How fluidly you compose images and flavours with meanings and pieces of land...I couldn't learn my native language Quechua, as a child, instead I did French and English. But how I yearned to speak my father's and elders tongue! Once I run secretly to the person that cleaned my great ants house and took hidden in my mouth, words like "ñawi" for eyes, and "yaku" for water. I can still see my father's shining eyes and hear his fresh laughter when I spited out my new words on his lap! Thank you for triggering these memories today.
David you've written a beautiful enticing entrance to the world of language and land. Becoming us through the liminal doorway. Conversations at a Geopoetic symposium with David Abrams had awoken this recognition that the indigenous language and land are in relationship. And to speak the language you become part of the walking dream. I've been studying scottish gaelic and russian doukhobor, trying to coax my canadian mouth into these acrobatic forms. Wishing .. I'm off to Orkney and then Argyll, and I hope I can experience this union.
I have tried learning Scots Gaelic. Now I am taking a course in Irish and feeling like a traitor till I read your piece this morning. I realize now that I am not expecting to become fluent in either language. What I am looking for is perhaps above or below or within the language. I am looking for the way the languages interact with the natural world. The way nature and language are one, unlike English. A great, inspiring read. Thank you.
I’ve been exploring my Scottish ancestry from afar, and never having experienced the landscape in person, your writing brings such a depth of feeling and understanding to a place I dream of. This latest one on language ignites a desire to listen to these Gaelic words voicing poems, and begin learning the tongue of my ancestors. Thank you for such an evocative piece. It also makes me long to hear and know the languages that were shaped by the landscape I call home in the southwestern desert of the U.S… thank you 🙏🏽
Such a lovely post. Thank you for sharing. I find other languages very hard to 'enter' and deeply respect your understanding that you will never reach the summit of this knowledge but am climbing up, nethertheless, appreciative of the ledges and other supports on the way. I have been fascinated by Gaelic since visiting the Ardnamurchan peninsular about 10 years ago. I felt like I was missing out on the spirit of the place by not being able to understand the narrative of the place names. It sounded like poetry or storytelling on an everyday magic level.
What a marvelous post, David! When I was in Ireland, we spent a day on Inishman where no one spoke English, except when speaking, perhaps to tourists. It stirred something in me, having come from ancestors in Ireland. I do remember they referred to their language as "Irish".
This post was a delight to read. After a good few years learning Gaelic from my one time home, high on the Atlantic coast of Skye, I was left adrift when my last native speaking neighbour died a year before I left. The only other person I could find to converse with, apart from the academical, was a lovely lady, fluent in the language, from the North East of England.
I too was smitten after listening to one of Sorley Maclean’s poems being read in Gaelic at his graveside. Nothing else captures the nuances, the way the hills and moors are written into every phrase. Dwelly’s has become my language companion now that I have returned to my home in East Yorkshire,as I don’t want that precious language to slip away. I will continue to stumble through its landscape as best I can.
Thank you for this beautiful post, David. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I am so pleased that you have found 'belonging'. I believe that the old ways, languages like Gaelic, story and myth are sacred. They make us who we are now, but sadly risk being lost unless we decide to remember them, as you have done. Not only when there is an occasional shiver of yearning in the heart for something we don't understand, or can't quite reach. The boundaries are a reminder of it, those who have gone before, and our connection to the land.
Thank you David for this post. I admire the way in which you weave the language of plant and rock with human language. May we remember both ways of being!
AND, I am grateful for your come back to English so I can continue to enjoy your superb writing!
the landscapes/seascapes offer language wiser than "words" when we bide our time and listen. that is what i heard in this deeply moving piece. i so appreciate your posts. thank you David.
I don't have any fancy words to describe what I felt when reading this, but your words touched me deeply. Your writing is gorgeous. Thank you for sharing it . Kat
Gaelic remains an intriguing mystery to me! Some of my roots lie in Aberdeenshire where the language has been allowed to wither further from our hearts apart from the names on a map which can either look impenetrable or are taken for granted as we repeat the names of the local landscape without thought.
What a thoughtful piece, David - I can imagine myself there with you: listening and yearning...
I have been observing how language gets used by the very young, just learning and then how it gets changed as those young grow older and learn how to use its symbols in different ways. As my grandchildren grow into their teen years, they are using it in completely different ways. One is using it to connect with his peers - and, frankly, is butchering it! The other is more artistically bent, and is more thoughtful with how she uses it. They have been raised by a mother who is in love with the English language and uses it majestically, as well as lyrically. My eyes and my heart are attuned to all the different meanings these symbols have for all of us, as well as what the influence of place and time have on them. To say we are products of our time and place is forgetting all the language we live with, too. Thank you for your writing - in English - for all of us to enjoy and soak in!
How fluidly you compose images and flavours with meanings and pieces of land...I couldn't learn my native language Quechua, as a child, instead I did French and English. But how I yearned to speak my father's and elders tongue! Once I run secretly to the person that cleaned my great ants house and took hidden in my mouth, words like "ñawi" for eyes, and "yaku" for water. I can still see my father's shining eyes and hear his fresh laughter when I spited out my new words on his lap! Thank you for triggering these memories today.
Thank you for reading, Kat, and for taking the time to be in touch with such kind words. Kind words are so much more nourishing than fancy words :-)
David you've written a beautiful enticing entrance to the world of language and land. Becoming us through the liminal doorway. Conversations at a Geopoetic symposium with David Abrams had awoken this recognition that the indigenous language and land are in relationship. And to speak the language you become part of the walking dream. I've been studying scottish gaelic and russian doukhobor, trying to coax my canadian mouth into these acrobatic forms. Wishing .. I'm off to Orkney and then Argyll, and I hope I can experience this union.
I have tried learning Scots Gaelic. Now I am taking a course in Irish and feeling like a traitor till I read your piece this morning. I realize now that I am not expecting to become fluent in either language. What I am looking for is perhaps above or below or within the language. I am looking for the way the languages interact with the natural world. The way nature and language are one, unlike English. A great, inspiring read. Thank you.
I’ve been exploring my Scottish ancestry from afar, and never having experienced the landscape in person, your writing brings such a depth of feeling and understanding to a place I dream of. This latest one on language ignites a desire to listen to these Gaelic words voicing poems, and begin learning the tongue of my ancestors. Thank you for such an evocative piece. It also makes me long to hear and know the languages that were shaped by the landscape I call home in the southwestern desert of the U.S… thank you 🙏🏽
Such a lovely post. Thank you for sharing. I find other languages very hard to 'enter' and deeply respect your understanding that you will never reach the summit of this knowledge but am climbing up, nethertheless, appreciative of the ledges and other supports on the way. I have been fascinated by Gaelic since visiting the Ardnamurchan peninsular about 10 years ago. I felt like I was missing out on the spirit of the place by not being able to understand the narrative of the place names. It sounded like poetry or storytelling on an everyday magic level.
When I was in Harris some years ago I was told that the letters of the Gaelic alphabet correspond to the names of trees. I am hoping that is true.
What a marvelous post, David! When I was in Ireland, we spent a day on Inishman where no one spoke English, except when speaking, perhaps to tourists. It stirred something in me, having come from ancestors in Ireland. I do remember they referred to their language as "Irish".
This post was a delight to read. After a good few years learning Gaelic from my one time home, high on the Atlantic coast of Skye, I was left adrift when my last native speaking neighbour died a year before I left. The only other person I could find to converse with, apart from the academical, was a lovely lady, fluent in the language, from the North East of England.
I too was smitten after listening to one of Sorley Maclean’s poems being read in Gaelic at his graveside. Nothing else captures the nuances, the way the hills and moors are written into every phrase. Dwelly’s has become my language companion now that I have returned to my home in East Yorkshire,as I don’t want that precious language to slip away. I will continue to stumble through its landscape as best I can.
Thank you for this beautiful post, David. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I am so pleased that you have found 'belonging'. I believe that the old ways, languages like Gaelic, story and myth are sacred. They make us who we are now, but sadly risk being lost unless we decide to remember them, as you have done. Not only when there is an occasional shiver of yearning in the heart for something we don't understand, or can't quite reach. The boundaries are a reminder of it, those who have gone before, and our connection to the land.
Thank you David for this post. I admire the way in which you weave the language of plant and rock with human language. May we remember both ways of being!
AND, I am grateful for your come back to English so I can continue to enjoy your superb writing!
the landscapes/seascapes offer language wiser than "words" when we bide our time and listen. that is what i heard in this deeply moving piece. i so appreciate your posts. thank you David.
Hi David,
I don't have any fancy words to describe what I felt when reading this, but your words touched me deeply. Your writing is gorgeous. Thank you for sharing it . Kat
You have given language a mind of its own. Character and personality , alive. Both tangible and intangible at the same time.
Beautifully written .
“Every language, like all living things, can thrive or wither.”
You have grouped language with nature.
Does that mean we have a responsibility to be a steward of words?
More breathtaking writing.
Gaelic remains an intriguing mystery to me! Some of my roots lie in Aberdeenshire where the language has been allowed to wither further from our hearts apart from the names on a map which can either look impenetrable or are taken for granted as we repeat the names of the local landscape without thought.
What a thoughtful piece, David - I can imagine myself there with you: listening and yearning...
I have been observing how language gets used by the very young, just learning and then how it gets changed as those young grow older and learn how to use its symbols in different ways. As my grandchildren grow into their teen years, they are using it in completely different ways. One is using it to connect with his peers - and, frankly, is butchering it! The other is more artistically bent, and is more thoughtful with how she uses it. They have been raised by a mother who is in love with the English language and uses it majestically, as well as lyrically. My eyes and my heart are attuned to all the different meanings these symbols have for all of us, as well as what the influence of place and time have on them. To say we are products of our time and place is forgetting all the language we live with, too. Thank you for your writing - in English - for all of us to enjoy and soak in!