Personal Blogs

Rùn-mòr (Scottish Gaelic) – A secret longing or 

 passion that quietly defines a person’s path in life.

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Echoes of Heritage: A Journey Through Music and Memory

In 1974, when I was in my late teens, I found myself at a crossroads. I shook off the friendships from my youth in search of something different. With no qualifications from school, I attended Cardonald College in Glasgow, aiming to gain the credentials needed to enter university.

During this transformative time, a chance encounter led to a significant pivot in my journey. One day, a man noticed I was watching a Scottish Gaelic programme on TV. The following week, he handed me a cassette of a Gaelic group called Na h-Òganaich (The Young Ones). I played it repeatedly, immersing myself until I could sing some of the Gaelic. This newfound interest soon led me to Runrig’s Play Gaelic album. Pardon the pun, but it felt like I was on a rocket to the moon. Those early experiences remind us that youth is a time of serendipity—someone hands you a cassette, and suddenly, something deep takes root in your soul, living with you eternally.

This nostalgic wave washed over me again last night when I attended a Runrig tribute concert performed by Beat the Drum at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall. The audience, a gathering from the length and breadth of the UK, Ireland, and Europe, likely shared their own stories of how the Hebridean culture had influenced their lives.

Throughout the years, I've always felt a twinge of frustration about why destiny chose to drop me in Govan, Glasgow rather than the Hebrides. Now, in my later years, I've come to terms with being an outsider looking in. Yet, there's something profound and inexplicable that tugs at the edges of our consciousness, urging us to explore the realms of our heritage and the profound impact of music on our lives.

I mused on all this  as I watched Donnie Munroe, the former Runrig vocalist, traverse the rugged landscapes of Skye on a programme called Wilderness Walks. Skye was the place where he was raised. In an interview set against Skye's sweeping Cullins, Munroe spoke about the deep connection between music and the human soul. He recounted a poignant episode from Runrig's history—a concert in Ireland during the turbulent years of the Troubles.

The morning after the concert, a Catholic woman approached the band and blessing them. She shared a moving anecdote: her family had attended the concert, and upon returning home, the strife that often pervaded their lives was momentarily forgotten.

This story resonated deeply with my own journey with Runrig’s music from my early years. Despite being raised in Glasgow, far from the Hebridean islands where the language thrived. Over the years, my fascination only grew, leading me to visit Skye, Islay, and Jura. Each visit felt like a homecoming, a sensation that puzzled me until I delved deeper into my lineage.

Recently, curious about any ancestral connections, I submitted my DNA for analysis. The results were startling: 90% of my genetic makeup rooted in Celtic origins, including Brittany in France. Even more astonishing, my paternal line originated from Islay, adding another layer of personal history to lands that had always felt inexplicably like home.

These revelations have led me to ponder the mysterious ways in which our roots, and the cultural legacies of music and language, call to us. It may be easy to dismiss these connections as mere coincidences, yet I cannot shake the feeling that something deeper is at play. Perhaps it is the same force that inspired Munroe to speak so passionately about the soul-stirring power of music, or the same pull that guides a wandering soul back to ancestral lands.

As I reflect on these experiences, I am increasingly convinced that threads of destiny are woven into our lives, subtly guiding us back to our origins and resonating through the music that moves us. In these moments of connection, whether through melodies that touch our hearts or the lands that call to our spirits, we find a profound truth about our existence—there is indeed something deeper going on.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CxhOoGE130

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The Donnie Monroe discussion

YouTube. (2025) Wilderness Walks. [Online video]. Accessed on 8 February 2025. Available from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcPsINH-Ptc

Image by https://unsplash.com/@jeremypstewardson

Good Morning Gàidhealtachd! I Like That Word Dùthchas

I woke today in a semi-conscious state with the sound of Duncan Chisholm's burning violine on Runrig's Proterra. It's a sound deeply embedded and has made a firm pathway in consciousness and it sends the shivers up my spine. It takes me to a place, but I do not know where.

I was raised up in a shipyard town of Govan, Glasgow to the sound of pop-rivets, angry hammers and shifting steel that made vessels that sailed the seven seas. It was the sixties, and it was a place of dark corners where ungroomed dogs salvaged scraps from the bins, and rats scurried in the dark, incognito, but leaving their footprints. It was a place where there were better places to be raised.

It never felt like home. In fact, nowhere felt like home. Perhaps it was the fact that my mother had us moving around and I subsequently attended five primary schools before entering secondary school.

At 15 years old I left school and got a job in the Co-op. But my friend started with Caledonian Mac Brayne on a supply vessel called The Dunvegan (I think) that sailed from Glasgow to Stornoway. Apart from him earning more money than me, I envied the lifestyle. The places he travelled to like Stornoway, and the stories he related to me, made the places feel like home.

I lost contact with Tom in the course of time and have never heard of him since.

Some years later, an older man gave me a cassette tape of Na h-Òganaich. I never understood Gaelic, but there was something drawing me to the Hebrides. Then came Play Gaelic by Runrig. Malcom’s guitar on "Sunndach” created that island and isolated feel that brought a sense of Joy in me. I played the cassette repeatedly. The Islands felt like home. Runrig has played a part in my life that is so difficult to internalise. I am not alone. The Runrig concerts were filled with Germans, Scandinavians, Americans, and travellers from all over the globe. I guess something runs deeper Perhaps it is summed up with the German word Fernweh: homesick for a place one has never been to.

Are we Destined For Another World?

C.S. Lewis had much to say about sunndach, or Joy,

"Joy is distinct not only from pleasure in general but even from aesthetic pleasure. It must have the stab, the pang, the inconsolable longing.”

Perhaps this inconsolable longing in me and others is a small glimpse of what could be. Some of us will never be Gaels, but one day we will be a united family.

Jesus answered him, "Truly I tell you today, you will be with me in paradise." Luke 23:43

Dùthchas: This word reflects a person's hereditary connection to a place, community, or culture. It includes notions of heritage, belonging, and the responsibilities that come with it.