Ireland Speaks No Language
Ireland speaks no language I cannot hear with my heart. Sings no songs I cannot feel by their touch on my lips. Holds no love I cannot embrace with my thoughts. Ireland listens quietly, Unconditionally. ©Willeke Van Eeckhoutte, 2013, 2016 #1916 #Ireland1916 #EasterMonday #RTE1916 #Easter1916 #1916Rising #EasterRising © Willeke Van Eeckhoutte and Ireland, Multiple Sclerosis & Me, 2011-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner are strictly prohibited.
Disable Inequality
It’s been rather quiet down here. The past four to five months, I’ve been involved in disability rights campaigns and had a long much-needed Christmas and New Year’s break. I’m now back to passive campaigning in some form or another while having the flu… it’s never boring in MS-land. With the Irish election campaign in full swing, it’s difficult combining high-powered fatigue issues and other MS symptoms with the amount of advocating I want to do. The first and second are, as most of you know, difficult to tackle, the latter not acted upon enough. I’m still dedicated to writing for my blog, though, and also for the Novartis and Irish MS Society blogs. There is one thing I would like to highlight. In my belief, disability rights are something…
Whát?! 2015 in review!
The WordPress.com statistics monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for this blog. With a total of 22,599 views from 13,765 visitors in 137 countries in 2015 and with 1,857 followers so far, I cannot be any happier. Writing and posting have been slow the last few months, but I will be back soon enough with new, hopefully, inspiring and helpful content. Thank you each and every one of you who found your way to my words. Here’s an excerpt: The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 22,000 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 8 sold-out performances for that many people to see it. Click here to see the complete report.
13!
Thirteen years ago today I moved to Ireland. A teenage dream turned reality. Little did I know that 2,5 years later, my life would be transformed in a way I had never imagined. Still, there are no regrets, and where anger could have lived, none is left for two chronic illnesses that could easily have been my downfall. Not one to dwell on issues past, I never allowed myself to live in Oscar Wilde’s famous gutter for a long period. When he said, “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars,” I realise I still am that stargazer, that dreamer, someone who loves Irish history and sociology, nature and literature, photography and psychology. I also still believe in historical and moral justice, a dreamer…
I don’t miss myself
So… Rugby world cup. At last. England in a fashion faux-pas. Coin toss aside, they resembled players of Wales, China, Japan or Kyrgyzstan (Fijian, red is Fijian). Mum’s nine-day visit to Ireland now over. Visited Dublin Zoo once again. New camera making me rather shutter-slow, hence prevalent photographic bonding with rear ends of several animals. Otherwise, hardly left the house. Sniff. Thank you, MS. Living with a chronic illness is not all it’s cracked up to be. Chronic means chronic. I don’t get to choose the days, the hours, the moments. Hence, a triad of medical events in the space of twelve days now extended into a three-week period. Flu. Impatient, it could not wait to land on my doorstep before that all-important flu jab. Must remember that viruses follow…
Older, and dafter too!
Another year older today, and another year dafter too. Kookier. Most definitely away with the faeries. Never one to take myself too seriously unless needed, I am taking my new number in my stride. Having family and friends I love and who in return, seem to like me enough to give me a place in their own busy lives, is all I need to know. Asked how I ended up in Dublin, celebrating my birthday in Ireland for a 13th consecutive year, is a recurring question. The answer? The bonkers idea since age 15ish, that life in Ireland was ‘it’, a dream so titanic in size I was afraid it might never work out.
William Butler Yeats @150
William Butler Yeats: Irish prose writer, dramatist and poet; Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. 1865-1939; compiled the Oxford Book of Modern Verse. My favourite Irish author would have been 150 years today. Ireland, myself included, celebrates a man so talented, his words still touches people today. Two years ago, and on my birthday, I visited Yeats’s grave in Drumcliffe, County Sligo, Ireland. Because he was one of my favourites since my teenage years, it was a bucket-list moment that was finally realized! I wished I was in Sligo this weekend, but I’m sure I will go back before too long, especially since his house, Thoor Ballylee, has finally been opened to the public, something many fans had been asking for a very long time.