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Nuair a cailltear teanga, déantar réab san aigne náisiúnta. Cailltear eolas an timpealleacht is eolas charntha ár sinsir romhainn. Gan cruinneas ar ár stair, ní fhéadfaimís an aimsir láithreach a thuiscint i gceart.  Mar sin de tá leigheas ag teastáil uainn.

Creidimíd go bhfuil beocht agus fuinneamh sa teanga, agus chun í a dhúísiú ná chun an fuinneamh sin a scaoileadh. Is é an bheocht inti ná cuimhní na sinsir agus an nádúr fiáin ag dhuisiú, ár ndúchas ag teacht chun cinn ionainn.

Is chuige sin a cothóimid an spás agus na gníomhaí, chun deis a thabhairt duit dul i dteagmháíl leis an fuinneamh agus fiántas lasmuigh agus laistigh.

eTHOS

éITEAS

When a language is lost it creates a rupture in the national psyche. To lose a language is to lose the knowledge of the environment and the accumulated wisdom of our ancestors, for without knowing our history, we cannot understand our present.  We are in need of a cure.

We believe that by awakening the language within, we awaken ancestral memories and the wild nature that is our heritage. 

To that end, we create a space and the activities for a person to connect with the wildness within and without.

Diarmuid Lyng

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Diarmuid Lyng's became known for his love of language and country  following the RTE broadcast of Gizzy: The Geansaí.  In it, he talked of how aversion tranformed to grá after a three day immersion in the West Kerry Gaeltacht in his twenties. Diarmuid since moved to that Gaeltacht and now teaches aireachas 'mindfulness' to visiting students. He worked as a facilitator with the SAOR foundation helping young people discover their worth and potential.  He is a former captain of the Wexford hurling team and works as a sports analyst for TG4, Newstalk and other media.  He gives hurling Master Classes ó am go chéile, preferring the beach to the pitch. He is an outspoken critic of the co-opting of culture by technology and founder of the initiative facebook free february. He is also one of the founders of GAA activist group Gaelic Voices for Change, fundraising  and lobbying for the homeless.

www.diarmuidlyng.ie

Siobhán de Paor

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Siobhán de Paor is an artist, wordsmith and mother. She creates experiential shows weaving ritual and theatre as a bard. She is exploring the anatomy of the Irish language incorporating movement with spoken word. She works as a creative tutor of poetry and theatre and expressive arts for children and adults. She is a facilitator of ceremony for the eight fire festivals of the Celtic Wheel, rites of passage and women's circles.   Although originally from the Ring Gaeltacht in Waterford, it wasn't until she landed in the West Kerry Gaeltacht seven years ago that she began to write in Irish.  She is being supported by Ealaíon na Gaeltachta to continue her art through Irish.  

www.saordepaor.com

Cearbhuil Ní Fhionnghusa

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Cearbhuil Ni Fhionnghusa is wild food forager, cook, trench digger and home schooler.  She forages wild food and makes herbal cosmetics from her small holding in the Burren.  Her workshops over the  past 10 years have inspired hundreds of people to integrate wild food and time in the wild into their daily lives. Her work was featured on RTE's Garraí Glas. 

Her latest undertaking is the Burren Wilderness Project; a vision for 3 and a half acres of the unique limestone plateau which includes foraging and plant medicine workshops as Gaeilge.  She lived with indigenous minorities in Bolivia and Colombia for five years where she learned of local medicines. She also lived and worked as a teacher and gardener in the Kerry and Connemara Gaeltachts.  She has a degree in Irish from the University of Limerick and listens to RnG everyday! She is mad for trad and plays tin whistle.

Our Mother Tongue

le Siobhán de Paor

See her there, our mother tongue

cut out, bleeding, her orphaned young

 

mewling blind to what was done

fed on worms they should have shun

 

Would you save her, if you could

Would you stave her mortal wound

 

to change the lines and make the effort

to shake the mime and break the tether

 

One by one, her places fell

to foreign forces, an English hell

 

six hundred years to the furthest reaches

beaten back to the western beaches

 

But look she stirs, the mother tongue

Inside my mouth, inside the young

 

In times like these the dead will walk

in ways like this the dead can talk

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