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Still I'll rise

 

Stones older than memory

 

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From the errors of others

 

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Irish Pirate Queen

 

Inspirational: Kahlil Gibran

 

He was called "filthy" because his skin was dark, unintelligible because he could barely speak English. When he arrived in this country, he was placed in a special class for immigrants. But, a few of his teachers saw something in the way he expressed himself, through his drawings, through his view of the world. He would soon master his new language.

His mother had made a difficult decision to take him, his two younger sisters and a half-brother to America, seeking a better life for their family. They settled in Boston's South End, at the time the second-largest Syrian-Lebanese-American community. The family would struggle and the young boy would lose one sister and his half-brother to tuberculosis. His mother would die of cancer.

He would write, “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

He was born in poverty on January 6, 1883 in what is now modern day Lebanon.

He believed in love, he believed in peace, and he believed in understanding.

His name was Kahlil Gibran, and he is primarily known for his book, "The Prophet." The book, published in 1923, would sell tens of millions of copies, making him the third best-selling poet of all time, behind Shakespeare and Laozi.

Published in 108 languages around the world, passages from "The Prophet" are quoted at weddings, in political speeches and at funerals, inspiring influential figures such as John F. Kennedy, Indira Gandhi, Elvis Presley, John Lennon, and David Bowie.

He was very outspoken, attacking hypocrisy and corruption. His books were burned in Beirut, and in America, he would receive death threats.

Gibran was the only member of his family to pursue scholastic education. His sisters were not allowed to enter school, primarily because of Middle Eastern traditions as well as financial difficulties. Gibran, however, was inspired by the strength of the women in his family, especially his mother. After one sister, his mother, and his half-brother died, his other sister, Mariana would support Gibran and herself by working at a dressmaker's shop.

Of his mother, he would write:

"The most beautiful word on the lips of mankind is the word 'Mother,' and the most beautiful call is the call of 'My mother.' It is a word full of hope and love, a sweet and kind word coming from the depths of the heart. The mother is everything – she is our consolation in sorrow, our hope in misery, and our strength in weakness. She is the source of love, mercy, sympathy, and forgiveness."

Gibran would later champion the cause of women’s emancipation and education.

He believed that “Safeguarding the rights of others is the most noble and beautiful end of a human being.”

In a poem to new immigrants, he would write, "I believe you can say to the founders of this great nation. 'Here I am. A youth. A young tree. Whose roots were plucked from the hills of Lebanon. Yet I am deeply rooted here. And I would be fruitful.'"

He would write in "The Prophet":

“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

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● THE PROPHET ●

Do not live half a life

and do not die a half death

If you choose silence, then be silent

When you speak, do so until you are finished

If you accept, then express it bluntly

Do not mask it

If you refuse then be clear about it

for an ambiguous refusal is but a weak acceptance

Do not accept half a solution

Do not believe half truths

Do not dream half a dream

Do not fantasize about half hopes

Half the way will get you no where

You are a whole that exists to live a life

not half a life. ~Khalil Gibran

(Book: The Prophet)

 

From Old Mind on FB

BELLA

 

In the golden light of dawn on a brisk April morning in 1912, a small, determined cat named Bella scurried along the cobblestone streets of Southampton. Bella, a sleek tabby with emerald eyes, had been a beloved fixture on the RMS Titanic, a ship hailed as the pinnacle of human engineering. She had quietly boarded in Belfast, finding solace in the ship's warm engine rooms and the gentle hum of the massive engines.

Bella, unlike many, was not merely a stowaway; she was a cherished member of the Titanic's crew. Her days were spent chasing shadows and sunbeams through the grand corridors and lavish staterooms. At night, she would curl up in a cozy nook beside the ship's boilers, where the rhythmic thrum of the engines lulled her and her newborn kittens into peaceful slumber.

The ship's crew, particularly a kind-hearted stoker named Edward, had grown fond of Bella. Edward, a burly man with a soft spot for animals, had taken it upon himself to ensure Bella and her kittens were well-fed with scraps from the ship's kitchens. His affection for the feline family had grown so strong that he often found himself sneaking away from his duties just to spend a few moments with them.

As the Titanic prepared for its maiden voyage, an air of excitement and anticipation filled the ship. However, for Bella, something felt amiss. Her feline instincts, sharper than any human's intuition, sensed an impending doom. One serene evening, as the ship lay anchored in Southampton, Bella made a decision that would alter the course of her life.

With a heavy heart but unwavering resolve, Bella began the arduous task of moving her kittens. One by one, she carried them in her mouth, descending the gangplank onto the chilly Southampton docks. Edward, witnessing this unusual behavior, felt a chill run down his spine. He watched, perplexed and worried, as Bella ferried her kittens to safety, away from the ship that had been their home.

As the final kitten was placed gently on the cobblestones, Bella paused, her gaze lingering on the Titanic's towering silhouette against the starry sky. It was as if she was saying a silent farewell to the grand vessel that had been her sanctuary.

Edward, torn between duty and a gnawing sense of foreboding, made a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He decided to follow Bella's lead. Gathering his few possessions, he disembarked the Titanic, his heart heavy with an inexplicable sorrow.

Days later, as news of the Titanic's tragic fate reached Southampton, Edward realized the magnitude of Bella's intuition. The ship had sunk, taking with it the hopes and dreams of many. But Bella, with her extraordinary perception, had saved her little family – and in doing so, had also saved Edward.

Years later, Edward, now an old man, would often recount the tale of Bella, the Titanic cat. His eyes would sparkle with a mix of sadness and admiration as he spoke of her instinctual wisdom that fateful night. Bella's story, a blend of mystery and miracle, became a legend among the seafaring folk of Southampton – a poignant reminder of the unsinkable spirit of a mother's love.

 

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Hy-Brasil

 

We are granted a life

 

Irish Telltown Games

 

Hollywood Stone

 

Lost connections between Ancient Ireland & Egypt

 

Biddy Early & her Magic Blue Bottle

 

South African shipwreck: The Paquita

 

Priceless

 

The Night of the Big Wind

 

The Night of the Big Wind

Óiche na Gaoithe Móire

January 12, 1839

The “night of the big wind” or as it is known in Irish “Óiche na Gaoithe Móire” was one of the worst storms ever recorded in Ireland leading to many deaths, mass homelessness, and apocalyptic levels of destruction around the entire country. The power of the storm and the resulting damage was so intense that people ascribed supernatural origins to it, with some believing that it was Divine retribution, and others thinking that the fairies were to blame.

The storm itself occurred on the night of the 6th of January (the 12th night/feast of the epiphany/Nollag na mBan) and the early hours of the 7th in 1839. The devastation of that night would be passed through the generations, with people recounting it to the next generation whenever a storm would break out.

The day started with snowfall, but throughout the day the temperature would rise by 10 degrees leading to the day becoming unnaturally warm and clammy by some accounts. A number of people noted that there was a sense of foreboding in the air and that there were ominous, motionless clouds and an unnatural absence of wind. As the evening pushed on, rain and hail started and the wind amped up in intensity from about 10pm onwards. The rudimentary weather measurements available at the time recorded extremely low barometric pressure, ideal for extreme winds, earlier in the day.

First-hand accounts of the event paint a picture of the absolute terror that must have been felt by people. One man, who was only a boy at the time tells how his brothers struggled to rescue all the animals before the outhouses collapsed around them. He tells us how the sound of the wind from that night stuck with him his entire life and that it was so loud that adults had to shout directly into each other’s ears for any hope of hearing each other. Other accounts tell us that it sounded like “a continuous peal of thunder” or the “bellowing of ten thousand bulls”. We can only imagine how terrifying this would have been, especially to a child.

The Newry telegraph was one of the first to report on the damage on the 8th and even though the full extent of the damage was unknown it reported that several ships and boats had been wrecked with a number of lives lost, houses decimated and unroofed, stacks of turf (the main source of fuel) destroyed, stored crops wrecked, livestock dead or missing and centuries-old trees uprooted (10,000 alone on the Ballymeyer demesne). In many cases, people lost everything.

To paint a picture of the conditions in the country at the time. The population was roughly 8.2 million (today it is 5 million) and the majority of houses were mud-walled thatched cabins, with an estimated 2 million people living in sod/mud cabins (like this). If you think of the fact that even the “big house”, stone churches, and castles were damaged, the ramshackle houses of the lower classes stood no hope at all. As you can imagine, the thatched houses brought their own problems. The wide chimneys and thatch were a disaster waiting to happen and fires broke out in many townlands, with varying degrees of destruction. More rural areas fared better than towns in this regard due to the houses being further apart. Loughrea suffered terribly with 87 homes being completely destroyed. The whole town might have been lost were it not for the wind suddenly changing direction. One policeman trying to help to quell the conflagration, received serious burns to the eyes from red-hot ashes blowing into his face. It’s hard to imagine the terror of the roaring winds, the screaming and abject terror and the pitch black of the night being broken by roaring fires and buildings falling around them. Outside of the losses to fire, 600 people in the area were left destitute. Many had to flock to churches and police stations in the following days for shelter. It was said that as a result of the storm “manys a one who lost their fortune and manys a one who found it” owing to the fact that many people kept their savings either stashed in the thatch roof, or in the chimney. For those unlucky enough to lose it, there were others who were unscrupulous enough to make their own fortune by gathering up the ill-gotten gains.

The large ornate chimneys of the mansions and stately homes of the landed gentry fell prey to the unnatural winds. Many deaths were a result of falling masonry and it is estimated that almost 5000 chimneys were knocked throughout the country (houses big and small). Some people were even forced to find shelter by hedges, hollows, and embankments. Eyewitness accounts tell how “huge limbs of oak flew like straws before the fury of the tempest”.

A number of anecdotal stories arouse out of the disaster. Herrings were said to be found 6 miles inland, supposedly carried by the winds after being pulled from the water. Salt brine was reported covering trees 12 miles inland. Waves were said to have come over the top of the Cliffs of Moher and the sound of waves crashing over was said to be heard miles inland, so loud that it could be heard over the thunderous roar of the wind itself. A canal was said to be stripped dry of water by the force of the wind. A pig was said to be carried a quarter of a mile and found safe and well stuck in a tree. And, given the vast destruction of trees and destruction of birds’ nesting and roosting spots (and the mass death of birds) the following spring was said to be almost devoid of birdsong. A massive tree was uprooted in a Carrick Fergus graveyard, bringing “many of the dead to the surface”. An account from one area claims that the damage was so bad that it was the “big wind” that was the impetus for emigration and not the great hunger that would follow only a handful of years later. sand dunes formed from sand carried inland appeared in numerous areas. One account tells how years later while preparing to build a new house, an entire house was found 8 feet below the sand, having been entirely subsumed by the sand dunes.

As you could imagine, given the widescale destruction, it would come as no surprise that supernatural forces were blamed. Some gave divine retribution as a cause and that it may be a signifier that the world was about to end. The great scholar John ó Donoghue was spending the night in a hotel in Glendalough while carrying out fieldwork for the ordinance survey. As he survey the damage the following day, he remarked that the whole country looked like it had been “swept away by a broom” (ó Donovan was intimately familiar with Irish manuscripts, so I have to wonder if he is referencing Irish eschatological belief here, a tale where a giant broom will sweep the world clear on doomsday). Others ascribed the disaster to the sídhe (the fairies). A few different versions of this exist: invading fairies fighting Irish ones, massive groups of different factions fighting each other, or that it was the fairies finally leaving Ireland on magical tornadoes. An account in the national folklore collection tells us that a local spot normally associated with fairy music has been silent since.

The estimated damage done (in today’s money) is somewhere around the 250 million mark. The death toll is uncertain but is estimated at between 300 to 600 people. Thousands were left homeless, and many were injured. Stones were erected in some towns detailing the damage done. Interestingly, when the old age pension was introduced in 1908, the age of the people applying for it was determined by if they were alive at the time of the big wind.

Image: Schipbreuk op een rotsachtige kust, Wijnand Nuijen, ca. 1837

Sources: IRELAND FOLKLORE AND TRADITIONS

‘Night of the Big Wind’, Frank Watters, Journal of the Pontzpass and District History Society, 1994 (pp.73-82)

Irish Weather Online

‘The Calm Before the Storm’, Irish Times, 16th Oct 2017 NFSC, Vol.0313:0569; NFSC, Vol.0185:0569; NFSC,Vol.0909:288; NFSC, Vol.0186:364; NFSC,Vol.0113:376

(From Celtic Bard Jeff on FB)