Fheàrr Gàidhlig bhriste na Beurla ghrinn: Confronting Mental weights
Friday, 21 Feb 2025, 10:08
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Edited by Jim McCrory, Friday, 21 Feb 2025, 11:11
Fheàrr Gàidhlig bhriste na Beurla ghrinn,"
(Broken Gaelic is better than perfect English)
Image generated by Microsoft Copilot
During
Covid, I completed a master’s degree. I have always enjoyed learning, but with
a cancer diagnosis come mental barriers, and I ask myself if it is worth
continuing to learn new subjects. There's a saying that resonates deeply with
me: Fheàrr Gàidhlig bhriste na Beurla ghrinn," or "Broken
Gaelic is better than perfect English." This adage underscores that
learning a little is better than learning nothing at all, albeit with wider
applications.
Cancer,
this unwelcome guest, robs one of vitality and leaves me with a profound
lethargy towards activities that once sparked joy. Books lay unopened, and
dreams became dormant like the books on the shelf. Yet, amidst this fog of
disinterest, a spark to learn Scottish Gaelic is ignited, fuelled by a desire
to connect deeper with my heritage.
The
Apostle Paul, in Hebrews 12:1, encourages Christians to “lay aside every
weight,” referencing the ancient athletes who ran marathons with heavy weights,
shedding them only when the race demanded their utmost speed. It’s also an apt
metaphor in my situation; after all, much can be accomplished even when
weighted with a heavy load such as cancer. The Gaelic proverb wisely notes,
even broken attempts are worthy achievements.
This
narrative is more than just about learning a language; it's about confronting
the mental weights—those self-imposed barriers of 'not good enough' that stifle
our courage to step forward. Whether it's learning a new language, picking up
an instrument, or writing the first page of a novel, there is immeasurable
value in every effort, however small it may seem.
In
facing our own races, with or without the weights of physical or mental
challenges, we must cherish each effort. Learning even a little Gaelic in the
twilight of my years, under the shadow of illness, is a testament to the
enduring human spirit. It teaches that our attempts, however imperfect, are
steps toward preserving not just a language but our very essence.
So,
I urge you—and remind myself—to chase your imagined goals, no matter how out of
reach they may seem. Raise your esteem by small acts of bravery. Feel good
about yourself through the mere act of trying, because every broken word spoken
in the effort of learning is a whisper of resilience. In these fragmented endeavours,
we find the unbroken spirit of humanity, striving ever upwards, forever
reaching beyond the confines of our conditions.
Fheàrr Gàidhlig bhriste na Beurla ghrinn: Confronting Mental weights
Fheàrr Gàidhlig bhriste na Beurla ghrinn,"
(Broken Gaelic is better than perfect English)
Image generated by Microsoft Copilot
During Covid, I completed a master’s degree. I have always enjoyed learning, but with a cancer diagnosis come mental barriers, and I ask myself if it is worth continuing to learn new subjects. There's a saying that resonates deeply with me: Fheàrr Gàidhlig bhriste na Beurla ghrinn," or "Broken Gaelic is better than perfect English." This adage underscores that learning a little is better than learning nothing at all, albeit with wider applications.
Cancer, this unwelcome guest, robs one of vitality and leaves me with a profound lethargy towards activities that once sparked joy. Books lay unopened, and dreams became dormant like the books on the shelf. Yet, amidst this fog of disinterest, a spark to learn Scottish Gaelic is ignited, fuelled by a desire to connect deeper with my heritage.
The Apostle Paul, in Hebrews 12:1, encourages Christians to “lay aside every weight,” referencing the ancient athletes who ran marathons with heavy weights, shedding them only when the race demanded their utmost speed. It’s also an apt metaphor in my situation; after all, much can be accomplished even when weighted with a heavy load such as cancer. The Gaelic proverb wisely notes, even broken attempts are worthy achievements.
This narrative is more than just about learning a language; it's about confronting the mental weights—those self-imposed barriers of 'not good enough' that stifle our courage to step forward. Whether it's learning a new language, picking up an instrument, or writing the first page of a novel, there is immeasurable value in every effort, however small it may seem.
In facing our own races, with or without the weights of physical or mental challenges, we must cherish each effort. Learning even a little Gaelic in the twilight of my years, under the shadow of illness, is a testament to the enduring human spirit. It teaches that our attempts, however imperfect, are steps toward preserving not just a language but our very essence.
So, I urge you—and remind myself—to chase your imagined goals, no matter how out of reach they may seem. Raise your esteem by small acts of bravery. Feel good about yourself through the mere act of trying, because every broken word spoken in the effort of learning is a whisper of resilience. In these fragmented endeavours, we find the unbroken spirit of humanity, striving ever upwards, forever reaching beyond the confines of our conditions.