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Glory O, Glory O to the bold Fenian men?
I've really started to wonder why songs about the 1916 Easter Rising in Ireland are always making me cry. Sure, The Foggy Dew and Down By the Glenside are beautiful and touching tunes, but still...
I do not generally support bloodshed, even if it was in the name of liberty.
Nor am I a Republican or a nationalist of any kind. If I hear songs or tales about the Finnish War of Independence (or alternatively, Civil War or The Great Mindless Bloodbath), I'm mostly thinking something like "Bloody stupid idiots" or "I'm supposed to care?". So I couldn't give a damn about Mannerheim & co., but if I hear a song about Pádraig Pearse and his Fenians, I'm bawling like a baby? Odd.
I should probably watch that The Wind That Shakes the Barley someday to get a better picture about that whole era and see if my opinion about the Irish War of Independence and the Civil War is really any different than my opinion of the Finnish ones. Somehow I doubt it. Bloody Sunday's (both of them, really) nothing to be proud of, after all. IRA be damned.
But... If you'll allow me to venture into the realm of mystical mumbo-jumbo again for a moment...
If I think about that dream-vision-thingy I've had for I don't even know how long, the one with the young woman standing on a moor by the stormy sea (in moonlight, no less), clearly mourning but also determined, I suppose the imagery fits the beginning of the 1900s... (But then again I've always thought it's somewhere in Western Ireland, maybe in Connacht or somewhere near Clare in Munster, judging by the steep cliffs.)
Ah well, who knows... Maybe some past incarnation of me did live in Ireland circa 1916, or maybe earlier. Maybe not at all and I'm just imagining things. But it would kinda explain a lot.
Or maybe it's just the magic of the Irish music, as those people can sing about anything and make it the most heart-wrenching song ever. But strangely enough it's still this verse of The Foggy Dew that usually makes me cry the most:
"Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go, that "small nations might be free";
Their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves or the fringe of the great North Sea.
Oh, had they died by Pearse's side or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the foggy dew."
And these as well:
"Oh the bravest fell, and the Requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the spring time of the year.
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few,
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew.
As back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more.
But to and fro in my dreams I go and I kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled, O glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew."
As I said: odd. *shakes head and wipes tears*
I do not generally support bloodshed, even if it was in the name of liberty.
Nor am I a Republican or a nationalist of any kind. If I hear songs or tales about the Finnish War of Independence (or alternatively, Civil War or The Great Mindless Bloodbath), I'm mostly thinking something like "Bloody stupid idiots" or "I'm supposed to care?". So I couldn't give a damn about Mannerheim & co., but if I hear a song about Pádraig Pearse and his Fenians, I'm bawling like a baby? Odd.
I should probably watch that The Wind That Shakes the Barley someday to get a better picture about that whole era and see if my opinion about the Irish War of Independence and the Civil War is really any different than my opinion of the Finnish ones. Somehow I doubt it. Bloody Sunday's (both of them, really) nothing to be proud of, after all. IRA be damned.
But... If you'll allow me to venture into the realm of mystical mumbo-jumbo again for a moment...
If I think about that dream-vision-thingy I've had for I don't even know how long, the one with the young woman standing on a moor by the stormy sea (in moonlight, no less), clearly mourning but also determined, I suppose the imagery fits the beginning of the 1900s... (But then again I've always thought it's somewhere in Western Ireland, maybe in Connacht or somewhere near Clare in Munster, judging by the steep cliffs.)
Ah well, who knows... Maybe some past incarnation of me did live in Ireland circa 1916, or maybe earlier. Maybe not at all and I'm just imagining things. But it would kinda explain a lot.
Or maybe it's just the magic of the Irish music, as those people can sing about anything and make it the most heart-wrenching song ever. But strangely enough it's still this verse of The Foggy Dew that usually makes me cry the most:
"Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go, that "small nations might be free";
Their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves or the fringe of the great North Sea.
Oh, had they died by Pearse's side or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the foggy dew."
And these as well:
"Oh the bravest fell, and the Requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the spring time of the year.
And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few,
Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew.
As back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more.
But to and fro in my dreams I go and I kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled, O glorious dead, when you fell in the foggy dew."
As I said: odd. *shakes head and wipes tears*
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Mutta viskin jätän tosiaan muiden ryypättäväksi. :p
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I've had some wonderful discussions with a long-time friend of mine about past lives. She could name certain countries long before she knew how to talk. And one of her most typical nightmares has always been about people marching past her window, a strong leader ordering them to find her. When Hitler's name was brought up during the history lessons, she just started feeling sick.
There are so many cases like this.
As I've probably mentioned somewhere, I've also had those dream-vision-whatever thingies, always portraying the same things; a hooded figure, candlelight, castlewalls... A strange incident also took place a few years ago in our Latin class. I was asked to translate some word, and - certainly sure about what I was going to say - I answered. In Medieval Latin. It was such an awkward moment when my teacher had to tell me that we were studying Ancient Latin...yet he too seemed to be a bit riddled about the fact that I, a total newbie in the world of Latin, suddenly spoke aloud a form of Latin that isn't really widely taught anymore.
Yeah, they might just be silly coincidences. But I can't help feeling that sudden rush of reason and sense whenever I run across ponderings about past lives.
( Damn university, when you read every possible text in English, every word you say tends to come out in a foreign tongue as well...)
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I've also thought about the so-called collective subconscious, as isn't it strange how we can know and experience things in our dreams we have no idea about in our conscious state? For example, a girl I used to know sometimes spoke Hebrew in her sleep (and I don't think I have to mention it really wasn't a language she normally mastered).
Could it be that we're subconsciously connected to the whole universe, so to speak? Or is it a "soul thing", memories of things and people you used to know in another lifetime? Or both, perhaps?
No scientist is ever going to take the "past lives" theory seriously, though. Collective subconscious they might, as it's at least pseudo-science after all. But well, who cares about them?
Hmm, I feel like an essay is forming itself in my head...
"...No land's ever claimed me tho' far I did roam, For these are my mountains and I'm going home..."
(Anonymous) 2007-09-20 08:49 pm (UTC)(link)And exactly like you, I have never felt for or related to any heros or victims of Finnish wars. Nor do I generally see anything particularly glorious or graceful in dying or sacrificing yourself for any cause or some kind of greater good. But just a thought of a Highland army in the early mist of the morning, proud and persistent, their swords ready for the last final battle, sends shivers down my spine every single time... It is quite strange and totally unlogical, but there you go.
I have not thought about that incarnation theory, for some reason the idea of previous and future lives have never appealed to me, though I really cannot think of a better explanation. Somehow it seems to me that just like with some special people, there can be connection to places,stories or anything really that goes deeper than can be reasonably explained. Perhaps our feelings also have something to do with the fact that us Finns seem to be quite lost when it comes to expressing national pride. I have met other young people from Europe and South America, who could endlessly talk about their nation's good qualities, wonderful traditions and historical accomplishments. I guess when idolizing a foreign culture we can pin our feelings of nationalism on something external and practise our patriotism in a safe way. Or something. Oh, am not sure I know what I am talking about.:)
-Maarit
Re: "...No land's ever claimed me tho' far I did roam, For these are my mountains and I'm going home
Scotland is another country whose culture I've always been drawn to. In fact, for a long time I couldn't be sure if "home" was in Ireland or Scotland, I only knew the dream-memory-thingy had something distinctly Gaelic in it.
Seeing this (http://www.geocities.com/arnheim8/jdr/warhammer/veuve.jpg) painting, called 'The Scottish Widow' actually "awoke" that thing in me, even though my vision is somewhat different.
Ah well, I suppose it's possible I've been both Scottish and Irish in my past lives, as I have a feeling that my apparent inborn 'Celticness' (I've never really felt myself Finnish somehow, but rather like I've been adopted and raised by Finns) goes much farther into the history than the early 1900s.
It's probably just that the "memory" of the Easter Rising "awoke" in me recently or something. Again today when I was in a bookstore and browsed through a Dublin travel guide while looking for a birthday present to my friend, I read a mention about the Kilmainham Jail where they held captive and executed the Fenian rebel leaders. The mere mention brought tears into my eyes. *shakes her head*
I also think you might be onto something with the idea of Finnish people being quite unable to express their national pride somehow.
But then again I've always felt like there's this kind of spiritual kinship between Finnish and Irish and Scottish people. Stubborn, superstitious alcoholics with strong sense of national identity and pride, the whole lot of 'em. ;p
Re: "...No land's ever claimed me tho' far I did roam, For these are my mountains and I'm going home
(Anonymous) 2007-09-23 10:22 am (UTC)(link)By the way, I see you are also coming to the DPP release party. I wll be there with my sister, though I am not probably going to make it to the Forum meeting. For the first time in a long time I am once again feeling excited (in a good way) about the band. I hope we are all going to enjoy the show and feel the magic once again.
-Maarit