Tosaíonn ár dTuras

Our Journey Begins

Maidin fhluich a bhí ann, it was a wet morning as nine of us set out at nine o’clock in the morning to draw inspiration from that most sacred and significant of sites, Tara, to get reacquainted with our language using the landscape as a tool to draw inspiration from. So many a word as Gaeilge must have been spoken on that very hilltop throughout the ages and we certainly felt the cumhacht den tíre as we gathered together for Ár Chéad Comhrá in what we hope will be a successful initiative.

This will not be a long article. It’s more a thank you to the wonderful people who made the effort to come out so we could put our Gaeilge to the test and hear it brought to life once more as a living language. It is also a call to arms for the next one! Please join us and help us grow it. In the coffee shop, something magical happened. Two of our cainteoirí líofa (fluent speakers) were yapping away when a third person — who I assumed was part of our group — joined in the discussion as Gaeilge. When we took our coffees outside he followed us and continued the Comhrá. All the while I was still oblivious, until he said “are you starting a group? I’d like to join”.

I nearly fell over when I realised he had just stumbled upon us accidentally and overheard us conversing in Ár dTeanga Dúchais and decided, “I’ll have a bit of that!” Now I don’t know this man from Adam, or indeed his politics or general opinions on anything, just as he was blissfully unaware of who I was, so this confirmed for me beyond all doubt, that I was on the right path and this was an initiative that had the potential to bisect the divide — now a chasm — of the artificially created left and right. I will concede (as I always try to do after some time to reflect) that I got sucked back into the division recently, after successfully decoupling myself for a good while from the real political sword drawing. Primarily due to the introduction of the hate crime legislation that I fought so hard against with We The People, which provides a pathway to a Minority Report style punishment for thought crime.

It was infuriating — if not wholly unexpected — to see the fascists of Fine Gael introduce a legislative pathway for criminalising our tongues. As an artist, this is most abhorrent to me that it could even be a consideration, but of course we know there are numerous other driving factors at play. The sight of interlopers using our flag as a prop after merely running through my city also angers me greatly. This can sometimes result in, (me being someone who is fuelled by a passion for this country) the anger boiling over to the point where moments of weakness may inevitably ensue.

This morning however was a tonic. An escape from all that — and the interaction with the man (whose number was taken by one of the ladies in the group) was for me concrete proof that this is the way forward. A non divisive means to restore cultural Ireland to act as a safety net when the artificial corporate entity inevitably collapses. I love this country with every single fibre of my being. I hate to see it belittled in any way. I also hate the poor Paddy mentality. The sense of self loathing that tolerates all this lunacy. I still love the kindness and decency of the Irish people, but my god can they infuriate me at times. There’s a fine line between being a good person and a mug and the Irish sadly routinely cross it. I’m still — and always will be — a proud Irishman who has never viewed this land through the false prism of mediocrity perpetuated by RTÉ. So it hurts me like a dagger through the heart when I see my fellow countrymen so demoralised and so willing to accept all this nonsense that we could put an end to tomorrow, with the proper will and intention.

I’ve realised though that they have been crying out for something to make them feel a sense of pride. Our beautiful language should be a source of pride, not shame. The shame comes from the fact that we haven’t (thus far) managed to successfully revive it. Until now. I’m going to focus much of my energy and efforts in this area henceforth (our music also), because there must be a reference point for who we are as the lines become increasingly blurred. Our language, I’m becoming more convinced (to the point of obsession) is the clear demarcation line between us and the globalists.

One of the ladies recited a beautiful poem as Gaeilge about a flower that survived at the top of Sliabh Leag in Donegal. Chuireann sí gliondar i mo chroi (She put joy in my heart), because it in essence, described us as a people; to a tee. The only thing keeping the flower from being destroyed by the elements was draíocht na farraige (the magic of the sea). As that bláth beag was kept alive by the sea, we Muintir na hEireann are beginning to feel draíocht na tallamh (the magic of the land) and she is calling to us to reclaim her.

The serendipity of the meaning behind this poem and the (at the time) unrelated recital of it in tandem with the random Comhrá with the nice stranger as Gaeilge, is enough to confirm for me that something is happening. The land is fighting back — and all the mother goddess asks in return, is that her children respond.