná guthanna na ndaoine a chur i láthair ionas go mbeidh tuiscint níos cruinne ar cheist na mionteangacha? Is íorónta an rud é go bhfuil sé ag plé le teangacha á gcur i dtost, agus ní thugann sé an seans do na daoine a dtaithí a roinnt!

Is iad na rudaí a chur as dom go mór mór ná nár labhair na hÉireannaigh/Gaeil as Gaeilge, agus nár luadh Gàidhlig na hAlban nó Gaelg Mhanann. Rinne Fry tagairt don Bhreatnais (agus don Choirnis fiú!), ag cur TG4 i gcomparáid leis an méid atá ar siúl ag BBC Cymru. Bhí samplaí maithe tugtha dúinn de bhlas na Bascaise agus na Ocsatáinise, ach níor thug siad dúinn blas ceart den Ghaeilge á labhairt ag cainteoirí dúchais. Tosaíonn Fry lena phlé ar an nGaeilge agus é amuigh ar bhád i gConamara le hiascaire. Bhí cuma chiotach air nuair a fhiafraigh sé den iascaire an raibh sé dóchasach faoi thodhchaí na Gaeilge. Touchy subject a bhí ann, ag teacht ó Shasanach, gan amhras, agus bhí sé comhfhiosach faoi sin. Rinneadh an t-agallamh go hiomlán as Béarla, le seatanna gairide den iascaire agus a mhac ag obair ar an mbád agus ag caint as Gaeilge, ach go han-chiúin agus gan mórán á rá acu. Ceapaim gur chuala mé "just tóg é" i measc a gcuid cainte. Chun a bheith cothrom do Fry, bhí sé an-fheasach ar stair na tíre seo, agus dúirt sé féin "Imperialist Brit that I am, they're kind enough to speak English to me, which, given the history, is quite an ask." B'fheidir go bhfuilim ró-mhíleata uaireantaí i leith na teanga, agus b'fhéidir go mbeadh sé seafóideach duine a bheith ann ag caint as Gaeilge dó, agus duine eile á haistriú go Béarla, ach... Bhraith mé gur cheart do na hÉireannaigh agallamh a dhéanamh trí Ghaeilge, ar mhaitheas sampla a thabhairt don lucht féachana ar an teanga, agus chun é a chur in iúl gur teanga bheo bhríomhar í in áiteachaí áirithe, nó i measc pobail áirithe, ba chóir dom a rá. Bhí díomá orm. Tá taithí agam fhéin lena bheith ag obair ar chlár faisnéise leis an mBBC, agus iarradh orm freagraí a thabhairt sa dá theanga (aríst, chun blas na Gaeilge a thabhairt dá lucht éisteachta).

Ba mhaith an rud é gur ghlac Fry páirt in Ros na Rún, agus chuir sé an clár ar chomhchéim le Coronation Street nuair a ndearna sé cur síos air. Chonacthas dom gur bhain sé taitneamh as a bheith páirteach ann, cinnte. Chuir sé iontas orm, áfach, nár thig d'fhear léinn dá leithéid foghraíocht níos fearr a bheith aige ar an mbeagán Gaeilge a bhí le rá aige! Bhí blas an Oirthir ar a 'go raibh maith a'd'! An bhfuil an locht ar a mhúinteoir? N'fheadar. Ach, cheapas go raibh sé spéisiúil nuair a fhoghraigh sé an focal 'orm' mar 'ar-um' [ar mé].

Is dócha gur iad na hÉireannaigh an t-aon dream lena raibh sé in ann ceisteanna díreacha a chur orthu, gan é a dhéanamh trí aistriúchán. Tá sé ciotach do Shasanach a bheith ag caint le cainteoirí mionteangacha ar mhionteanga trí mhórtheanga, go háirid caint ar an nGaeilge trí Bhéarla! Nuair a bhí sé sa seomra ranga i nGaelscoil áitiúil, chuir sé ceisteanna gairide ar na daltaí faoin leas a bhaineann siad as an nGaeilge i gcomparáid leis an mBéarla. Bhí sé á gcur go cúramach, go triaileach. Ar mheas siad gur cainteoirí Gaeilge iad i dtosach, agus cainteoirí Béarla ina dhiaidh sin? An mbíonn siad ag caint as Gaeilge amuigh sa gclós? An mbíonn siad ag téacsáil as Gaeilge? An mbaineann siad leas as an nGaeilge ar an idirlíon? An mbeadh siad in ann déileáil leis an domhan mór gan Bhéarla acu? An rud is spéisiúla a bhain sé as an agallamh seo ná nach mbíonn Gaeilge á húsáid acu agus teicneolaíocht i gceist. Ní bhíonn siad ag téascáil as Gaeilge, nó a bheith ag caint lena chéile ar Facebook trí Ghaeilge. Shainmhínigh Fry an Ghaeilge mar theanga cairdeas, mar theanga an chlóis scoile, agus an Béarla mar theanga na teicneolaíochta. D'admhaigh na daltaí go mbeadh siad caillte sa domhan mór gan Bhéarla, ach measann siad gur cainteoirí Gaeilge iad i dtosach in ainneoin sin. An rud is náirí faoin eipeasóid ná go ndúirt Fry leo "Thank goodness you do speak English or we'd be having an embarrassing time!" Hmm. An bhfuil sin le rá go mbíonn náire air chuile uair a chuireann sé duine gan Bhéarla faoi agallamh?

Ní chreidim go bhfuilim chomh crua ar Stephen Fry! Is deacair an jab sin, ábhar chomh híogair, chomh conspóideach sin á léiriú.

Bíonn muid ag rá go bhfuil na Sasanaigh go dona, ach an bhfaca sibh na Francaigh? Mo dhuine in l’Académie Française, duine de na 'Immortals', an t-Ollamh Marc Fumaroli? Tá an ghráin dhearg (nó rua! :P) agam ar an bhfear sin!! Ag trácht ar chur faoi chois na hOcsatáinise (agus mionteangacha eile na Fraince), deir sé: "But, you know, what they have lost is not too much and in compensation they have been participated to one of the most wonderful conversations possible, the conversation in Paris, the conversation in the great towns of France. ... In a period when the 'Globish' English is so invading, it is superfluous, I think, to take so much care of these local languages that are not leading anywhere!" Eh, CÉARD?? Tar anseo agus buailfidh mé thú! Grrrr!!

An rud is fearr faoin gclár seo ná go bhfuil Fry ag cur na ceiste seo os comhair agus i mbéal an phobail. Is mithid do chuile dhuine a bheith ag smaoineamh ar an gceist seo, ionas gur féidir linn mionteangacha an domhain a chaomhnú.

Lá Fry i Ros na Rún

Stephen Fry on the Irish Language

Haiku

2011-10-06T17:55:00.000+01:00

Jasmine tea gifted
to me in green summertime
keeps my hands warm now

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2011

Poetry of the self - an avian song

2011-10-06T17:53:00.001+01:00

I’ve been asked what kind of bird I would be if I was of the feathered brethren. As a complicated person, I’m a shape-shifter, and wouldn’t be just one bird…

I can be high & mighty and fierce as a hissy swan, with thunderous wings.
I can be as brutal and exact as a barn owl, tearing prey to shreds without mercy.
I can be as lyrical and shy as a blackbird, fleeing when someone stops to listen.
I can be as mournful as a curlew, knowing my kind is dying away.
I can be as friendly and inquisitive as a robin, and just as scarlet!
I can be as flighty and airy as a wagtail, delighting in nonsensical things.
I can bawl like a peacock, and can be fond of my own plumage.
I can be consumed in my own path like a swallow, having to dodge an obstacle in my path at the last minute.
I can be as pensive as a crow, but need to acquaint myself with that darkness…
I can reforge myself as a phoenix, having been burned, but then so can everyone.

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2011

Approaching 9/11

2011-09-11T23:23:00.000+01:00

On 9/11/11, I find that I don't know what to say. But I feel that I can't let this day go by without offering some of my words. For all the coverage and comment on the attacks and the following trauma, there's a sense of something that has been left unsaid since that terrible day ten years ago. I don't think this feeling has been intentionally left unexpressed; I actually think that the darker side to human nature that was displayed on that day (and during the war that ensued) has struck a deep emotive part of our humanity dumb. 'Modernity' in literary terms is punctuated by the stark realities of war, as the First and Second world wars brought the horrors of the battle-field closer to home. The battle-field can be anywhere now, and attack can come from all directions. It seems that civilians are just as likely to be targeted as the soldier of war. We live in a continual state of fear, whether we're aware of it on a conscious level or not. Modern literature has the trait of being quite explicit, but words are not enough. Modern (and/or post-modern) writers continue to struggle with their craft in dealing with and addressing the issues of humanity in our new context. We haven't developed a healthy coping mechanism to deal with the trauma that humanity had suffered in a relatively short space of time in our history. Images of human destruction have begun to permeate our unconscious minds at such a fast rate and at a collective human level, and the effect is devastating. But it is unspoken. The 'anxiety' of modern life is often spoken of, but it's time that we addressed the causes of our anxiety. It's not enough to cover traumatising events in the media, and to film all sorts of documentaries about the people involved. It certainly helps, as it is a communal experience that transcends continents. But unfortunately it also has a bit of a superficial feel to it. It is remote.

I admitted earlier that I didn't know what to say. I also don't know what exactly needs to be done to tackle our unconscious/subconscious. Everyone has their own way of dealing with trauma. Coming from an artistic approach, I would like to see people use creative methods of channeling their emotions, whether they understand them or not. I believe everyone has the capacity to be creative, and should not be afraid to reach inside themselves and pull whatever it is out of them and transfigure their feelings into some external form. [Sounds artsy fartsy, but I'm only expressing a simple proposition in an artsy fartsy way! :P] I'm not familiar with 9/11 art or writing, for example, but I'm sure it exists and I would like to seek it out and highlight it. I suppose our anxiety is linked to the notion of the individual. We feel alone in our individuality. We took it too far. We're still a community. We're an even bigger community these days! The Arts and Humanities as a discipline are under attack in the academic world. The general consensus is that it is 'not practical'. This highlights how we have begun to react against our own humanity and our own expression. This attitude needs to change now. For centuries, the human experience was commented on in a safe way through story and song. The communal artistic event affected the individual privately. They experienced their own emotions individually, but with the comfort of being surrounded by their fellow men and women. This sort of experience has diminished greatly; I think it's time for a revival. Instead of looking up to leaders (political, religious, or whatever), we should look both inwards and at each other to help us get over the trauma of the dark hours in our history. Art in its many forms is one safe approach for us to take in dealing with dark and hidden aspects of ourselves both individually and as a community.

Fire in Termonfeckin!

2011-09-09T23:24:00.000+01:00

Having returned home from a delectable dinner out, myself and the parents settled in for a quiet Friday night in front of Only Fools and Horses. Though my chicken fajitas were a explosion of flavour, my tongue was now beginning to feel like sandpaper; as I went out to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, my phone began to ring. This was around 21:50, so I wasn't expecting to hear from anyone. It was our neighbour, who had been awoken by flashing blue lights and the frantics of a fireman using some of our estate's water. I ran upstairs, to find flame-lit smoke billowing from behind the houses facing us, and reflections of flames leaping in the window of our neighbours across from us. The fire appears to be still fiesty as I type.

Being the inquisitive person that I am, I decided to go out and investigate, putting on a jumper and grabbing a camera as I went. I heard the excited voices of young f'llas as I approached the scene, and beheld a gang on them sitting on a wall and taking it all in. The fire brigade were parked at the side of the road, with one of the fire officers guiding any approaching cars around the engine with a beacon. I crossed over the road to get a closer look, and took a few shots. I got talking to a man who lives around the corner, out with his two sons to see what was happening. According to him, the fire had been much higher. He had been putting the lads to bed, when he looked out the window and saw the flames. Apparently, the fire brigade had taken an hour to get here, and had come from Dunleer, which is 14km and around 20 minutes away from us here... Hmm, not impressed. We do have a fire brigade in Drogheda, which is much closer... No sign of the Gardaí.

The fire is in the bushes and trees to the back of our estate, beside the old farm house that was on Duffs Farm, part of which our estate was built on.

This is obviously the result of 'divilment', someone or a group who have nothing else to do and decided to make some fun for themselves. (There's not much for young people to do around the village, but that's no excuse.) Nevermind the danger caused to other people living nearby, the damage to the environment and putting out the emergency services who should be free in the case of an accidental, possibly residential fire. Either Oíche Shamhna has come early, or someone decided to bring the London riots to Termonfeckin. (In a really lame way...) Let's just hope this doesn't become the trend for Friday nights in the dark months...

Lisa Hannigan :: Knots

2011-09-06T14:36:00.000+01:00

'Knots' le feiceáil anois ar chainéal de chuig Lisa Hannigan ar You Tube

Amhrán is déanaí le Lisa Hannigan óna halbam nua Passenger a bheas á eisiúint i Meiriceá Thuaidh ar an 20ú Meán Fómhair, agus in Éirinn ar an 21ú lá de Dheireadh Fómhair. (Caithfidh mé a admháil gur chuir sin as dom, go raibh sé ag teacht amach i Meiriceá i dtosach, ach tá ag éirí go maith léi i Meiriceá i gcomparáid le hÉirinn, de réir cosúlachta!)

Tá blas Meiriceánach tar éis teacht ar a cuid ceoil, ceart go leor, mar is léir leis an amhrán ‘gormacha’ seo. An bhfuilim liom fhéin nuair a mheasaim go bhfuil tionchar Nick Drake le blas san amhrán seo?

Scannánaíodh an físeán seo ar bhád, a chuireann in iúl go bhfuil Lisa ag leanacht le híomhá leitheadúil na farraige a bhí ar a halbam Sea Sew.

Tá stíl na mná aoibhne seo ag dul ó neart go neart - agus cúis bhróid dom a rá go bhfuil gúna agam cosúil lena ceann sa bhfíseán seo. :P

An fhírinne faoi mo leaba

2011-08-22T23:21:00.000+01:00

I wept when I opened my Yeats box, and found Somhairle MacGill-Eain there. The first thing that struck me was the Gàidhlig: Chan eil anns a' bhròn...

I had been looking for a notebook of mine that I had used while doing some research on Yeats' rituals for his Castle of Heroes in the National Library of Ireland (while I was still in the first year of my undergrad), because I remember him using Irish words as he felt that they had more power. I rifled through my box of Yeatsian accumulations, and was delighted to find photocopies of essays on bards composing poetry in the dark, and then Somhairle. I was taken aback because I was shocked to have come across Somhairle already put in relation to Yeats, and at such an early stage. I wondered how it had gotten into the box. Then I found an email just after it in the pile of papers, which was around February 2009. And it hit me: my first encounter with Somhairle and Gàidhlig was just after the death of a mentor. The strange sense of fate and unseen messengers who led me to open this box at such a tense time in my life came over me, and I burst into tears. This trigger was badly needed.

I've been feeling so lost, with not having a job and not being sure about my next academic pursuit, my PhD. Without giving too much away, if I'm to do my PhD where I want to, I will have to do it through English. While there is a strong enough Irish-language department in the school, I doubt that there is a Scottish Gaelic body. The loves of my life are Yeats, Somhairle, Gaeilge, Gàidhlig and, obviously, poetry. This box of academic accumulations, which I began in 2006, contained the answer to my recent bewildered questions. The younger me had more sense, though I didn't realise it at the time. I laugh when I think of people saying that the answer is usually under your nose - my answer was under the head of my bed! If I had any doubts, they've been chased away by the shades of these two men.

I've been getting myself into a knot over the Irish language, creating problems in my own head out of my own insecurities. Love and passion are the only things of importance in living. Both Yeats and Somhairle would agree with this, and confirm the fact in their poetry. I've been too distracted by nonsense. Whatever happens with the PhD, I'm going to start my research, keep building up my Gaeilge and continue learning Gàidhlig. No longer will I worry about anyone else; this Pan-Celtic woman (as someone recently called me) is going to keep her head down and do her own bit.

Díreach chun a bheith soiléir... (Rant)

2011-08-22T00:47:00.000+01:00

Tá sé deacair go leor gur cainteoir mionteanga mé, ach caithfidh mé a rá go bhfuil sé níos deacra dom aríst nuair atáim go síoraí do mo chosaint fhéin roimh chainteoirí Gaeilge eile. Fuckaigí off agus fág liom fhéin mé!

Ní raibh an t-ádh orm a bheith tógtha leis an nGaeilge mórthimpeall orm
Ní raibh an deis agam freastal ar Ghaelscoil mar gheall air sin
Nílim mar chuid de clique ar bith, rud atá chomh coitianta sin i saol na Gaeilge
Níor fhreastal mé ar chúrsa Gaeltachta agus mé ar scoil
Níl mórán deise agam an Ghaeilge a labhairt, seachas le mo chairde ag a bhfuil Gaeilge acu

(Ó bú hú, ceart go leor. Nílim ag gearán, ach díreach ag cur in iúl céard as a dtáinig mé agus cé chomh fada is a tháinig mé go nuige seo. Bhí orm AN-CHUID OIBRE a chur isteach chun a bheith ag an bpointe seo.) ANOIS:

Bhí an t-ádh orm múinteoirí spreagúla Gaeilge a bheith agam ar meánscoil
Le fáth eicínt bhí mo chroí istigh sa nGaeilge i gcónaí, cé nach raibh líofacht agam
Chuir mé an-chuid oibre isteach agus d'fhoghlaim mé an Ghaeilge (i gceart) as mo stuaim fhéin nuair a shroich mé UCD
Bainim leas aisti agus mé le mo chairde, ag scríobh, nuair a chasaim ar Ghaeilgeoirí fánacha cairdiúla, agus ag na hamantaí sin a bhfuilim ag teagasc
Cé nach bhfuil canúint nó 'blas' ar leith agam (mar gheall ar easpa taithí sa nGaeltacht), déanaim mo dhícheall Gaeilge Chonamara a labhairt, measctha le mo bhlas Bleá Cliathach féin

Beidh orm a thuilleadh oibre a dhéanamh chun líofacht líofa (tuigeann sibh mé!) a bhaint amach. Beidh mé ag foghlaim na teanga don lá sin a bhfaighidh mé bás. (Go raibh blianta fada amach romham!) TÁ gramadach na teanga agus saibhreas/cruinneas teanga tábhachtach dom. Tá ard-mheas agam do na nathanna nádúrtha Gaelaigh, don Ghaeilge atá caite anois agus do na rudaí atá ag titim as an teanga, óir go ndearna mé an tSean-Ghaeilge agus an Ghaeilge Chlasaiceach. Is annamh go leor go mbainim leas as focla spraíúla mar 'dáiríously' agus 'dochreideable' (tug faoi deara go leanann siad leis an gcóras litrithe, 'caol le caol, leathan le leathan'!) Níl ach spraoi atá iontu - agus níl siad in úsáid ag Gaeilgeoirí lasmuigh den Ghaeltacht amháin.

NÍLIM in aghaidh mhuintir na Gaeltachta. Nílim in aghaidh Ghaeilge na Gaeltachta. (Duh!) Bím don Ghaeilge Bhleá Cliath a chosaint óir gur Bleá Cliathach mise agus braithim go bhfuil an Ghaeilge atá againn 'bailí' agus 'fíor' freisin. Bím ag maíomh go gcaithfí an t-ardnósachas agus an coimeádachas atá ann faoi láthair a scriosadh, chun misneach a thabhairt d' fhoghlaimeoirí nua atá ag teacht aníos. Ba chóir go mbeadh daoine comportach leo féin agus leis an mblas atá acu agus iad ag foghlaim na Gaeilge. Molaim foghraíocht cheart a bheith acu, ar ndóigh, ach lena mblas féin más fearr leo. Tá difear idir blas agus foghraíocht. Agus más as Bleá Cliath tú, ní bheifeá comportach le blas bréagach Connachta/Mumhan/Uladh a úsáid.

Táim bréan de Ghaeilgeoirí a bheith ag troid lena chéile. Táim bréan de Ghaeilgeoirí 'lán díobh fhéin' a bheith ag caitheamh anuas ar fhoghlaimeoirí. Táim bréan den ardnósachas a bhaineann leis an nGaeilge. Táim bréan de na cliques. Táim bréan den taobh polaitiúil atá ag déanamh dochair don teanga. Táim bréan den taobh frith-Bhéarla atá ann. Táim bréan de a bheith ag caint ar an nGaeilge! Táim bréan den delusion.

Táim chun dul i ngleic le cúrsaí mar atá, óir go gceapaim gur mithid dom guth a thabhairt don dream nach bhfuil áit faoi leith acu ar 'shuíomh' na Gaeilge, agus a mbraitheann nach mar chuid den 'dream istigh' iad.

Má tá Gaeilge agat (bíodh tú líofa go leor nó ag foghlaim fós) agus má tá an spéis agat sa teanga agus sa gcultúr, ba chóir go mbeadh fáilte curtha romhat, agus go mbeadh tú comportach i láthair Ghaeilgeoirí eile, is cuma cé as atá siad.

Dhá dhream atá scoilte ag an teanga chéanna

2011-08-16T16:22:00.005+01:00

Táim ag scríobh an bhlag seo th'éis dom dá halt a léamh i nGaelscéal, an buncheann ag Colm Ó Broin agus freagra scríofa ag cara maith liom, Scott de Buitléir. Tá siad beirt ag plé le ceist na hathbheochana Gaeilge, agus an fhadhb atá againn leis na canúintí agus le foghraíocht na teanga. Seo fearann contúirteach, agus conspóideach! Nílim ach chun cúpla smaoineamh agus mo thuairimí fhéin a roinnt ar an ábhar seo.

Ní dóigh liom go mbeidh an Ghaeilge ina príomhtheanga sa tír seo go deo, ar an drochuair. Caithfidh muid a bheith réalaíoch faoin bhfiric sin. Sin ráite, tá seans ann go mbeidh sí ina mionteanga bheo bhríomhar, agus ceapaim go bhfuil sin le feiceáil anois, ar bhealaí. Beidh orainn a thuilleadh iarrachtaí a dhéanamh chun í a chur chun cinn i gceart, agus buailfidh muid le constaicí gan amhras (.i. mar gheall ar an gcúlú eacnamaíochta seo, le Gaeilgeoirí ag dul ar imirce agus rialtas gan spéis sa teanga nach bhfuil chun airgead a thabhairt don chúis.)

An rud a chuireann faitíos go mór mór orm ná an deighilt seo atá rí-shoiléir i measc lucht na Gaeilge. Is cuimhin liom ráiteas ag Yeats faoi Éirinn, rud eicínt mar "an tír chomh beag sin, ach an iomarca fuatha inti"! Tá an ceart aige! Is mionphobal é pobal na Gaeilge, agus ba chóir go mbeidh muid aontaithe agus ag réiteach lena chéile! Ach níl sin mar atá, faraor. Braithimse i mo shaol é, caithfidh mé a admháil, sa méid is nach mbím ar mo chompord i measc mhuintir na Gaeltachta. (Tá sé go dona a rá, ach táim níos compordaí agus mé ag caint le Gaeilgeoirí Meiriceánacha!) Bíonn faitíos orm go ndéanfaidh mé botún, agus nach mbeidh mé in ann duine Gaeltachta a thuiscint. Bíonn faitíos orm a bheith sa nGaeltacht, óir nach cuid den phobal mé. Is outsider mé. Ar an ollscoil, cuireadh béim ar theanga, stair agus chultúr saibhir na Gaeltachta. Agus cuireann sin an-bhrú ar an nGaeilgeoir uirbeach, agus tugann sé coimpléasc dó a chuireann isteach ar a chumas teanga. Tá an grá céanna (nó b'fheidir níos mó, i gcásanna áirithe!) ag lucht Ghaeilge na gcathracha don teanga agus don chultúr, ach beidh muid lasmuigh den scéal go deo. Beidh muid íochtarach ó thaobh na Gaeilge dhe go choíche. Tá muid chomh éagsúil óna chéile. Is pobal réasúnta dúnta í an Ghaeltacht, óir go bhfuil siad ar a gcosaint fhéin, is cosúil. Táimse in ann sin a thuiscint, gan amhras. Tá siad chomh iargúlta sin, agus is cuma leis an rialtas atá suite i mBleá Cliath. Is coimeádaithe an traidisiúin iad muintir na Gaeltachta, agus tá cuid againn sna cathracha ag iarraidh ár gcultúr a fháil ar ais dúinn fhéin. Feictear dom, áfach, nach bhfuil an Ghaeltacht réidh leis an eolas rúndiamhair seo a roinnt linn. Ach nach Éireannaigh muidne freisin? Nach Gaeil muid freisin, óir go bhfuil an teanga againn? Ach an bhfuil? Agus an bhfuil an teanga againn i ndáiríre, fiú?? Is fuath liom an pholaitíocht a bhaineann leis an teanga! Actually, tá faitíos orm leis seo a rá, ach feictear dom go bhfuil lucht na Gaeltachta níos oscailte roimh dhaoine ó thíortha eile ag teacht isteach chun an teanga a fhoghlaim. Ní dóigh liom gur rud Gaelach sin, ach rud Éireannach sa méid is nach mbaineann sé leis an nGaeilge amháin...

Is Gaeilgeoir Bhleá Cliathach mé, agus tá difear idir an cur amach atá agam ar an teanga ná mar a bheadh ag duine as an nGaeltacht. Dá bhrí sin, ní bheidh an teanga céanna againn. I dtosach, d'fhoghlaim mé an teanga, níl sí agam ó dhúchas, agus ní labhraíonn éinne de mo mhuintir í. Bhí múinteoirí scoile agam as Ciarraí, ach roghnaigh mé Gaeilge Chonamara nuair a shroich mé an ollscoil óir go raibh mo dhaideo as Gaillimh. Mar sin, tá mo chuid foghraíochta measca; caithfidh mé a bheith comhfhiosach leis an mbealach a fhoghraím mo chuid focla. Agus tú i mbun comhrá nádúrtha, áfach, imíonn sin as an bhfuinneog! Tá tú ag triail lena bheith liofa, chun tú fhéin a chur in iúl. Freisin, nílim chun mo réimse focla a leathnú de réir na canúna atá roghnaithe agam - bainim leas as an bhfrás "go hainnis" nuair a bhíonn rud eicínt really go dona. Thaitníonn an fhuaim liom chun an bhrí a chur in iúl! Go hainnis! Táimse fós ag iarraidh an chanúint Chonnachta a bheith agam, ach le mo bhlas Bhleá Cliathach fhéin a choimeád - nílim chun a bheith 'bréag' dom fhéin, sin m' fhéiniúlacht. Éiríonn rudaí níos casta fós: táim i mo chónaí i gcontae Lú anois, agus tá nasc anseo le Gaeilge Uladh. Freisin, óir go bhfuilim ag foghlaim na Gàidhlige, tháinig an smaoineamh chugam gur chóir dom aistriú go Gaeilge Uladh. Ach táim ag leanacht le Gaeilge Chonnachta mar gheall ar mo dhaideo. Sin mo stair pearsanta.

Is foghlaimeoir mé. Beidh mé i m' fhoghlaimeoir go deo, ach chun an fhírinne a rá, nach bhfuilimid uilig inár bhfoghlaimeoirí nuair atá mionteanga i gceist? Ní bhíonn an réimse teanga chomh leathan sin ag cainteoirí mionteangacha, is cuma cén sórt duine nó cé as tú. Tá stór focal éagsúil againn atá ag brath ar na spéiseanna atá againn. Mar shampla, tá ainmneacha na n-éanacha ar eolas agam, agus níl siad ag cúpla daoine ar a bhfuil aithne agam, ollaimh ollscoile ina measc. Agus ní drochrud sin; níl tuairim dá laghad agam maidir le spórt as Gaeilge, óir nach bhfuil spéis agam ann! Is cuimhin liom nuair a chuaigh mé chuig an nGaeltacht don chéad uair, i gCorca Dhuibhne, agus chuir muid mearbhall ar bhean an tí nuair a d'iarr muid uirthi cá háit a raibh an cuisneoir. "Cuis-neoir? Cad é sin?" adúirt sí, agus nuair a mhínigh muid é di, dúirt sí "Ó! An fridge!"

Okay, chun díriú anois ar an teanga, ar na canúintí agus ar an bhfoghraíocht. Táim chun Gaeilge Bhleá Cliath a chosaint anseo (ar ndóigh!). I dtosach, aontaím le Scott nuair a deir sé gur rud nádúrtha é go bhfuil canúintí éagsúla Béarla ann i mBÁC, agus go gciallaíonn seo go mbeadh canúintí éagsúla Gaeilge ann freisin. Is cathair iltíreach í BÁC, agus tá meascán de chuile rud ann. Tá Bleá Cliathaigh dúchasacha ann, tá daoine ann as an tuaithe, tá daoine ann as tíortha eile. Chuile dhuine uilig measctha lena chéile. Mar sin, tá blasanna, nósanna cainte agus teangacha de chuile shórt ann. Agus cruthaíonn sin rud nua, comhtháthú de shórt eicínt. Mar a dúirt mé cheana, beidh an Ghaeilge in ann maireachtáil sna cathracha óir go bhfuil siad i lár na nua-aoise. Tá an Ghaeilge ag athrú sna cathracha, tá sí in úsáid ag daoine ar bhealaí éagsúla. Ní mór do Gaeilgeoirí an t-alt ag teangeolaí Brian Ó Broin, 'Schism fears for Gaeilgeoirí', a léamh. Deir sé

The language is being spoken in all corners of the country (and abroad), and while it might be changing radically, particularly in this current generation, there is no evidence of it dying out. ...we can only wait to see what sort of Irish the next generation of urban speakers will have. Will the urban variety become its on dialect of Irish, or grow further apart from its Gaeltacht cousin, becoming a creole or new language?

Nach fianaise mhaith í seo, go bhfuil an Ghaeilge ag athrú? Nach gciallaíonn sin gur teanga bheo bhríomhair í an Ghaeilge? Athraíonn teangacha an t-am ar fad, agus is rud nádúrtha sin. Tá an Ghaeilge á cur in oiriúint don shaol nua-aimsire seo, agus is comhartha seo de theanga shlán. Le gairid, tháinig mé ar fhocla ar hibrid nó cros-síolach atá iontu: dáiríríously?! agus dochreideable! Fuaireas an chéad ceann ó craoltóir Bhleá Cliathach, agus an darna cheann ó chailín Gaeltachta i Rann na Feirste (mar fhreagairt don leas a bhain mé as an bhfocal dáiríríously ar Twitter). Chuala mé céard-ever freisin agus mé sa gcéad bhliain de mo bhunchéim! Píosa spraoi atá sna focla seo nuair a cruthaíodh iad, ach cuireann siad in iúl go bhfuil daoine ag éirí níos compordaí leis an bhfiric go bhfuil an Ghaeilge agus an Béarla taobh le taobh lena chéile sa tír seo agus go bhfuil sé nádúrtha go mbeadh siad sórt 'ag labhairt lena chéile'. Ní hamháin go raibh, go bhfuil agus go mbeidh focla Béarla ag teacht isteach sa nGaeilge, ach chonacthas gur chruthaigh tionchar na Gaeilge leagan nua den Bhéarla (.i. Béarla Éireannach) ó thaobh comhréire, foghraíochta agus nathanna de. Tá focla 'ar iasacht' ón nGaeilge agus ón nGàidhlig le feiceáil sa mBéarla (breathnaigh ar an leathanach seo de chuid Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, thar a bheith spéisiúil!) Nuair a léigh mé na freagraí don alt sin faoi Americanisms ab fhuath le daoine, chonaic mise tionchar na Gaeilge ar Bhéarla Meiriceánach.

Tá muid uilig ar an domhan seo le chéile, ag roinnt ár gcultúir lena chéile chun comhtháthaithe a chruthú agus ciníochas agus seicteachas a scriosadh. Ceart go leor, tá teangacha ag fáil báis chuile lá, agus tá sé scanrúil go bhfuil sin ag tarlú. Ach níl an Ghaeilge ag fáil báis - go fóill. An fhadhb is mó atá againn ná go bhfuil daoine de lucht na Gaeilge ró dáiríre agus ró choimeádach. Dúirt mé seo cheana fhéin - beidh an dán céanna ag an nGaeilge 's a bhí ag an Laidin mura bhfuil muid cúramach. Caithfear na srianta atá curtha ar an nGaeilge ag na híonaithe a scriosadh. Is mithid dúinn teacht chun cinn na teanga a scaoileadh agus saoirse a thabhairt di ionas go mbeadh sí ina teanga bheo. (Ní hé sin le rá go scriosfar struchtúr na teanga nó go n-éireoidh muid leisciúil faoin ngramadach, ach díreach na hathruithe teanga a ligean isteach.) Is cuid den phobal í an teanga, agus cuirfear sí in oiriúint don phobal dá húsáid. Athbheochan atá i gceist againn, nó athbhreith - ciallaíonn sin go mbeidh tréithe nua ag teacht isteach sa teanga, a chabhróidh léi maireachtáil sa gcomhthéacs nua-aimsire. Mac leinn na Gaeilge Clasaicí agus na Sean-Gaeilge ag caint anseo! Is aoibhinn liom na sean-fhoirmeacha de focla agus an sean-chóras gramadaí, ach athraíonn teangacha le riachtanais an phobail dá n-úsáid. Ná bígí piúratánach, tugaigí saoirse don Ghaeilge agus sábhálfaidh sí í fhéin!

***Nuashonrú***

Chaill mé amach ar alt eile ag plé leis an díospóireacht seo i nGaelscéal, le Aonghus Ó hAlmhain. Is fiú é a léamh. 18/8

Translations

2011-08-12T16:42:00.001+01:00

The Yeats Summer School was as inspiring as ever this year, not least because I took part in my first poetry workshop with Peter McDonald. The first step into the workshop was to send some of my poems to Peter via the Yeats Society in Sligo, and I was faced with the dilemma of providing translations for my poems written originally as Gaeilge. I decided not to think too much about it or I'd drive myself mad, so I read and translated my poems fairly swiftly and sent them off. The poems in question are 'Caoimhín Naofa agus an Chéirseach' and 'Béaldath'.

I wasn't sure how we would approach the reading of my poems in an English-language medium workshop, but as Peter is well-acquainted with the question of translation himself, there was little discomfort! I read the poems in Irish, and he read the translations in English. It must be said that Peter read them in such a way as to make them sound pretty amazing! 'Caoimhín Naofa agus an Chéirseach' didn't present us with any trouble in its English guise, though the words céirseach, glinn, lomán ('hen blackbird', silvery-noted [of voice], 'bare, stripped branch') to me lost their singular strength when they required more than one word to be translated. (Also the double-meaning of the word comaoin, but I didn't go into that at the time.) This doesn't seem to have been a problem in Peter's or anyone else's eyes. However, we did come across a puzzle in 'Béaldath'. Firstly with reference to 'youth' in the phrase 'teas na n-óg', which I had translated at the time as 'the heat of youth' (when really it's 'the heat of the young'). 'Youth' as a concept in English has different connotations, of which I'm not sure that I'm aware. [Ooh, clásal coibhneasta deas as Béarla ansin!] In Irish, I think the connotations of Tír na nÓg will always come to mind when you hear the genitive na n-óg! Or maybe that's just me? I like it, anyway. The real sticky issue we encountered was with the word smál, in the line 'ach d'fhág tú smál orm'. I had translated this as 'but you left a stain on me', with a note under the poem explaining the connotation of 'sin' in the Gaeilge, i.e. Muire gan Smál. Peter informed us that Mary was referred to as 'Mary without Spot' in Medieval English texts. (This I didn't know, even though I studied Medieval English.) 'Stain' as a word just didn't seem to work though, and this was our dilemma. I had to go away and think about it. I looked up a thesaurus for the word 'stain' - 'mark', 'blemish', 'blotch', 'spot', 'smear', 'soil', 'smudge'. Hmm, we already had 'smear'. 'Mark'? I'm still uncertain. But out of them all, 'mark' is the best of a bad lot. The complexity of the Irish word can't work in English. What to do??

Anyway, the bilingualism of my contribution to the workshop made for interesting debate. When asked why I found it so difficult to see my poems translated, I said that I was sick of seeing the Irish and Scottish Gaelic languages undermined by English translations accompanying them. To me (and to others), it suggests that the minority language can't stand on its own, that it can't be justified to be published on its own merit. I insisted that it wasn't a political thing, but it's a politico-linguistic thing, I suppose. Biddy Jenkinson came up as an example, of course. Joan McBreen said that Biddy refused to provide an English translation to one of her poems in an anthology that Joan was compiling, but agreed to provide one in French. When I heard this, I realised how silly it all is, really. French is a major language just like English, so it's the English the Biddy has the problem with, which is political. I'm not interested in that. I opened up when Peter put it something like this: you're killing the language by cutting it off from other languages, which are other life-sources. One poem in one language is a river flowing into the sea. It has been seen by some friends and colleagues of mine in Irish-language academia that this cutting off of Irish from other language cultures is doing the Irish-language studies more damage than good. To give the Irish and Scottish Gaelic languages a voice in modern literature, perhaps we need to be realistic and grow up. We all know the translations are not the same, but they offer a window in to the culture. Also, more readers may seek to learn the language if they can relate to the sentiment found in its translation. (For example, I'd like to learn German, so I can appreciate Goethe more.)

Speaking of German, I was very grateful to be directed to Paul Celan amidst our discussion, whose parents died in labour camps during WW2. His use of German in his writing has been seen as an attempt to break the language, or remake it. He said "There is nothing in the world for which a poet will give up writing, not even when he is a Jew and the language of his poems is German." Wow.

Then there's the question of whether to use cúpla focal in an English-language poem. Why not? People put in French words all the time. Yeats started it, in a way - he was the one who brought in the Irish placenames into modern poetry. If you want to be political, you could say that the Irish words have a chance to invade the English!

As Peter put it, creating a poem in one language and then translating it is 'a labour of birth and a labour of grief.' I like this analogy. It reminds me of the Mór Ríon, goddess of fertility and death. Bilingual Irish existence is a reality. Ireland will never again be lán-Ghaeilge, alas. So our language has to make friends, and stop alienating herself. This realisation has made it easier for me to be an Irish writer, and I'm sure it will make my writing more interesting too.

The Bard, the Misty Island, and the Gàidhlig

2011-07-14T13:31:00.008+01:00

Somhairle MacGill-Eain, © Cailean MacIll-Eain

I couldn't miss out on this, with me being one of Somhairle MacGill-Eain's biggest fans. The conference Ainmeil Thar Cheudan (translated as "famous through the centuries"), organised by the Gaelic college Sabhal Mòr Ostaig and the University of the West of Scotland, was a centenary celebration of the bard's birth in 1911, fittingly set against the backdrop of Eilean a' Cheò, an t-Eilean Sgitheanach (the Isle of Skye). The centenary comes at an apt time in the world of Gàidhlig and Gaelic studies, as this seems to be a crucial time to work for and set an agenda for the Scottish Gaelic language and culture, as we are trying to do currently in Ireland for Gaeilge. There seems to be a rising spirit amongst the Scots for the promotion and preservation of Gaelic culture, and this was apparent to me through the course of the conference. This was no doubt spurred also by the recent overwhelming success of the SNP in the elections, arousing a sense of national pride in the Scots.

To put this fervent spirit into a broader context, only recently BBC Alba was made available on Freeview in the UK, and I was able to catch some of it when I stayed with my relatives in Glasgow after the conference. At the start of the year, there was a campaign to get the Gaelic band from Leòdhas (Lewis), Mànran, to the top of the charts on iTunes with their catchy song in Gàidhlig, 'Làtha Math' ('A Good Day'). Mozilla Firefox and its email client Thunderbird is now available in Gàidhlig, as is Open Office. Linguist Michael Bauer has contributed to these translations of modern technology, while also working on the Gàidhlig online dictionaries Dwelly-d and Am Faclair Beag. He has created a very useful web page, Akerbeltz, and recently published a book, Blas na Gàidhlig, to aid learners and Gàidhlig speakers alike with a guide to finely-tuned pronunciation of the language and explanations of grammar. (Might I also add that he has an unusual knack for making these subjects very approachable for everyone!) There is a definite push for Gaelic Medium Education, and Bòrd na Gàidhlig is offering funding for the training of Gaelic teachers. These efforts seem to be gathering momentum this year, and I wonder if this is more than a coincidence; perhaps the guiding spirit of Somhairle is still in our midst.

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig

The conference took place on 15-17th of June on the distinctive campus of Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, with its nautical white towers and huge windows that offer an unrivaled view out to the sea and the mainland mountains. At this time of year swallows reel about these towers, as do the numerous local gulls. Very dramatic and very poetic. And luckily, we had the good weather! The journey for me was an epic one, rising at 4am to get my flight to Glasgow, remaining here until I could embark on the scenic train journey north-westwards, that takes five and a half hours. Then the Caledonian ferry from Mallaig to Armadale on Skye. A true Hogwarts-bound journey indeed. Despite my early rise, the first evening offered too much distaction that was better than caffeine. Firstly, I was graced with the company of Prof. Alan Titley of University College Cork (UCC), an actual legend, who kept me laughing with his sharp wit and introduced me to the liquid of the gods that is Laphroaig whisky. Secondly, there was an oidhche bhàrdachd is chiùil (a night of poetry and music) in the Talla Mòr, with poetry readings from the distinguished and impressive Aonghas Dubh MacNeacail and Meg Bateman, the piping and singing (together!) of Allan MacDonald, new musical arrangements of Somhairle's poetry by musicologist John Purser and Màiri Anna NicUalraig, and a wee session from students of the National Centre for Excellence in Music. There was a true sense that Gaelic culture is alive and well, with conversations combining Gaeilge and Gàidhlig in my circle, excellent whisky and impromtu piping from a whole gang of youngf'llas showing off to the youngwans. Above all of this was a magical moon, and I later found out that there had been an eclipse that night!

I had a bit of a sore head the following morning (unfortunate for the first day of lectures), but this was swiftly eased by the lectures of Alan Titley and Peter MacKay. Alan spoke stirringly on Somhairle and the 'Imagination of Excess', appealing for the appreciation of his poetry through sound, image and his revitalising use of the Gaelic language. He put Somhairle into context with comparison to the Gaelic tradition that came before him, in song and poetry. He insisted that imagination is not just some ghostly presence that hovers around us, but it is fed by writers past, reading and everything around you. Alan stood up for poetry and creative writing for its own sake, as opposed for tearing it apart for criticism, observing that "deductionism is reductionism." On 'Coilltean Ratharsair', he said "I just want to walk through it [the woods], not understand it." Peter MacKay's lecture ('Coilltean Ratharsair: Temptation in the woods') really struck me as it entered the realm of mythology that was so close to conversations I had the previous night. The White Goddess by Robert Graves had come up in talk, and here he was referring to more goddess myths! Peter drew our attention to the similar setting in 'Coilltean Ratharsair' to that of the Diana/Artemis myth, and Somhairle's reference to three goddesses, Actaeon and dogs. In the myth, Diana is bathing naked in a stream, and the huntsman Actaeon comes across her, and watches her, captivated by her beauty. When Diana sees him, she fears that he will boast about what he has seen, and she immediately turns him into a stag, which his own 50 hounds then hunt and tear him apart. The poem depicts a fall from grace rather than from paradise. Let's remember that Somhairle set his own poem-hounds after the deer that was his love so that he could hunt for his expression; here, the object of love has turned his own dogs on him, and has damned him to eternal silence.

I was pretty excited at the prospect of musicologist John Purser's lecture on Somhairle and 'the music of the bards', and it was a real treat indeed! It was a feast of fine oratory, music and recitation, as John shared with us the gems he has accumulated on CD that relate to Somhairle and the Scottish tradition in general. He made the point that modern poets don't allow time for their audience to react; the performance in delivery given by the bards past, mimicked by Somhairle, was to allow for their audience to get the full meaning and power of the poetry and for their reaction. John urges modern poets to slow down, to think of waves, think big! Gaelic poetry should function like a pibroch, which Somhairle aspired to and achieved. The multi-media experience continued with Margaret Bennett, who spoke about her son Martyn Bennett, a musical genius and wee friend of Somhairle, who was 15 when he wrote a piece called 'Somhairle's March' in honour of the bard! He also put the poem 'Hallaig' to music that lasted 9 minutes - Margaret told us that Martyn and his friends used to mimick Somhairle and would have his poems off by heart in the manner that the poet delivered it. Wee heroes worshipping a big hero.

The highly anticipated 1939 edition of 'An Cuilithionn' and unpublished poems by Christopher Whyte was launched at the conference, and he gave us a preview in a lecture on the poem, in the context of 'Choreography, Oreography and Political Responsibility'. Oreography means 'a branch of physical geography dealing with mountains'. A new word for me! Somhairle did not want this version of the Cuilithionn published, but it offers us a clearer insight into his intention with the published version, as it is considered not to have been properly completed. From examining the text, Christoper says that Somhairle was aware that the poem wasn't going to come across in English, and he insists that it is a mistake to treat the Gàidhlig and the English as equivalent (by placing them side by side). Political revolution is the subject of this poem, which Somhairle wanted to emanate from the Highlands outwards to the world. The lecture prompted some pretty heated political debate, but we were reminded not to judge Somhairle's left-wing politics too harshly, as we have the gift of hindsight.


The Storm, William McTaggart (1890)

On the Friday, Murdo MacDonald treated us to a colourfully illustrated history of the relationship between Scottish art and Scottish literature/poetry in the context of the Gàidhealtachd. He used Carmina Gadelica agus Somhairle's Dàin do Eimhir as two bookend works to this historical timeline. As Douglas Young noted, there seems to be an old Celtic habit of integration of words and image. While I was listening to Murdo's accounts of early 'Celtic Twilight' authors, Dwelly and Somhairle seeking image to accompany their texts, I could only think of Yeats striving for the same marriage with his family's Dun Emer/Cuala Press. This talk coincided with the opening of the 'Uinneag dhan Àird an Iar' ('Window to the West') mini-exhibition on the campus of SMO, with works that had been part of the original exhibition in the City Art Centre in Edinburgh. Murdo noted how the banners that hung outside on the gallery walls were a great achievement, for the size of the Gaelic words in such a prominent location! What a proud, modern Gàidhlig contrast to William McTaggart's painting The Storm, which depicts the disaster of emigration and loss of language and culture.

Sandra Byrne was a woman after my own heart with her discussion of Somhairle and the role of the bardic poet in the twentieth century. This is my main academic interest in Somhairle's poetry, his relationship to the Gaelic tradition that came before him, mixing his modernist voice with the voices of those bards long hushed under the soil. The restrictive bardic forms offered Somhairle some structure to the chaos of modern life, and his success as a poet was his ability to contain explosions of honest anguish in such self-restricting bardic practice. Máire Ní Annracháin, my supervisor and the woman who introduced me to the world of Somhairle and Gàidhlig, highlighted how an image can linger in the mind of a poet when it is equated with some strong emotion or memory. One such recurring image that Maire explored was that of the honeysuckle. In the early poem 'Abhainn Arois', Somhairle lingers not on the words or talk of his love, but the scent of honeysuckle that surrounded him and her. Fifty years later, Somhairle reflects back on this in 'Iadhshlat' ('Honeysuckle'), calling the flower's scent 'ìomhaigh chùbhraidh a bòidhche' ('a fragrant image of her beauty'). In the first poem, the honeysuckle is an association that sparks a memory; in the second, it has transformed into a metaphor, 'ròs is iadhdhlat a' ghaoil' ('the rose and honeysuckle of love').

Not only did I digest all of this luscious academic food for thought, I also philosophised through the mediums of Gaeilge and Gàidhlig in a field with Alan Titley as we followed pheasants; talked about haiku with Rody Gorman and Aonghus Dubh MacNeacail; listened to stories about Somhairle from people who knew him; I heard a tawny owl and lesser redpolls; I got eaten alive by midges; we had the most epic sing-song session anns a' Talla Mhòr; and I bought all of the five books that were launched at the conference. Yes, five books at one conference! I think this just shows the acceleration of the interest in Somhairle and Gàidhlig. The Eilean Sgitheanach and Sabhal Mòr Ostaig does feel like another world, and never fails to inspire me. I always feel very welcome, and they are so encouraging of anyone who has an interest in Gàidhlig. Though this wee area is the hub for Gàidhlig on a now English-speaking western isle, it feels like a stronghold for the language and culture; no matter how small it is and no matter how hard the English-language world presses in around it, the devotion to Gaelic is so staunch here that no threatening force could sway it. I like to think of Gàidhlig as being hardy and defiant like the thistle in Ted Hughes' poem:

Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of men
Thistles spike the summer air
And crackle open under a blue-black pressure.

Every one a revengeful burst
Of resurrection, a grasped fistful
Of splintered weapons and Icelandic frost thrust up

From the underground stain of a decayed Viking.
They are like pale hair and the gutturals of dialects.
Every one manages a plume of blood.

Then they grow grey like men.
Mown down, it is a feud. Their sons appear
Stiff with weapons, fighting back over the same ground.

Summer Wine

2011-07-02T20:41:00.004+01:00

Slow tears on green glass
A bottle of Chardonnay
Nearing its life's end

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2011

Haikiú - Gaoth

2011-06-28T21:26:00.000+01:00

oíche chiúin anocht
agus mé ag éisteacht;
an ghaoth ag athrú

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2011

W.B. Yeats - Daire Mhór na Filíochta

2011-06-28T21:25:00.004+01:00

W.B. Yeats in New York in the early '20s

[Scríofa 13 Meitheamh 2011]

Rugadh Yeats ar an lá seo sa mbliain 1865. Breithlá sona, a Gheataigh! :)

Tá ‘fhios ag mo chairde uilig go bhfuil ról tábhachtach ag Yeats i mo shaol - is mór an tionchar atá aige orm, go háirid ó thaobh mo chuid scríbhneoireachta dhe. Eiseamláir amach is amach é dom. Tháinig mé air don chéad uair nuair a cheannaigh mé leabhar dá chuid, cnuasach dá dhánta roghnaithe, sa siopa leabhar Chapters nuair a bhí siad suite ar Shráid na Mainistreach. Níl ‘fhios agam cén fáth a bhraith mé tarraingthe dá shaothar, ach is cosúil gur thaitin na híomhánna a bhí á léiriú ós comhair shúil m’intinne nuair a léigh mé cúpla dán sa siopa roimh an cnuasach a cheannach. Bhí draíocht ag baint lena chuid focla… Tá sé deacair dhom a mhíniú, ach bhí sé ar nós go raibh láimh dhíchollaithe ag cur greama orm as na bileoga! Bhraith mé an rud ceannann céanna nuair a chuaigh mé i dtaithí ar litríocht na Gaeilge. Anamacha a bhí marbh le fada ag caint liom, dom’ impí, agus bhraith mé coibhneas nó aifinideacht leo… Pé scéal é. Ansin, chas mé ar Yeats aríst nuair a rinne muid staidéar ar a chuid filíochta le haghaidh na hArdteiste, agus b’shin an uair a thosaigh an oibseisiún seo i gceart! Bhí spéis ag Yeats sa ndraíocht agus san osnádúr, agus measaim gur seo an príomh-rud a tharraing mé dá shaothar. Agus mé i mo dhéagóir, bhí sórt spreagadh nádúrtha ionam chun na págántachta; d’aimsigh mé mo chreideamh ionam fhéin, agus as sin amach deimhníodh mo fhealsúnach sa domhan mórthimpeall orm trí smaointeoireacht agus fealsúnach daoine eile. Ach ba Yeats an chéad duine a aontaigh liom beagnach go huile ‘s go hiomlán.

Léigh mé chuile leabhar ar Yeats a raibheas in ann a aimsiú chun a thuilleadh eolais a fháil, ag lorg mé fhéin oiread agus mé ag iarraidh dul in aithne ar Yeats féin! Cuireadh tús le mo shaol acadúil i gceart nuair a fhreastal mé ar an Scoil Samhradh Yeats i Sligeach sa mbliain 2006, th’éis dhom m’Ardteist a chríochnú. D’fhill mé ar ais chuile bhliain, ar nós fáinleoige. (Chaill mé amach ar an scoil anuraidh, óir go raibheas i mbun mo thráchtais Mháistreachta.)

Chas mé ar chairde agus smaointeoireacht den chéad scoth ag an scoil sin, agus caithfidh mé a rá go bhfuilim go mór faoi chomaoin na scoile, agus murach í ní bheinn mar atáim inniu. Tá an-chuid deiseanna ag baint le hinstitiúid dá sórt do dhaoine acadúla óga. Ní raibh sé chomh deacair dul isteach ar an ollscoil i ndiaidh taithí caite agam don chéad bhliain sa Scoil Samhradh Yeats; ní raibh faitíos orm mo chuid smaointí a roinnt leis na ranganna i UCD óir gur bhraith mé go raibh siad deimhnithe agus spreagtha i measc acadóirí a thaistil ó chuile chúinne na cruinne thuas i Sligeach.

Bhraith mé, agus braithim fós, go bhfuilim go mór faoi scáth Yeats agus mé ag déanamh iarrachta ceird na filíochta a chleachtadh. Is maith an rud é go bhfuil meán na Gaeilge agam chun mo ghuth a scaoil amach, nó bheadh na focla tachta i mo scornach! Is deacair an rud é a bheith i mbun scríbhneoireachta agus tionchar mór ort ag scríbhneoir cáiliúil eile. Bíonn an-chuid scríbhneoirí ar fud an domhain ag dul i ngleic le Yeats. Mar a dúirt an file Austin Clarke,

“So far as the younger generation of poets are concerned, here in Ireland, Yeats was rather like an enormous oak-tree which, of course, kept us in the shade, and did exclude a great number of the rays of, say, the friendly sun; and of course we always hoped that in the end we would reach the sun, but the shadow of that great oak-tree is still there.” (Rodgers [ed.], “W.B. Yeats” in Mikhail [1977], W.B. Yeats: Interviews and Recollections, pp. 316-33, at p. 330)

D’éirigh mé sórt scartha ó Yeats nuair a thosaigh mé ag leanacht bhóthar na Gaeilge. B’fhéidir gur maith sin, chun mé fhéin a fheabhsú lasmuigh de scáth na darach móire sin! Ar ndóigh, tá sé tábhachtach teorainneacha do goirt a fhairsingiú. Bhí sé i gcónaí ann, áfach, i gcónaí ar chúl m’intinne cibé a bhí ar siúl agam. Feictear dom go raibh tionchar ag traidisiún na Gaeilge air, agus cé nach raibh sé in ann an teanga a fhoghlaim (rinne Bantiarna Gregory cúpla iarracht an teanga a mhúineadh dó!), rinne sé a seacht ndícheall spiorad an traidisiúin sin a chur chun cinn, agus é a spreagadh ar stáitse an domhain. Sílim go bhfaca mé an spiorad sin ina shaothar, agus sin an fáth nach mbraithim gaol ceart idir mé fhéin agus scríbhneoirí Béarla eile, seachas eisean. Ba é Yeats duine de na chéad scríbhneoirí a chur aird ar thábhacht an bhéaloidis, agus cuireann sé as dom nach dtugann lucht an Bhéaloidis in Éirinn meas dó mar gheall ar sin. D’aithin Yeats an chumhacht atá ag baint leis na scéalta agus deas-gnáthanna a bhí (agus atá, in áiteacha) ag “na gnáthdhaoine”, agus b’ionann dó creidimh seo na ndaoine agus an nóisean aige de spioradáltacht choiteann ag an gcine daoine. Chonacthas dó go raibh siombailí agus móitífeanna i neamhchomhfhios an chine dúchais (tagtar orthu i mbrionglóidí), agus go raibh siad ar fáil d’ fhilí agus do scríbhneoirí chun litríocht “náisiúnta” a chruthú ar son na tíre. Sin a bhí ar láimh aige nuair a bhunaigh sé Amharclann na Mainistreach le Bantiarna Gregory agus Edward Martyn. Mhol sé nach mbeimis in ann fíor saoire na tíre a bhaint amach gan dul ar ais i dtaithí ar chultúr na tíre chun spiorad agus dearcadh dúchais an chine a mhúscailt. Agus b’shin roimh chritic an iar-choilíneachais!

Ní raibheas ag plé le Yeats le fada, áfach, óir go raibheas ag díriú ar an nGaeilge agus ar an nGàidhlig, go dtí mí nó dhó ó shin nuair a chuaigh Tile Films i dteagmháil liom mar gheall ar chlár teilifíse ar TG4, Cé a Chónaigh i Mo Theach-sa?, clár ina dtugtar cúlra dúinn de thithe cháiliúla ar fud na tíre. Nílim chun mórán a rá faoin tionscadal sin go fóill, ach abraimis gur bhraith mé ag an am go raibh an file mór ag dul ar ais i dteagmháil de shórt eicínt liom, go raibh sé ag teacht ar ais i mo shaol, ach i gcomhthéacs na Gaeilge ar an mbabhta seo. Ba mhór dom an deis sin a tharraing Yeats agus an Ghaeilge le chéile; tá sé i gceist agam an nasc sin a spreagadh sa todhchaí. Táim ag filleadh chuig an Scoil Samhradh Yeats i mbliana chun ceardlanna teanga na Gaeilge a thabhairt do na mic léinn eile, agus beidh mé ag freastal ar an scoil agus na hócáidí uilig. Rud suntasach freisin ná go mbeidh Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill i láthair i mbliana, file a ndearna mé iniúchadh ar dhánta dá chuid dom’ thráchtas. Is cinnte go mbeidh mé bainteach le Yeats aríst amach anseo…

An Ghrian

2011-06-28T21:19:00.000+01:00

Boladh gainimh 's salainne
siosarnach na farraige,
Scréach linbh seachas faoileán.

2 Meitheamh

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2011

Ted Hughes - “Imagine what you are writing about. See it and live it.”

2011-06-28T21:18:00.003+01:00

Ted Hughes

I’m currently reading Ted Hughes’ Poetry in the Making, a collection of the talks that he wrote for and read on the BBC series “Listening and Writing”, which was directed towards an audience of schoolchildren (and no doubt the big children who are writers and poets!).

I LOVE Ted Hughes’ poetry, because he has think knack of capturing the sensuality of the subject in his words, and his images are always striking. He’s on a par with the Old Irish nature poets with his gift for portraying landscapes, animals, birds and the elements. It’s pretty cool of him to intimate his secret to poetlets/poetlings through his talk entitled “Capturing Animals”. I’m going to share a lengthly quote from this chapter in the book:

How can a poem, for instance, about a walk in the rain, be like an animal? Well, perhaps it cannot look much like a giraffe or an emu or an octopus, or anything you might find in a menagerie. It is better to call it an assembly of living parts moved by a single spirit. The living parts are the words, the images, the rhythms. The spirit is the life which inhabits them when they all work together. It is impossible to say which comes first, parts or spirit. But if any of the parts are dead… if any of the words, or images or rhythms do not jump to life as you read them… then the creature is going to be maimed and the spirit sickly. So, as a poet, you have to make sure that all those parts over which you have control, the words and rhythms and images, are alive.
…
[I]magine what you are writing about. See it and live it. Do not think it up laboriously, as if you were working out mental arithmetic. Just look at it, touch it, smell it, listen to it, turn yourself to it. When you do this, the words look after themselves, like magic. If you do this you do not have to bother about commas or full-stops or that sort of thing. You do not look at the words either. You keep your eyes, your ears, your nose, your taste, your touch, your whole being on the thing you are turning into words. The minute you flinch, and take your mind off this thing, and begin to look at the words and worry about them… then your worry goes into them and they set about killing each other. So you keep going as long as you can, then look back and see what you have written. After a bit of practice, and after telling yourself a few times that you do not care how other people have written about this thing, this is the way you find it; and after telling yourself you are going to use any old word that comes into your head so long as it seems right at the moment of writing it down, you will surprise yourself. You will read back through what you have written and you will get a shock. You will have captured a spirit, a creature.
[Ted Hughes, Poetry in the Making (2008), pp. 17-19]

He’s a magician. But here’s a question: is he talking about purely focusing on a subject that you hold in your mind’s eye, your imagination, or does he also mean actually studying a subject in front of your eyes? I would argue for the former, as I believe the imagination is what has the power to create life through words. Yeats would agree. He argued that a poet should meditate on a subject, after a possible true encounter has happened. It needs to burn in your mind for a bit before you can process it. I find personally that the object in front of me make me mute, it steals any words from my mouth. Only when I’m away from its gaze can I string together words. The intensity of experience casts me into silence. However, I did stand on the beach with my notebook and wrote about the waves once…

Another question I have - what if you’re writing in your second language, and you work with dictionaries to hunt for the right word? That sort of kills the focus on the subject doesn’t it? A question to ponder on, I suppose.

Redstarts - living ‘wholly and enviably to themselves’

2011-06-28T21:13:00.004+01:00

John Andrew Wright

I was watching BBC’s Springwatch last week, and Chris Packham read an extract written by ornithologist John Buxton in 1943 while he was a prisoner in a war camp in Bavaria. Apparently much of what we know about Redstarts (pictured) has been gained from this man’s observations. I was really struck by the extract, and thought I’d share it.

‘One of the chief joys of watching these birds in prison was that they inhabited another world than I. They lived wholly and enviably to themselves unconcerned in our fatuous politics, without the limitations imposed all about us by our knowledge. They lived only in the moment, without foresight and with memory only of things of immediate practical concern to them.’

Imagine being in prison, and living your life through the birds you see flying free out of your window? It would keep me sane, I can tell you. I often do it from my own bedroom window! I can’t explain why I love birds so much, but I would say it is because they seem to have this sort of philosophy as described above. Philosophy is the wrong word here, as Buxton has just said that it is in fact our ‘knowledge’ and ‘love of knowledge’ that imposes the limitations on us… Their way of life then, the way they live only for the moment, and deal with things as they happen. To take every day as it comes, and to enjoy it. To sing, to fly, to eat!

Basic functions, but so delightful. We don’t take delight in these basic functions ourselves, not really. We think too much for our own good, and we’re always in a hurry to get to something that is always ahead of us. I think we should take a leaf out of the Redstart’s book, and enjoy every day, and concern ourselves only with our own little patch. If everyone looked after their own patch themselves with patience and dedication, the whole world would be a much better place.

See this blog by Squeak’s Wheel for another meditation on the same extract.

Caoimhín Naofa agus an Chéirseach

2011-06-28T21:10:00.000+01:00

Le teacht an Charghais,
imíonn Caoimhín leis
chuig bothán caol,
leac ghlas mar leaba dó;

Glacann sé faoiseamh
ó chomhrá na ndaoine,
i bhfabhar machnaimh
i bhfochair éan 's ainmhithe.

Leabhar ina lámha,
úlla bána 'na thimpeall
ar na sailí cromtha,
siúlann an fear naofa -

Ar chiumhais na coille
a shroicheadh, stadann sé -
Ciúnas. Corp beag dubh
leagtha ar an talamh:

Lon dubh bocht, marbh.
A chlúmh lonrach fós,
gob néata buí, balbh.
Tost ar an gceol go deo.

An guth chomh glinn sin,
's é ag gairm ón tsailleach!
Bhí an lon grinnsúileach,
díograiseach mar chomharsan.

Trua ina chroí dó,
guíonn an naomh ar a shon,
a lámh mhothálach
sínte uaidh amach.

Tagann céirseach ón gcoill
chun tuirlingt ar a bhos;
baintreach úr, cumhach
i ndiaidh a céile.

Is foighneach an fear,
's caomh, go deimhin -
coinníonn sé a lámh mar sin
go ndéanann sí nead inti.

Mar lomán faoin éan
a lámh anois, go dtabharfaidh
amach an líne; is géar mór
pian na comaoine.

10 Aibreán 2011

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2011

What’s the Gaeilge for a sort of positive feeling of nostalgia?

2011-06-28T21:08:00.002+01:00

[Originally posted here on April 3, 2011]

As I walked home to my grandparents house in Marino from town yesterday, a profound feeling came over me; it’s a feeling I get often when I return to the area. I pretty much grew up there, so obviously I have a strong connection with the place. I don’t think the term ‘nostalgia’ fits this feeling; this certain feeling is a type of happiness, a feeling that comes back from a time past. A lingering feeling from childhood, I reckon, that is prompted by something. In this case, it was the place. As I continued walking, another strange thought entered my mind - “Ba chóir go mbeadh Gaeilge á labhairt anseo…” (“Irish should be spoken here…”) I felt that the area had the same feeling that I do get from Irish-speaking areas. Strange!

But then it makes sense - I always felt that Irish is a link between me and my childhood. I only encountered Irish in school; there was no Irish at home, I didn’t attend a Gaelscoil, and I never went to the Gaeltacht. But something in the language itself prompts this same feeling of ‘home’ and ‘childhood’ in my mind. I originally picked Irish in college because I felt that I missed it from school! After finishing my Irish Leaving Cert exam, I remember walking forlornly out from the school grounds thinking “I can’t believe that I’ll never do Irish again…”, while everyone else around me was jubilant. I picked Irish in college to keep that link, which was one of childhood and identity.

As I left my grandparents house today, the view we have of the Dublin mountains was lovely and clear today, with Conamara clouds (as I call them, after the paintings of Paul Henry) above them. I love where I live now in Louth, but the mountains really prompted that keen connection with my native place. You can’t take Dublin out of the girl! And, from what I glean from my musings, I think the spirit of Gaeilge does survive in the Capital!

Breakfast Crows

2011-06-28T21:07:00.000+01:00

Crows lift dog food
chisel it with beaks:
hammer hammer hammer
munch munch munch
caw caw caw
swift glossy flight
swoop
clink of beak on ceramic
crunchy food in clenched foot claws
hammer hammer hammer
munch munch -
squabble!
clash of wings and scrapes
swagger -
munch.

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2011

Yeats International Summer School 2011, Sligo

2011-06-28T21:05:00.003+01:00

I’m very excited to present the brochure for this year’s Yeats International Summer School in the Land of Heart’s Desire itself, Sligo, the mythological landscape that inspired some of W.B. Yeats’ most beautiful poetry. The poet also spent his childhood here, and his family’s heritage still plays an important part of the cultural identity of the county. What better backdrop than Sligo to set the two week long Summer School, which also coincides with the annual Yeats Festival.

The iconic landscape of Sligo, with the mountains of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea, has had an immense influence on me, as much as the Summer School itself was a crucial part of my academic training, and has also led to many friendships that I hold dear.

I’m proud to say that I will not only be attending the school this year, but I will also have the honour of giving Irish language workshops to the students attending the school, who come from all over the world! I must admit that I’m still in awe to see my name on the School’s programme alongside with eminent Yeatsian scholars that I am very fortunate to call my friends!

You can also see the brochure in proper proportions in a PDF file [opens PDF] provided by the Yeats Society Sligo website.

Idir Dhá Thraidisúin (nó Trí…)

2011-06-28T21:04:00.004+01:00

[Originally posted here on January 6th, 2011]

Something odd occured to me the other evening while I sang along to songs on my iPod - I know the words of Scottish Gaelic songs and not Irish songs! How weird is that? I set myself to learn a song in Scottish Gaelic ‘Mo Bheannachd Dhan Bhailidh Ùr’ (though I still struggle with some of the words), but I’ve never really had the same drive to learn an Irish song. I stood and lingered on this thought for a moment, and some thoughts hit me.

I think the songs are presented in a much more accessible way to modern audiences in Scotland than in Ireland. Irish traditional singing is quite purist still in the sense that it’s not really changing in order to adapt to its new context, which allowes for the old songs to be still sung in a modern world that has a much broader exposure to different styles of music.

I don’t mean that it has to change, what I mean is there should be a branch of a further new development in style while still remaining in the tradition. There are very few in Irish sean-nós who do this. Irish singers do, however, ‘water down’ their tradition to make it commercially appealing to tourists who have a misty-eyed view of Ireland. This may seem a very snobbish observation, but it’s a fact not only obvious in musical terms but in Irish culture in general. (This is not to say that the Scots don’t do the same, but we’ll come to them later.) The effect of this is that the native Irish have become repulsed by the ‘hye-diddley-eye’ made-for-export commodity that is popular Irish culture. This is only an aspect of the much broader Irish cultural collective, but this has had such a negative effect on the Irish psyche that the ‘true part’ (if you like) of our native culture has been neglected, and left to gather dust.

Another problem is the Irish language, which keeps our authentic culture - the majority of Irish people have become alienated from the language, and so they have become alienated from their culture. Personally, I have literally had to learn my native language, and so I literally learned my culture - and I’m still learning it. Monoglotism in favour of the English language is essentially a barrier preventing the Irish from truly re-acquainting themselves with their native culture after colonisation. This is why bilingualism in English and Irish (at least! learn other languages to broaden your mind further!) is something the Irish should aspire to; only then will they truly find their original mindset and see that their native culture is not something to be watered down for export. It is something for us. And, once we reclaim our culture, then we can share it properly with the world, and create something new by experimenting with different blends. In musical terms, fuse styles together to create new sounds, and perhaps blow the dust off old musical manuscripts to reintroduce old songs and tunes to the modern world.

Just as I’ve been writing this, I realise that all of my examples are female. Well, there are no accidents, as they say. As a woman, of course I’m going to look to my fellow females as a basis to my interpretation of culture. I’m going to discuss contemporary artists as opposed to the older bona fide sean-nós singers. Unfortunately (or fortunately, whatever way you look at it) I wasn’t born in the Gaeltacht; I do not come from a family steeped in Gaelic tradition. I found the language and the tradition myself, and perhaps this is why I value them so dearly - they’re mine, my way of individual expression. The only drawback to this is my trepidation at the beginning of my cultural journey - here I was on a Gaeltacht course, afraid to speak a word in case I got it wrong, and sitting feeling shameful while others stood and sang loudly and proudly songs as Gaeilge that they knew. This was my culture, but I was alienated in its midst. It was excruciating. And you know, though I’m now fluent enough in the language and well-versed in the culture, I still don’t know the words to the songs that the people belt out around me. I still cower. This, I think, is due to my insecurity as a learner and it hasn’t gone away. What doesn’t help is the many critcial Gaeilgeoirí who create a cliquey feeling at Irish language events. There are unfortunately many snobbish know-it-alls who look down on those who learned the language themselves later in life. If you’re not from the Gaeltacht or go to a Gaelscoil, you can forget it.

So I bought my CDs, of the bona fide sean-nós singers and these new artists who are presenting old songs to new audiences. One of the first of these was Lasairfhíona Ní Chonaola. Now it’s my turn to be the snobbish hypocrite. To me she doesn’t come across, though I don’t deny she’s a beautiful voice. Her music is very - do I dare say it - inauthentic. I don’t mean authenticity here in terms of tradition, but in terms of musical creativity. To me, it’s not real, it’s too dreamy and appealing to the tourist’s view of Ireland. There’s no pulsing blood in it, but the frothy white stuff (!) that fairies are supposed to be made up of. You can hear the Aran Islands in her music (especially a track that I love on her first album An Raicín Álainn, ‘Oileán na Teiscinne’), with the dim wet winter days, mist from the sea and rain on your face. But she could do something much more tangible and powerful if she dared. Her tradition is a rooted thing, of earth and cold rough stone - she has the mistiness of the islands down, now she needs to put across the real emotions and sweat behind those old songs, and to be bolder with her new ones. Líadan are very talented as a group, they’ve got it going on. I only have their fantastic version of ‘P is for Paddy’ (as Béarla, but sush! it’s a good song!) from their first album, but I bought their second album Casadh na Taoide - this album has a mixture of Irish and English language songs and traditional tunes. My favourite track has to be Síle Denvir singing ‘Tomás Bán Mac Aogáin’. This is actually one song (and specifically this version) in Irish that captivates me enough (words and tune-wise) to learn it, not unlike the affect that the Gaelic ‘Mo Bheannachd Dhan Bhallidh Ùr’ had on me. Some of their songs can be a bit predictable insomuch as they sound like they were produced in a manner to appeal to those who relish the watered down version of Irish music, but mostly they are pretty rooted in their tradition. Pauline Scanlon and Éilís Kennedy as Lumière (originally called ‘Dingle White Females’; I don’t know why they changed their name. ‘Lumière’ to me doesn’t seem relevant…) lend their beautiful voices from An Daingean to traditional songs in Irish and English. I have to say their voices have that typical traditional tone to them, and their arrangement of the songs are honest and straightforward, as if they were singing beside you in your room. Their version of ‘Fill Fill, a Rún Ó’ was the first Irish language song that I set myself to learn - the pain of the song really came through in their high voices, with the ornamentation in the right places. A friend gave me Acabella’s amazing jazzy version of ‘Molly na gCuach Ní Chuilleanáin’ - now this is what I’m looking for! It’s gutsy, brave and new, and gives a kick to the song. This interview with them on Beo.ie explains how the five of them came from different musical backgrounds, and how they put these different styles together to create something new. This is a perfect example of breathing new life into old songs, and bringing traditional songs into popular culture without killing its spirit.

Now we come to the Scots. I remember talking to a friend of mine who’s also mad into the sean-nós and traditional music before I first went to the Isle of Skye on a summer course in Gàidhlig in Sabhal Mòr Ostaig. He said to me that he felt that they have better tunes and songs than we do in Ireland. I was stubborn and couldn’t imagine such a fact. But then I experienced it myself - and I fell deep deep deep in love! My experience in the Gàidhealtachd was the opposite of how I felt in the Gaeltacht - I wasn’t shy to use Gaelic words, and I was able to enjoy becoming acquainted with Gaelic music and culture. There was no pressure, no judgement. I figure this is because I had no cultural baggage to weigh me down. It was hard to admit that I was an outsider amongst my Irish language and culture, but because this was Scotland I and felt happy and excited to try, make mistakes and be corrected so I could learn. I was more accepting of my language level, and Gaeilge became a friend to keep me company on this new journey.

The main quality I noticed about the Scottish Gaelic tradition is that, ironically, it’s presented in a more contemporary way. It may be a language that hasn’t changed much in form from the Classical period, but with the correct use of modern resources it seems to be more accessible newcomers, and to Scots coming from an English-speaking background. BBC Alba and Sabhal Mòr Ostaig’s site alone are invaluable. I think more effort has been put into making Gàidhlig more accessible through the media because she is in worse trouble than Irish - unfortunately she only has the Highlands to support her, and a few friends in Glasgow, Aberdeen and maybe Edinburgh, as opposed to Irish which has the status as the official language of Ireland, and an EU language. (I would like to say at this point that Gàidhlig also has support from us here in Ireland, and no doubt from Nova Scotia.) I’m still trying to get my head around her situation, but I’m very impressed so far with the resources available to someone wanting to learn Gàidhlig. It seems more approachable to me, but I’m not sure what it’s like to learn Irish coming from the outside, so maybe I can’t make a proper comparison. (Maybe some of my American and Candian friends can help me with this one.) Vast Scottish Gaelic-English dictionaries are available online, but when it comes to Irish, focal.ie is a terms only reference dictionary and An Foclóir Beag is only through Irish…

Now for the music. My first encounter with contemporary traditional Scottish music was with the Mhàiri Hall Trio, who played a gig at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig. Mhàiri Hall herself was classically trained on the piano, but her love of traditional tunes led her to develop her unique style. Her story is incredible, she collected old tunes and came across old manuscripts, which probably haven’t been played for a century, and she arranged them on her piano so that they have a new lease of life today. The combination of the classical and the traditional creates a jazzy feel, very energetic. You can hear the traditional traits in the pieces, but it’s not obvious - so she has created something very fresh and contemporary. Needless to say, we all flocked to buy a copy of their album, Cairngorm, when the gig was over.

Oh, I’m telling you a lie - my first encounter with a contemporary traditional Scottish artist was Joy Dunlop, at Cuairt na bhFilí Albanacha in Dublin last April. She sang us three songs; one of them was an impressive port à beul (mouth-music). I began following her on Twitter, and knew that her album Dùsgadh had been released when I was heading to Scotland, so I set myself to buy it. And I did. She has such a powerful voice, but it’s easy at the same time. When I brought the album home and stuck it on my CD player, I was astonished at her arrangement of the songs - there were similar contemporay piano sounds to that of Mhàiri Hall, and the sort of ‘alternative’ sound that you would find on a Lisa Hannigan or a Gemma Hayes album. I thought this quality of sound and contemporary arrangements was a rarity (and it must be said that Joy Dunlop is a rarity!), but then I finally managed to get my hands on Julie Fowlis’ Cuilidh. I would say that this album is quickly gaining on Lisa Hannigan’s Sea Sew as the most played album on my player! Again, here was another fantastic traditional singer (and whistle-player to boot) who poured her young energy into old songs and who had exceptional taste in creating a particular sound.

These are not watered-down, made-for-export arrangements. They sound like songs newly-composed, contemporary (to use that word yet again!) and relevant. They may be old songs, but new sap is flowing from them due to the new lease of life given to them. They are from centuries past, but it is the singers/performers and their new arrangements that make them more appealing and accessible to a modern audience. Through these new presentations of the songs/tunes, people can work their way back to the original traditional contexts if they’re interested. The bottom line is that songs are meant to be sung, they are meant to be both expressions of society as it is and as popular entertainment. This purist and academic approach to the tradition that we often find only distances people from what is rightfully theirs. The Scots have done well, and should be proud.
So I guess the main reasons I find the Scottish songs more appealing to learn? the freedom their new arrangements give them, the fresher approach to them, and the lack of cultural snobbery that I get from my own crowd.

Irish and Scottish Gaelic Folklore Projects

2011-06-28T21:00:00.003+01:00

[Originally posted here on November 13, 2010]

I was listening to the lovely Julie Fowlis earlier today, and I decided to Google more information about a particular song and it’s original historical context. After a few pages, I came across a website (with much celebration and glee!) that acts as an online catalogue for Scottish Gaelic folkloric material. The website is Tobar an Dualchais, and it’s a project that seeks ‘to preserve, digitise, catalogue and make available online several thousand hours of Gaelic and Scots recordings’ and to ‘ensure that Scotland’s rich oral heritage is safeguarded and made widely available for educational and personal use for future generations.’ The recordings come from the School of Scottish Studies (University of Edinburgh), BBC Scotland and the National Trust for Scotland’s Canna Collection. Something that excites me is that the database contains folklore collected by Calum MacLean during the 1950s! On the homepage, you can click on a particular area on the map of Scotland, and you’ll be brought to pages of recordings from that area. You can also search the database with the title of a song, for example, if you want. It gives you the details of the recording (title, contributor, reporter, summary, duration, location, etc), and a player (that requires Flash) allows you to listen to the recording.

I went looking for an equivalent in Ireland, and couldn’t find one, besides a few files on the UCD National Folklore Collection site. Then a contact of mine on Facebook, Risteárd Mag Uidhir, sent me the link to the Doegen Records Web Project, which is similar to Tobar an Dualchais. This project is run by the Royal Irish Academy Library in collaboration with the Digital Humanities Observatory. It follows a similar format, with recordings made during the years 1928-31, and ‘includes recordings from many regions of Ireland where traditional Irish dialects have disappeared since the time the recordings were made’, one of which is the County Louth dialect, which has Ulster and Gàidhlig sounds, as far as I can hear. A lot of counties haven’t been covered, unfortunately, which I don’t think is down to lack of material that could have been found.

I’m fascinated with folklore and the song traditions of both Ireland and Scotland (or anywhere, really!), so I was really excited when I came across these websites. They are absolutely invaluable.

You can join the Tobar an Dualchais group and also befriend them on Facebook, and you can now follow them on Twitter!

Midnight Music - Three Haiku

2011-06-28T20:57:00.001+01:00

1 Forte

a brutal wind blows

scattered autumn leaves:

dissipated emotions.

2 Glissando

stripping off my clothes

I add words to naked page;

night-time transaction.

3 Crescendo

orchestral winds play

a brisk late-night symphony;

through the vent, a flute.

Descriptive writing in prose - a bit of a rant

2011-06-28T20:56:00.002+01:00

[Originally posted here on October 25, 2010]

I’m reading A.S. Byatt’s Possession at the moment, and I must say that I have mixed feelings about it. There are instances of brilliance in it, mainly when it concerns the characters themselves: her description of Roland Michell photocopying the stolen letter drafts brought a smile to my face as it described exactly my experiences as a chronic-photocopier during my time in UCD Library. I can empathise greatly with Maud Bailey as a character, and find that my attention levels heighten when she enters the narrative. Byatt’s use of folkloric plotline formulae create enjoyable stories written by Christabel LaMotte, but the poetry (so far and in my opinion) is awful. I do get the impression that Randolph Henry Ash is not supposed to me a great poet, but rather an obscure literary figure adopted by modern postgraduates in order for them to find a topic that hasn’t been picked to bits, so perhaps Byatt writes his poems in the most boring and brain-numbing manner to reflect his character (and Victorian time-period).

The problem that I have with Byatt is her banal descriptions, that make me feel impatient as a reader as they take away from the flow of the narrative. Here’s an example:

The valleys are deep and narrow, some wooded, some grassy, some ploughed. (Byatt, Possession, 68)

I may not be enrolled in a literary course in university anymore, but the literary critic in me is still very much switched on. This, for me, is an insipid description that is not necessary. As far as I am concerned, a modern writer should describe things of distinction distinctively. If they’re not distinctive, they don’t need description (unless, perhaps, to create the bored affect of banality from the position of a particular character). And if they’re worth describing, give them language worth writing (and worth reading)! If what you’re describing is an inanimate object, give it life, and characteristics; give it meaning in the context of what you’re trying to impress upon the reader.

This is why I frequently abandon prose-writings; it has to be cleverly written, with creative or poetic language, and gripping with activity and interesting characters for me to become enamoured with it. This kind of meaningless description like the one above bores me to tears and my mind either wanders or I become angered and argue with the writer! If I wanted ‘realistic’ descriptions, I’d pick up the newspaper. (‘Real’ being an ambiguous word these days…) Good writing/literature should grasp the imagination and the spirit, and (if it’s excellent) give them a good shake.

Maybe it’s because I’m returning to English literature after Gaelic, or to prose after poetry. I find Gaelic (Irish and particularly in Scottish) writing to be very rich in imagery - we use language sensually, using words to paint pictures, that causes tremours of meaning (very pretentiously put, I know!) in your very imagination. (I suppose I’m talking about poetry here for the most part, so maybe it’s not a fair comparison…) Only in the really old Gaelic texts do you find banal, dry and tedious descriptions with lists of adjectives. Basically, Gaelic writing is very fresh - to put it in terms of painting, the effect of the words would be like vivid shiney oils.
While I sat in bed last night under the full moon, with my blood full of wine and anger, I raging silently against Byatt’s writing and then began to think of how I would describe a similar rural setting. I wouldn’t describe something that wasn’t worth the words, as I have said already. So my mind’s eye wandered over to Scotland (as it so often does these days, in waking and sleeping), and I thought of the mountains near Glenfinnan.

As I took my rage out on the pages of my notebook, I stabbed in these two descriptions that I came up with for these sweeping mountains:

‘well-endowed bosoms of the earth’
‘a woman’s raised shapely knees under a green quilt’

So they’re not the best descriptions, by no means, but I’m using them to illustrate a point. Interestingly, in both descriptions I refer to female anatomy; coming from a Gaelic background in literature (and a specifically Irish Gaelic background), I see the land as feminine, as goddess. (In Scottish Gaelic tradition, as far as I know, they don’t often refer to the land of Scotland as a goddess like we do in Ireland.) I think I’ve gotten the shape of the mountain here right, and by refering to the feminine I’m betraying my Irish Gaelic approach. Literary language should say more than what it appears to be literally saying.

What does Byatt say in her description? Not a lot. You would really have to pressurise the text to get something out of that. Yawn.

Scríbhneoireacht Aerach

2011-06-28T20:53:00.003+01:00

[Scríofa ó bhunús anseo 26ú d' Iúil, 2010 - tá spéis agam sa dtionscadal fós!]

Bhí mé ag caint le cara liom le déanaí faoi thionscadal atá ar m’intinn - táim ag smaoineamh ar chnuasach litríochta a chur le chéile, le gearrscéalta/prós, filíocht agus píosaí neamhfhicseanúla (as Gaeilge nó Gàidhlig) scríofa ag scríbhneoirí aeracha.

Táim ag iarraidh an t-eispéireas aerach a roinnt trí mheán na Gaeilge/Gàidhlige - ábhar aerach a bheas i bpíosaí scríbhneoireachta an chnuasaigh, faoi thaithí dhaoine LADT, cuirim i gcás an taithí atá acu ar an ‘suíomh’, nó fadhbanna a bhuaileann siad leo, agus dánta grá aeracha/leispiacha. Nílim ag caint faoi rudaí ró-phearsanta, ach saothair chruthaitheacha a thagann as fíor thaithí dhaoine LADT na hÉireann/na hAlban. Is féidir le daoine d’aoiseanna éagsúla agus daoine as ceantair éagsúla ar fud na tíre (anseo agus in Albain) páirt a ghlacadh. Nó fiú daoine le Gaeilge/Gàidhlig atá thar lear. B’aoibhinn liom é dá mbeadh scríbhneoirí atá ina gcónaí faoin tuatha, nó sa Ghaeltacht fiú amháin, in ann a dtaithí a roinnt faoi shaol an duine aeraigh lasmuigh de na cathracha. Thabharfadh an cnuasach deis do dhaoine a nguthanna a úsáid trí mheán na litríochta chun a bheith bródúil astu.

Nílim ag iarraidh a bheith ‘polaitiúil’ leis an gcnuasach seo, ach ag iarraidh an Ghaeilge agus an Ghàidhlig a chur chun cinn agus lucht na Gaeilge agus na Gàidhlige a tharraingt le chéile. Fuair mé inspioráid mhór as Cuairt na bhFilí Albanacha, a raibh eagraithe ag Comhdháil Náisiúnta na Gaeilge - bhí filíocht den chéad scoth ann ag scríobh sa dá theanga. Tionscadal deas a bheas ann don lucht LADT chun a n-eispéireas a roinnt le pobal na Gaeilge, agus chun feasacht a fheabhsú ar an saol LADT. Tugann litríocht LADT tacaíocht do dhaoine atá ag streachailt lena gcuid gnéasachta, agus braitheann daoine níos compordaí iontu féin nuair a dtuigeann siad nach bhfuil siad ina n-aonair. Chomh maith leis sin, spreagfadh an cnuasach scríbhneoirí nua chun litríocht níos nua-aimseartha a chruthú a bheadh oiriúnach dár linne!

Má tá spéis ag scríbhneoirí páirt a ghlacadh, seol r-phost chugam ag alisonnidhorchaidhe@gmail.com

‘Triquetra Table’ by Design Onion

2011-06-28T20:51:00.005+01:00

‘Triquetra Table’, a hall table designed by Ronán Lowery for Design Onion epitomises the idea of an Irish design, that could be called Gaelic or Celtic while at the same time embodying modern style. In a post-colonial country where ‘true’ or ‘pure’ identity is hotly debated, I would argue for the adaptation of simple traits in our ancestors’ design and style, to be recreated into something that is relevant to today’s culture and the competitive design market. This is exactly what Lowery has done in his creation of this piece, as he explains himself:

The inspiration for this hall table came from the Celtic “triquetra” symbol. It is considered to represent the three domains of earth according to Celtic legend - earth, sea and sky as well as the triplicities of mind, body and soul.*

Lowery utilises one common symbol from the Celtic style to create something functional and visually striking; the triquetra symbol is dragged from the vellum pages of medieval manuscripts and tired clichéd usage in popular culture to become something edgy and elegant all at once. The wood has a two-toned effect, with walnut rails edging around ash legs that are laquered to finish. The table top is glass that is fixed to the wooden legs with brushed stainless steel pins. Lowery combines his love of nature and fascination for geometric shapes in his designs, which creates ‘smooth flowing furniture but with a very ordered look.’* Added to this is his sensitivity to his clients, aspiring to have their personality, taste and needs reflected in his work. He works on a commission basis for Design Onion, based in Co. Armagh, and assures that the finished piece will be the result of an intimate collaboration between himself and the client.

Design Onion was founded in 2007 by Lowery and fellow furniture designer Eric O’Donnell, who both studied Furniture Design and Manufacture in Letterfrack furniture college. Though O’Donnell has since taken a step back from this business venture in order to pursue other projects, this video featured on You Tube offers an insight into how a design piece is conceptualised and created, keeping in with the theme of an Irish design style using traditional methods in the

creation of contemporary furniture.

Design Onion can be found amongst other Irish designers on the Irish Furniture Designers Network website, and can be contacted by e-mail at info@designonion.net.

Intertextual Language - Bakhtin and Gaeilge

2011-06-28T20:48:00.003+01:00

[Originally posted here on July 7, 2010]

I’m currently reading Graham Allen’s book Intertextuality: New Critical Idiom, a pioneering book on the literary criticism scene, in order to examine poems of Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill in an intertextual light. The term ‘intertextual’ is thrown around a lot, without its users fully understanding its complicated definition. It is actually very difficult to pin down. Basically, everything that we humans ‘create’ is intertextual, because there is no such thing as originality, as it is understood generally. The way in which we ‘express’ ourselves and the mediums in which we ‘create’ are systems themselves that we enter into, for example language, conventions of literature, mediums of art and the musical stave. The very way in which we function as humans is not individual (if you think of it this way, we are a species, with a behaviour pattern just like any other species that we study); everything we think has been thought before. The only difference would be the context (i.e. the modern, or post-modern, society we live in). When we ‘express’ or ‘create’, we are working with a certain set of tools that are set and established - it is the different combinations that make it ‘individual’ or ‘new’, but nothing is a work/statement in and of itself, but is based upon, dependent on and understood in relation to everything that came before it and exists alongside it, and will be in the future with what will come. For a literary example, here’s a definition from Allen:

“The meaning on an author’s words does not originate from the author’s own unique consciousness but from their place within linguistic-cultural systems. The author is placed in the role of a compiler or arranger of pre-existent possibilities within the language system. Each word the author employs, each sentence, paragraph or whole text s/he produces takes its origins from, and thus has its meaning in terms of, the language system out of which it was produced.” Intertextuality, p. 14

Very complicated stuff, which led to Ronald Barthe’s article ‘The Death of the Author’, the death being in recognition of the author being no longer the sole ‘authority’ on his/her text’s meaning. Its meaning is dependent on the language, phrases, words, structure, conventions etc. that compose the text. But it is not so much literature that I am interested in here, but this ‘linguistic-cultural system’.

M. M. Bakhtin was a Russian theorist, who was only fully appreciated and brought to light by French theorist Julia Kristeva in the 1960s. Both himself and the Swiss theorist Ferdinand de Saussure are the fathers of intertextuality, as their theories about the system of language prompted the concept, but it is Kristeva that coined the term. Without going too in depth, Bakhtin revolutionised the way in which we see language, as he put it that language exists in specific social situations and that it is understood in specific social evaluations. Language is social, whereas ‘utterance’ (the human-centred aspect of langauge) is individual. The individual does not construct language - it is a system that we are born into, that has a life and an existence in and of itself, but is reflective of the society that uses it. As Allen explains:

“Language is always in a ‘ceaseless flow of becoming’. Language, seen in its social dimension, is constantly reflecting and transforming class, institutional, national and group interests. No word or utterance, from this perspective, is ever neutral. Though the meaning of utterances may be unique, they still derive from already established patterns of meaning recognisable by the addressee and adapted by the addresser.” Intertextuality, p. 18

These established patterns are ‘the manner in which language embodies and reflects constantly changing social values and positions.’ (ibid.)
This is all very complicated and confusing, I think, if you haven’t read these quotations in the context of the whole book, but this last quote prompted me to think about language in terms of the Irish language. I like this ‘ceaseless flow of becoming’ idea, as I can see that Gaeilge is in fact in a flow of ‘becoming’. There is evidence that shows a shift in the users of the Irish language in recent times - more and more people in cities are learning and using the language on a daily basis, whereas the amount of people using it in the Gaeltacht areas, its area of original context you might say, is decreasing noticeably. Irish is swiftly entering a new urban, modern context, which becomes even more fresh as it is young people who are increasingly using the language, both adopting and adapting it into their social life. In terms of intertextual relations, one has to question the affect that being brought up in another language has on the use of another language, because I would see different languages as having separate systems, with differnt signs and symbols. For example, if you were brought up in English and you learn to speak Irish, does this mean that the Irish you speak is technically a different language? I’m going to become really frustratingly deep here, but I’m asking if the signs and symbols from language A (English) affects the way you use language B (Gaeilge). A Dublin Irish-speaker has their own way of using the language, whilst a Conamara Irish-speaker has another way. (And there are rows over these disparate usages!) The Irish language is growing, adding to itself modern terminology that is borne out of English-language concepts; but Irish has been doing this for centuries, acquiring words from Latin and French for example. In this way, as Bakhin suggested, Irish is changing and ‘becoming’ more modern, because it is now being used in a society that has undergone a radical change of mindset in the past two centuries, and even more so because it is being taken out of a rural context into an urban one. Added to the rich tapestry of the Gaelic culture and literature (be it oral or written) is now European expressions, maybe even Eastern expressions, New World expressions, which is borne out of the fact that Irish language is now co-habiting with different cultures in a cosmopolitan, urban area. As Allen says,

“The most crucial aspect of language, from this [Bakhtinian] perspective, is that all language responds to previous utterances and to pre-existent patterns of meaning and evaluation, but also promotes and seeks to promote further responses.” Intertextuality, p. 19

I like to think that this idea of language, in terms of the Irish language, is reflected in the modern use of Gaeilge; the Irish language will always be understood in terms of the past utterances and respond to these utterances in its own tradition, but it will also promote further responses in relation to its new urban surroundings and encounters with different languages and cultural mindsets. What I am saying is that there is no way that Irish is a dead language (a debate still argued that makes me yawn), because we can see that it is in ‘a ceasless flow of becoming’.

Fuisce

2011-06-28T20:45:00.001+01:00

D’oscail mé féirín
tugtha dom uait
fada ó shin;

D’oscail mé ribín
a cheangal tú
led’ lámha láidre.

Rois mé an páipéar
curtha le chéile
go deas mín agat:

Le loinnir óir-bhuí
d’fhuair mé buidéal
d’fhuisce Éireannach;

Cén chaoi a bheadh
a fhios a’t go n-ólaim
fuisce Albanach anois?

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2010

Pluma

2011-06-28T20:43:00.001+01:00

Ag feitheamh ar fhreagra uait,
breathnaím ar an bpluma
a thug tú dhom -
d'éirigh sé níos feoite
i rith na seachtaine
a thit eadrainn.

Ní bhfuair mé blas uaidh,
cé go raibh an seans agam.

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe

"Beuldhath" - aistriúchán go Gàidhlig

2011-06-28T20:42:00.001+01:00

Bha colainnean mu m' thimcheall,
dealbhan bàna do mo chorp balbh a mhealladh,
an àilleachd ar tòir
mo shùilean – bha mi nàireach,
cridhe reòta am measg teas nan òg.
‘S an sin thàinig thu thugam
le do bheul dì-nàireach dearg
gu mo bheul-sa a smeuradh
le pòig; agus pòg eile.
Chum thu m’aodann nad làmhan,
‘s le do mheòir grinne
rinn thu oidhirp gus
an smeur dearg a ghlanadh –
ach dh’fhàg thu smàl orm.

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe & Teàrlach Quinnell 2010

Béaldath

2011-06-28T20:41:00.002+01:00

Bhí colainneacha im' thimpeall,
deilbheacha ban dom' chorp balbh
a mhealladh, a n-áilleacht ar thóir
mo shúile - bhí mé náireach,
croí reoite i measc teas na n-óg.
'S ansin tháinig tú chugam
le do bhéal dínáireach dearg
chun mo bhéal-sa a smearadh
le póg; agus póg eile.
Choinnigh tú m'éadan id' lámha,
's le do mhéara néata
rinne tú iarracht
an smearadh dearg a réiteach
- ach d'fhág tú smál orm.

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2010

Comórtas Uí Néill - Cuairt na bhFilí Albanacha

2011-06-28T20:39:00.002+01:00

Bhí cara nua liom le Gàidhlig aige, Teàrlach Quinnell, gearrliostaithe i gComórtas Uí Néill, a bhí ar siúl i gCois Teallaigh ar Shráid Chill Dara dé hAoine seo caite. Níor bhuaigh sé an duais, ach ní rud tábhachtach é seo - chuir sé a chuid filíochta amach san atmaisféar, á roinnt le filí eile na hÉireann agus na hAlban, ó Ghael go Gaeil. (Is Sasanach é, ach pé scéal é - is Gael é ina anam.) Bhí Caitríona Ní Chléirchín ag glacadh páirte sa chomórtas chomh maith, i ndiaidh seachtaine gnóthaí caite aici ag an gCúirt i nGaillimh. Tar éis dian-staidéir a dhéanamh ar fhilíocht na hAlban mar chuid dem' chúrsa (ó Shomhairle MacGill-Eain go Meg Bateman), bhí mé ag tnúth leis an bhfilíocht a chloisteáil i bhfuaimeanna Gàidhlige, agus dearcadh eile a fháil sa nua-fhilíocht á scríobh acu thall in Albain. Agus ní raibh díomá orm.

Bhí Somhairle MacGill-Eain mar scáil chairdiúil tharainn ag an ócáid, lena chuid filíochta agus grianghrafacha de mar chuid den taispeántas atá ar siúl ag Comhdháil Náisiúnta na Gaeilge i gCois Teallaigh faoi láthair, ag ceiliúradh an chaidrimh idir Éire and Albain. B'iad Aonghus Pàdraig Caimbeul agus Bríd Ní Mhóráin moltóirí an chomórtais seo, agus bhain mé an-sult as a gcuid filíochta féin, agus an chaoi a spreag siad na filí óga chun misneach agus bród a bheith iontu féin agus iad i mbun scríbhneoireachta chun a véarsa féin a chur le traidisiún saibhir na Gaeilge agus na Gàidhlige araon. Bhí amhránaíocht againn ó Joy Dunlop, bean an-spraoiúil agus í ag caint, an-mothálach agus í ag casadh amhráin nó poirt, agus ceol ar an bhfidil ó Shona Masson (d'fhoghlaim sí an fhidil nuair a bhí sí 9 mbliana d'aois, agus is saineolaí í anois!). Leigh Pàdraig MacAoidh a chuid filíochta nua féin (agus sraith véarsaí de chuid Rody Gorman le haghaidh an chomórtais, toisc narbh fhéidir leis a bheith ann), agus roinn sé dán neamh-chríochnaithe de chuid Shomhairle MhicGill-Eain ag oscailt an chomórtais, rud a bhí an-cumhachtach dom mar leantóir mór de Shomhairle! Bhraith mé go raibh sé inár bhfochair. Bhronn na moltóirí an duais ar Phroinseas Mac a' Bhaird, dála an scéil, dá dhán 'Bróga', léite amach ar bhealach a bhí an-corraithe ag Ríona Nic Congáil, toisc nárbh fhéidir leis a bheith i láthair ach oiread.

Bhraith mé go raibh mé tar éis freastail ar ócáid thar a bheith tábhachtach agus mé ag caint le Teàrlach agus le Scott de Buitléir i gclub Chonradh na Gaeilge nuair a bhí an comórtas thart. Táimid uilig ag tnúth go mór leis Cuairt na bhFilí Albanacha a leanúint ar aghaidh agus a fheabhsú sa todhchaí, agus go mbeidh níos mó comhoibrithe idir Éire agus Albain as seo amach; tá an traidisiún agus an oidhreacht céanna againn, ag deireadh an lae. Measaim go bhfuil níos mó comhthuisceana eadrainn ag teastáil, agus níos mó spéise ag Éireannaigh i stair agus cultúr na hAlban a spreagadh. I dtraidisiún fhilíocht na hAlban, faightear Albanaigh ag breathnú siar go hÉirinn mar lár-ionad na nGael, ach ní bhreathnaíonn na hÉireannaigh ar ais go hAlbain; ba chóir gur coimeádadh teangmháil eadrainn. Bhí sé íorónta go raibheamar ag brath ar an mBéarla chun na hÉireannaigh/Albanaigh Gaeilge/Gàidhlig a thuiscint ag an gcomórtas - bhí mé ag ceapadh go raibh an Béarla mar Shruth na Maoile eadrainn! Cén chaoi a d'éirigh muid chomh scartha óna chéile?

Ar ais chuig an bhfilíocht; ceapaim go bhfuil an-cuid le foghlaim ag filí Éireannacha ó fhilí Albanacha. Nílim ag caitheamh anuas ar fhilíocht na Gaeilge, is aoibhinn liom í, ach i ndiaidh an dian-staidéir a dhéanamh ar na filí Albanacha, táimse den tuairim go bhfuil caighdeán níos airde acu, ó thaobh íomhánna, stíle agus teanga de. Ceapaim go mbaineann an caighdeán seo le tionchar Shomhairle MhicGill-Eain - cé gur chruthaigh sé filíocht nua-aimseartha agus nithe nua as a thaithí féin, ag tarraingt tionchar ó litríochtaí eile isteach chun filíocht níos domhanda, níos nua-aimseartha a chruthú, bhí sé i gcónaí dílis dá thraidisiún féin, go háirithe do thraidisiún na hamhránaíochta a bhí chomh saibhir i measc a mhuintire fhéin. Agus bhí tionchar mór ag Somhairle ar lucht a linne agus ar fhilí a tháinig anuas ina dhiaidh, agus tá tionchar uaidh fós ar fhilí nua ár linne, ar ndóigh. Braithim, mar sin, go bhfuil an bearna idir an sean agus an nua i bhfilíocht na hAlban níos cúinge, agus go bhfaightear litríocht níos leanúna ann.

Ba chóir go mbeadh mé ag rá go bhfuilimid in ann an-cuid a fhoghlaim óna chéile - tá traidisiún filíochta, amhránaíochta agus ceoil láidir saibhir againn, agus táim ag súil go mbeidh muid in ann é a roinnt le chéile.

Haiku - Blossoms

2011-06-28T20:35:00.000+01:00

'An Appointment with Mr. Yeats' - The Waterboys and the Poetry of W.B. Yeats

2011-06-28T20:33:00.003+01:00

I was a very lucky recipient of generosity that allowed me and my best friend to attend the first night of ‘An Appointment with Mr. Yeats’ in the Abbey Theatre last night. This artistic project of The Waterboys, Mike Scott and Steve Wickham, sets twenty poems of William Butler Yeats to music, thus giving the arch-poet’s words a new lease of life. Mike Scott himself has had a long artistic and spiritual relationship with the poet, as is apparent in the symbolism of his own lyrics and the free pagan spirit of The Waterboys’ early albums. I like to think that Mike Scott is a freer reincarnation of the poet, an unrestricted spirit of dramatic beauty and mysticism that is synonymous with the young darkling Yeats before he affected the mask of burning gold. I would also add to the balance a touch of Jack Yeats, with a freshness and more earthy sensuality; Sligo personified.

On entering the theatre, the audience was met with a darkened stage and a hypnotising spiral in a circular display screen on the backdrop. In my seat (four rows from the front in the centre) I got a gentle waft in incense from backstage. The theatre was PACKED with people from all walks of life, full of anticipation. Finally, the theatre darkened and disembodied waves and music was heard. After a period of impatient waiting and heightened expectation, band members began to come onstage one by one, as their instrument entered the music. Then Mike Scott bolted onstage, and straight up to the mic, and launched into the first syllables of “The Hosting of the Sidhe”, accompanied by a fitting tumultuous horse-galloping beat. Following this was “News for the Delphic Oracle”, and “The Song of Wandering Aengus”. After three songs from this mind-blowing arrangement, Mike began to relate to us his love for Yeats’ poetry finding collections of his poetry in his house when he was young and how he always felt drawn back to the poems, and grew in his understanding of the poems through the years. Reminding the audience of the historical background of Yeats’ role in the foundation of the Irish Literary Theatre, later the Abbey Theatre, Mike told us how honored he felt to be performing the world premiere of his project on the Abbey stage.
What struck me most about the ‘setlist’ of Yeats poems was how Mike worked with many of the less familiar Yeats poems (like “The Mountain Tomb” and “Sweet Dancer”), and how the eternal favourites were arranged in a fresh and completely unexpected (like “Down By the Salley Gardens” and “September 1913”). The two most striking songs of the repetoire were “Mad as the Mist and Snow” and “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”. “Mad as the Mist and Snow” is a musical delight, as if it was a tune stolen from the fairies themselves. This was the most energetic and theatrical performance, with Steve Wickham himself frolicking like a fairy-fiddler, wearing a crow mask (a nod to his other Sligo-based band No Crows), engaging in a musical duel with bemasked trombone player Blaise Margail. I like to think Yeats would have fallen back in love with his early lyric “The Lake Isle of Innisfree” (as he in later years reacted against this poem, and hated reciting it) as it was well and truely revitalised as a Blues song, which is indeed fitting to the theme of the poem.

Mike Scott spoke about his interest in the mystical side of Yeats, and explained Yeats’ interests in mysticism, the Occult and Rosicrucianism. He told us how he would search through academic biographies on Yeats’ life, trying to find out more on Yeats’ experience with mysticism and the supernatural, and how he was always disappointed in their treatment of this side of Yeats. Following this introduction, the circular display screen on the backdrop changed to a clock, which ticked towards midnight as “The Four Ages of Man” was performed; on the clock striking twelve, the screen changed to a starry, astronomical sky, and Mike and co. performed “Before the World Was Made”, which blended into a section from “The Second Coming”, proclaimed by Mike from a theatrically-sized book.

A particularly resonant arrangement is Mike’s blending of two poems from Yeats’ plays, “They Will Be Remembered Forever/Let the Earth Be Witness”. The political power of verses from the play Kathleen Ní Houlihan are used in the context of the modern political struggle in Iran. The video of this song and images from Iranian protests can be seen on You Tube here. (These images were played behind Mike’s solo performance with guitar on the backdrop display.)

The poem which Mike referred to as “the last track on Yeats’ final album”, “Politics” was a beautiful arrangement, and we were happy for it not to be the last song of the night, as they followed it with “The Song of the Last Fairy”. The band bid us goodnight, at which we stood up in clamourous applause, giving them a standing ovation - I beheld Mike’s combined expression of relief and surprise as he mouthed “Thank You”. They left the stage, leaving us clapping and whistling enthusiastically - we knew they would be back out (they hadn’t performed “The Stolen Child”). On returning, Mike and co. gave us a rendition of “A Song of Rosy-Cross”, which blended seamlessly into the frolicking tune of “The Kings of Kerry (aka “Hye Diddley-Eye”) from the Room to Roam album. We remained on our feet from this point until the very end… I cannot convey the joyous yips from the audience on our hearing the glimmering piano of “The Stolen Child”, with an elfin Sarah Allen on the fairy-flute (of the Anglo-Irish folk band Flook). It was a truely soulful, magical moment of the night. We were fairly happy with our lot, though saddened at the thought that the night was over… But it wasn’t! On leaving and returning again, the veil between this world and the world of fairy was lifted once more with the pagan celebratory “Bang the Drum” from the This Is the Sea album. Mike dedicated the last song of the night to WBY himself - “The Whole of the Moon” - the words of which I always associate with Yeats. The energy was something else, of sheer humanity and something spiritual - I would say we reawakened Yeats’ spirit! There was an added spark when The Man Himself appeared before our very eyes - WBY! The final moments of the gig were heightened by the presence of the Poet himself, in video footage on the backdrop display. In stately gait, Yeats descends steps towards the camera, peering behind round spectacles into the camera; just as he gestures towards the camera, the footage is frozen, and he remained ‘on stage’ with the band members as they took their final bows and received their tumultous applause.

After the majority of people had left the theatre, my friend and I sat in ecstatic contemplation on what had just been undertaken, meditating on Yeats’ image on the backdrop until it was switched off and we were nearly thrown out! Re-emerging onto the streets of Dublin, we felt that we had partaken in a huge séance, in a huge moment in artistic history, or in a seisiún ceoil of fairies and humans alike. To be really corny, the only conclusion that we could come to was that we saw the whole of the moon.

Haikiú - Spideog

2011-06-28T20:28:00.000+01:00

Haiku - Barn Owl

2011-06-28T20:27:00.000+01:00

Toy Box 2010

2011-06-28T20:26:00.003+01:00

I received my copy of 'Toy Box 2010 - a compilation of English and Japanese poetry' in the post last Wednesday. I was really excited when I saw the envelope with beautiful Japanese stamps of Geisha and Samurai. I had been exchanging e-mails with Ashida Minori (aka 'Yuka', with her full name being surname first according to Japanese custom) since last September. She approached me after the students' poetry reading of the Yeats Summer School (2009) in Sligo, where I had read out a few of my haiku. I was flattered when she told me that she liked them, and asked for my contact details. She then informed me briefly about her project, and gave me a copy of her previous edited booklet of poetry.

Yuka then began sending me e-mails, asking if I would be interested in adding some of my haiku to her project, another booklet of English language and Japanese poetry, translated from one language to the other. I was delighted at such an opportunity, and for the next few months we sent drafts to one another, correcting mistakes and writing a short profile of the poet, i.e. myself, for the back of the book. Yuka translated my haiku, and I was very excited when she sent one of the final drafts with the originals and their Japanese translations beside them. I sat and picked out the Japanese characters for my name, and for the words in Irish and placenames in Sligo.

The finished product is beautiful. Edited by Ashida Minori (Yuka) and illustrated by Hashizume Sayaka, it contains the poems and haiku of Japanese poets, and poets from China, America, Canada and Hawaii, and myself from Ireland. (I've just realised that I'm the only European representative, which is an honour!) The compilation is in three sections, the first being 'Poem Travels' from Japanese to English, the second 'Poem Travels' from English to Japanese, and the final section 'Haiku and Tanka', which features five of my haiku, two of which are in Irish. Mine are the only contributions of haiku. (I must look into the Tanka form and try my hand at it...)

I must say that it is an honour for my first publication of haiku in a Japanese publication, and for them to be translated in the original language of haiku, Japanese. Haiku in Irish compliment the early Irish nature lyrics, or dánta dúlra, and that is what I find so appealing and relevant in haiku. The Japanese seem to show a great interest in Irish literature and culture - there is always a representative from Japan studying at the Yeats Summer School, and they even have their own Yeats Society in Japan! Yeats himself showed a keen interest in Japanese culture, through the influence of Ezra Pound, and wrote two of his plays (At the Hawks Well and The Death of Cuchulainn) in the ancient Noh form of Japanese drama. Folklore studies is very popular in Japan, as they have a rich culture of folklore - maybe Ireland will begin to show an interest in Japanese culture and folklore as the Japanese show in ours...

My haiku that are included in the compilation have been posted on this blog, and my blog in Irish before - 'At Tobar an Ailt', 'Haiku as Gaeilge' aka 'Eala Óg Bródúil', 'Lá Gaofar', 'Sligo Summer' and 'Vixen'.

Haikiú - Plúiríní Sneachta

2011-06-28T20:24:00.001+01:00

Amhrán an Mhic Léinn

2011-06-28T20:23:00.000+01:00

Ba chóir go mbeadh mé gafa
le mo chuid léitheoireachta -
ach táim ag scríobh píosa filíochta
ag cúl mo leabhar critice.

I rith na deireadh seachtaine
(ar shos ó chéim na máistreachta)
bím ag ól fíona rua, agus
spreagann sé dáin go héasca asam.

Nuair atá cúpla deoch ionam
sileann línte as Gaeilge asam -
ní bhíonn gramadach ar m'intinn
mar cuireann an t-ól misneach ionam!

Ceapaim go bhfuilim go hiontach
agus fonn aerach meidhreach orm,
ach caillim mo mhisneach
nuair a éirím níos stuama...

Tá an draíocht thart, tá orm stopadh -
tá uafás oibre le déanamh agam!
Oíche dé Domhnaigh atá inti
agus tá ranganna le hullmhú agam!

21 Feabhra 2010

(píosa spraoi, cumtha sa teach tábhairne le fíon agus ar ais sa mbaile ag mo dheasc níos stuama!)

Haikú - Scamaill

2011-06-28T20:21:00.000+01:00

Solas na gréine
ag sileadh óir ar scamaill -
talamh na ndéithe.

The Souls of Flowers - Pagan Musings

2011-06-28T20:18:00.005+01:00

When a flower dies is it the same flower that grows back again the following year, or is that a new flower? Where does the dead flower go? What is the point of its existence for such a short period? It's adorable as a sprout, then it's beautiful as a blossom, and then it dies. Does a flower have a ghost? (I recall that Yeats wondered this.) Is that why people believe in reincarnation? The old flower dies but is reborn in a new blossom the following year?

Are people like flowers? You get a particularly beautiful blossom and then it dies. What is the point of a particular beauty and what happens to it in death? Is it merely a beautiful memory, and goes on to give its force to future blossoms? Is there such a thing as individuality in death?

How come flowers get to live their lives out fully? ...Unless they're plucked. When someone dies young and beautiful, is that them being plucked by some unseen hand? They're plucked because they're more beautiful than other blossoms, with a stronger fragrance.

Do surrounding flowers mourn a lost fellow blossom? When they die, do they meet with their old friend again?

Ironically, we pluck loads of flowers in their prime when we offer them to our own dead as a sacrifice. We bury someone young with young beautiful blossoms - do they join our friend in the next life?

Nature shows some continuation and renewal after death/Winter. In this way, is Nature showing us that there is an existence after death?

(Written March 2009)

Haikiú - Sneachta

2011-06-28T20:16:00.001+01:00

Tá an Nollaig thart,
ach tá blúire sneachta fágtha
ar fud na tíre.

Haikiú - Crainn

2011-06-28T20:15:00.000+01:00

Crainn lom álainn ann
os comhar spéir úir earraigh,
ciúin sa chlapsholas.

White Memories

2011-06-28T20:12:00.000+01:00

Lisa Hannigan, Vicar Street, 3 Nollaig 2009

2011-06-28T19:15:00.002+01:00

Bhí an t-ádh orm agus ar chara liom a bheith i Vicar Street oíche Déardaoin seo caite agus Lisa Hannigan ag seinnt. Bhí cnaipí agus pátrúin fuaite ildathach ar fud na háite, a chuir a halbam Sea Sew inár n-aigne (chriotáil Lisa clúdach a halbaim lena mam agus d'fhuaigh sí liricí dá hamhráin air chomh maith). Is duine ildathach í Lisa féin, mar bá léir óna soilsí agus ón mbeacán bearaigh ag lonrú in aice lena maidhc, agus tháinig sí ar an stáitse ag caitheamh gúna seanré (d'oibrigh sí i siopa éadaí seanré nuair a bhí sí níos óige). Is duine gleoite páistiúil í Lisa, ag caint ós íseal mar chailín óg cúthalach, agus breathnaíonn sí mar bhábóg ghleoite ina cuid éadaí. Bhraith an stáitse mar sheomra leapa leis na soilsí luaite cheana féin agus an túis lasta in aice leis an ndrumadóir; chomh maith leis sin, is ionad an-cheanúil é Vicar Street, agus dúirt sí go raibh sé deas a bheith ar ais san ionad "is fearr in Éirinn", ina focail féin.

Measaim go bhfuil Lisa níos fearr ag casadh amhráin beo ná mar a chas sí ar an albam féin.
Ná tóg an bhrí mí-cheart uaim - bíonn an t-albam ag seinnt ar mo sheinnteoir dlúthdhioscaí chuile lá! Is é an t-albam is mó a sheinnim i mo sheomra leapa agus ar m'iPod, ní bréag é sin. Agus atá sí ag seinnt beo, tá fuinneamh agus cumhacht inti agus ina guth; bíonn a corp iomlán ag bogadh leis an gceol timpeall uirthi agus ag teacht uaithi féin. Seinneann sí an lán uirlisí cheoil; an giotar agus an bainseo, chomh maith le huirlisí aisteacha, mar shampla an armóin agus an 'melodica'. Píosa beag de chuile rud. Rinne sí staidéir an an gCeol i gColáiste na Tríonóide sular ndeachaigh sí ag canadh le Damian Rice. Is léir go bhfuil dlúthchaidreamh aici lena banna ceoil, go pearsanta agus nuair a bhíonn siad ag cruthú ceoil le chéile - tá siad ag súgradh ar an stáitse, ag cruthú ceoil agus craic dóibh féin chomh maith leis an lucht éisteachta.
Nuair a chasann sí a chuid amhráin beo, cuireann sí saol nua iontu. Cur i gcás, an t-amhrán 'Courting Blues'; is clúdach amhráin é cheana féin, de chuid Burt Jansch, agus chruthaigh Lisa é mar a hamhrán féin. Chas sí é ar an gclár Other Voices sa bhliain 2006 agus tá an t-amhrán forbartha níos mó aici ar a halbam. Ach, ba léir ar an Déardaoin seo caite go raibh sí ag déanamh triail eile leis an amhrán, toisc go raibh sé i bhfad níos cumhachtaí agus níos fórsúla ná mar a bhí sé. Is amhrán tréin é ar an albam, le mothúcháin tréan gan saoirse, ach leis a thuilleadh uirlisí cheoil ar an oíche bhí sé cosúil le clagarnach báistí agus toirneach. Draíochtúil. Tá amhrán eile ar an albam, 'Teeth' nach dtaitníonn sé go mór liom de ghnáth, ach bhí sé níos fearr beo ar an oíche. Rinne sí clúdaigh d'amhrán traidisiúnta 'Blow the wind southerly' dá mam, ag leanúint ar aghaidh le meafar na farraige coitianta ar a halbam. Is féidir léi aon shórt amhráin a chasadh, chun na fírinne a rá, tá stíl chomh eicléictiúil aici.

Chas sí amhráin nua; chuala mé ceann nó dhó acu cheana féin ar You Tube ("Brolly Beats" agus "Passenger"), agus mar sin bhí mé ag canadh in éineacht léi. (Greannmhar nuair a smaoiníonn tú air - sise ag rá go bhfuil an t-amhrán nua, agus an fonn agam cheana féin!) Bhí ceann nua nach raibh cloiste agam, agus níor thug sí an teideal dúinn (dúirt sí linn nuair a thug muidne bualadh bos don nuacht faoin amhrán nua: "Might be shite!"), ach fuair mé cúpla líne de na liricí - "We spoke without a word between us" agus "you're all salt and storms" (bhain mé an-sult as an dara liric, chuir sé duine áirithe i m'aigne - is cur síos an-éifeachtach é!). Is liriceoir den scoth í, ag baint úsáide as ghnáthrudaí mar mheafair agus sí ag cur síos ar ghnáthrudaí agus ghnáthmhothúcháin... Tá sé deacair a mhíniú, ach tabharfaidh mé sampla nó dhó duit - "We came up on Ohio/I have you chewed on like a biro/you are a sum I am no closer to deciphering" agus "I spoon you into my coffee cup/I spin you through a delicate wash/I wear you all day". Tar éis a bheith ag cloisteáil lena amhráin nua, táim ag tnúth go mór leis an dara albam, caithfidh mé a rá.

Ciarán Ó Con Cheanainn

2011-06-28T19:09:00.002+01:00

Ciarán, th'éis dó an Corn Uí Riada a bhuachan

Is cuimhin liom an chéad uair a bhuail muidne le Ciarán, agus muidne sa dara bliain. Tháinig fear óg le héadaí galánta dubha isteach sa seomra, agus dearg ina leicne. Fear an-óg cúthaileach a bhí ann, le cuma óigeanta soineanta, agus ag an am sin bhí a cheann bearrtha. Chuir muidne Ciarán i gcomparáid le Shayne Ward mar sin, agus bhí muidne i gcónaí ag canadh a chuid amhrán as Gaeilge nuair a chonaic muidne Ciarán ar son grinn. Ní raibh a fhios againn ag an am sin go raibh guth níos áille ag Ciarán ná Shayne Ward! Sa chéad rang sin, “Logainmneacha agus Sloinnte”, chuala muidne an Ghaeilge ba bhinne dár chuala muidne riamh ó bhéal Chiaráin – agus Béarla uasal cosúil le Shakespeare chomh maith! Níor chreid muid go bhféadfádh fuaimeanna chomh éagsúil teacht as aon duine amháin! Ba chainteoir den scoth é.

De réir mar a chuir muidne aithne air, bhí sé soiléir gur léachtóir cabhrach agus spreagúil a bhí ann, agus gur fear gaoismhéar os cionn a aois é. Mar a dúirt Yeats, féileacán is ea gaois, agus bá é an cás sin le Ciarán. Bhí an-eolas aige ar léann na Gaeilge, go háirithe ar oidhreacht na Gaeilge, agus ar an traidisiún ársa, agus spreag sé spiorad na Gaeilge ionainn. Níor chreid muidne é nuair a chonaic muid Ciarán ar TG4 ag an Oireachtas, agus bhí bród orainn nuair a bhuaigh sé Corn Uí Riada. Bhí guth den scoth aige agus é ag canadh, guth glórach agus ceolmhar. Ba laoch umhal é nuair a tháinig sé ar ais chugainn anseo, le cuma nua inspioráideach air. Bhí sé ag siúl timpeall UCD mar is gnáth, agus an guth eisceachtúil sin aige!

Ní féidir liom a chur i bhfocal an scanradh agus an phian nuair a chaill muidne Ciarán. Is mór an scrios é dúinn go pearsanta, do chúrsaí Gaeilge, cúrsaí léinn agus do chúrsaí ceoil. Ach, tá a spiorad fós linn-se, inár gcroíthe agus inár gcuimhní. Bhí sé sa sneachta ag titim ar an lá a bhuail muidne le chéile sa Seomra Caidrimh agus sa séiplín, agus bhí sé sa ghrian ag taitneamh agus i nguth na n-éan lá a shochraide i gConamara. Leanann an saol ar aghaidh, agus leanann na rudaí a bhí tábhachtach do Chiarán ar aghaidh; beidh an Ghaeilge fós á labhairt, agus beidh na hamhráin a chas sé fós á casadh. Leanfaidh muidne ar aghaidh ag foghlaim na n-ábhar a mhúin sé. Las sé inspioráid agus misneach ionainn chun oidhreacht na Gaeilge a chur chun cinn; mar sin, níl sé caillte ar chor ar bith. Ba phribhléid agus onóir é Ciarán a bheith againn mar léachtóir, agus ba mhór an bheannacht dúinne é Ciarán a bheith inár láthair ag tabhairt inspioráide dúinn.

Breathnaigh ar an bhfíseán seo in ómós do Chiarán

Vixen

2011-06-28T19:04:00.000+01:00

Sligo Summer

2011-06-28T19:01:00.001+01:00

At Tobar an Ailt

2011-06-28T19:00:00.000+01:00

Tree at Tobar Nalt

Tobar an Ailt (or Tober Nalt) is a holy well in Sligo with the originally pagan practice of tying ribbons/material to the tree beside the well as a prayer offering or ritual of sympathetic magic; this way the tree takes on your prayer and heals any illness.

The Drive

2011-06-28T18:56:00.000+01:00

The Hungry Rock

Sligo has to be one of the most inspiring places I've ever been; the environment seems to encourage and nurture poetry. Sligo itself is a landscape of mythology and folklore, which seems to talk directly to you, narrating its own stories. The locals are full of folklore too. I wrote this after my friend Declan Foley brought myself and fellow poet Earl Livings on the drive up through the Ox Mountains. We originally set off looking for the Hawk's Well (which was featured in the Yeats play), but gave up and just wandered instead. Folklore about the Hungry Rock says that if you pass it while you are hungry, you will be forever starving!

"The Drive"

Winding and curving, we venture
By car towards the Ox Mountains -
"The oldest mountains in Europe";
Our driver narrates the adventures
Of the landscape's lineaments.
The site of Cath Maigh Tuireadh,
Where once two battles raged -
Two mythic races engaged in
Combat, over land and power.
Over yonder towers Cnoc na Sí,
The "Hill of the Faeries" - I
Wonder what faery king or queen
Occupies the cairn on top, or
If faery troops dwell within...
That other cairn on Cnoc na Rí
Of the fiery Queen Meadhbh,
Still fiercly facing Ulster
In defiance from the grave.
Does the ghost of Conall Gulbain,
That hero of Tír Chonaill, still
Sprint swiftly up the steep side
Of the iconic Beann Ghulban?
It's shaped like the snout of the boar
That killed Diarmaid Mac Duibhne
At its feet, so ending the hunt
For he and his love Gráinne;
Their beds are still in Ceathrú Mhór...

From mythology to folklore -
We pass by the Hungry Rock,
Luckily with bellies full
Or we'd be doomed to eternal
Starvation! But cows graze beneath
In the shadow of the rock -
Are they insatiably hungry?
Looking out the car window
In this moment, I'd love
To stroke the land as I'd stroke a cat.
The wind breathes clean, and suddenly
A random bath-tub in a field.
A parliament of rooks on a roof,
Manifestations of the Mór-Ríogan,
Who straddled the river Uinsinn.
Amongst this epic landscape
Lie neglected houses, abandoned
For modernity, thatched
With forgotten roofs, rotten.
The waters of the Hawk's Well
Evade us, as they did
The old man in the Yeats play.
We leave it for another day,
And head back to Sligo town.

Lúnasa|August 2009

© Alison Ní Dhorchaidhe 2009

Eala Óg Bródúil

2011-06-28T18:48:00.000+01:00

Eala óg liath
ag snámh ar an Life,
é ina aonair.