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.
That's very kind of you, Tracie. There is such a vast range of landscape and language ahead of you in Orkney and Argyll. You'll need a very big notebook or two :-)
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.
Thanks for reading and replying, Denise. Its common enough these days, at arts events and literary festivals but also in everyday life, to hear conversations going on just fine where one person is speaking Scottish Gaelic and the other Irish. If speakers of one variant haven't heard the other person's version at all then they struggle for a few hours - but once they've tuned in to the sounds and a few trip-you-up common words that are different there's just the most fabulous linguistic fireworks :-) Enjoy whichever song suits your ear.
Yours is a most beautiful quest too: 'ways languages interact with the natural world'. Nature and spoken sounds as one, as we (some) are one with natural surrounding. Well summarised. I felt a pang? twang? when you say 'unlike English' - yes for sure AI English simulations! However, I hold out for and steadfast by vibrations and sounds within spoken English words - those created, propagated and released in caring-connected ways. Breath-born, 'enspired' (Middle English), quite rare to find. Such rich pools for ears, heart beats and auditory pathways - still existing and vibrating beautifully - on the way .. 🕊
Deeply, profoundly, utterly understood .. vocal vibration of intricate aliveness. I am moved by your response to its shimmering reveal and by the commitment of your follow through.
Your indigenous pursuit through coming-to-knowing and respect - so that the Gaelic you companioned now settles within you, remaining alive and wild. Did it free you, likewise?
Please let me know your other writings, or audio, specifically on your Gaelic coming-to-knowing and the abiding truth and beauty of spoken sounds. As more than half of speaking involves listening, my auditory pathways thank you!
Hi Susan, thanks for all the energy and excitement reflecting back. I haven't written much else about the old languages - still plodding along the pilgrim path in an old coat and quiet reflection :-)
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!
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 🙏🏽
Thanks for reading and thanks for your kindness, Mary. Luckily these days there are lots of lovely recordings available of Gaelic poets reading their work. You might like to listen to Anna Frater and Meg Bateman, if you aren't already familiar with their voices.
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.
Thanks for your kindness, Clare. I'm sure some places, like some wise people, hold some of their stories back until they think we are ready for them. Perhaps all that really matters is that we acknowledge that places have stories of their own - and that they have the right to tell them when they wish and to whom they wish.
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 David. I have started the last few days by listening and reading along to For the Love of Language. A powerful story expressed beautifully.
Wishing you the best on your journey towards the illusory summit.
I live in Australia and am intrigued by the number and diversity of indigenous languages. In particular, that of the
Yanyuwa people, where post initiation of the young men there becomes a gender based difference in the spoken language. I am not pretending to being anything other than intrigued, but the reading of the how and why leaves you in the love of language.
That is kind of you, Mike, to take the time to listen and to respond. I can only imagine the treasure that lies in the languages you speak of. Whatever time you invest in them will be time well spent :-)
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 for reading and for being so generous, Sharon. Yes, those 'shivers of yearning' are so easily distracted by a clever meme or a shiny word. But the sacred is patient, and will wait for us, I hope.
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 am very grateful for your big bundle of kindness, sent all the way around the world. Yes, we receive so much from the land and the sea. But what if their ears are pricked for what we say in return? How carefully and lovingly must we put together a sentence or a phrase before we think to offer it to them.
Yes, yes, yes! 'Their ears are pricked' - for sure, all their sensory receptor-preceptors. I have loved to dream, for so long, about the 'language' connections, vibrational weaves between all 'other-than-human-beings' with trees, grasses, air, pools - and each with each other.
Quantum science may wonderfully discover and produce a rational language to explain what is to be felt and deeply known and held sacred .. 🕊
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.
Oh heavens, Cecibel. Those are the most beautiful memories. What a last-forever treasure they must be to you.
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 :-)
"We pull its roots out of the soil at our peril" - & we hold the mighty pen ( or pencil :)
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.
That's very kind of you, Tracie. There is such a vast range of landscape and language ahead of you in Orkney and Argyll. You'll need a very big notebook or two :-)
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.
Thanks for reading and replying, Denise. Its common enough these days, at arts events and literary festivals but also in everyday life, to hear conversations going on just fine where one person is speaking Scottish Gaelic and the other Irish. If speakers of one variant haven't heard the other person's version at all then they struggle for a few hours - but once they've tuned in to the sounds and a few trip-you-up common words that are different there's just the most fabulous linguistic fireworks :-) Enjoy whichever song suits your ear.
Yours is a most beautiful quest too: 'ways languages interact with the natural world'. Nature and spoken sounds as one, as we (some) are one with natural surrounding. Well summarised. I felt a pang? twang? when you say 'unlike English' - yes for sure AI English simulations! However, I hold out for and steadfast by vibrations and sounds within spoken English words - those created, propagated and released in caring-connected ways. Breath-born, 'enspired' (Middle English), quite rare to find. Such rich pools for ears, heart beats and auditory pathways - still existing and vibrating beautifully - on the way .. 🕊
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.
Well, India, let's just say that, like many wonderful things, it is a bit true ;-)
Deeply, profoundly, utterly understood .. vocal vibration of intricate aliveness. I am moved by your response to its shimmering reveal and by the commitment of your follow through.
Your indigenous pursuit through coming-to-knowing and respect - so that the Gaelic you companioned now settles within you, remaining alive and wild. Did it free you, likewise?
Please let me know your other writings, or audio, specifically on your Gaelic coming-to-knowing and the abiding truth and beauty of spoken sounds. As more than half of speaking involves listening, my auditory pathways thank you!
Hi Susan, thanks for all the energy and excitement reflecting back. I haven't written much else about the old languages - still plodding along the pilgrim path in an old coat and quiet reflection :-)
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!
You are very kind, Yamin. Thanks for being in touch. Yes, weaving the cloth - what a wonderful cloak we will all make together :-)
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 🙏🏽
Thanks for reading and thanks for your kindness, Mary. Luckily these days there are lots of lovely recordings available of Gaelic poets reading their work. You might like to listen to Anna Frater and Meg Bateman, if you aren't already familiar with their voices.
I’m not, thank you for the suggestions!
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.
Thanks for your kindness, Clare. I'm sure some places, like some wise people, hold some of their stories back until they think we are ready for them. Perhaps all that really matters is that we acknowledge that places have stories of their own - and that they have the right to tell them when they wish and to whom they wish.
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".
Thanks for reading again, Patricia. That is for sure a magical island.
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, Chris. 'left adrift' - what a perfect phrase for that severance from the well-spring of the language.
A lyrical gift... lovingly wrapped up in consonants ...and pauses, and obvious delight. What a gift you are and what embracing gifts you offer us.
I bow, my friend in awed gratitude, ...smiling.
Thank you David. I have started the last few days by listening and reading along to For the Love of Language. A powerful story expressed beautifully.
Wishing you the best on your journey towards the illusory summit.
I live in Australia and am intrigued by the number and diversity of indigenous languages. In particular, that of the
Yanyuwa people, where post initiation of the young men there becomes a gender based difference in the spoken language. I am not pretending to being anything other than intrigued, but the reading of the how and why leaves you in the love of language.
Than you again for your writing.
That is kind of you, Mike, to take the time to listen and to respond. I can only imagine the treasure that lies in the languages you speak of. Whatever time you invest in them will be time well spent :-)
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 for reading and for being so generous, Sharon. Yes, those 'shivers of yearning' are so easily distracted by a clever meme or a shiny word. But the sacred is patient, and will wait for us, I hope.
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 am very grateful for your big bundle of kindness, sent all the way around the world. Yes, we receive so much from the land and the sea. But what if their ears are pricked for what we say in return? How carefully and lovingly must we put together a sentence or a phrase before we think to offer it to them.
Yes, yes, yes! 'Their ears are pricked' - for sure, all their sensory receptor-preceptors. I have loved to dream, for so long, about the 'language' connections, vibrational weaves between all 'other-than-human-beings' with trees, grasses, air, pools - and each with each other.
Quantum science may wonderfully discover and produce a rational language to explain what is to be felt and deeply known and held sacred .. 🕊