Showing posts with label meaning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meaning. Show all posts

Thursday, 24 March 2022

I wouldn’t spit on ye if ye were on fire!

There are expressions that are so colloquial even a person living in the region may not recognise them. It reminds me of my son who had been taken to a small mountain village on the island of Rhodes in Greece and was disturbed to find no one seemed to speak Greek. By now fluent in this language he found it disturbing that he could neither understand anyone nor make them understand him.  A dear friend of mine had taken him with her family to visit this remote village and was unaware of how disturbing Daniel had found each and every interaction. It turned out that particular village had a very heavy accent that even native Greeks would have found hard to follow.  This happens almost everywhere to some degree. Here in Northern Ireland, we have many expressions that are very confusing for outsiders. For example, instead of saying yes, we say aye (pronounced "I").  I remember visiting an elderly uncle, in Craigavon hospital, and having to translate for him for the local nurses who just could not follow his strong border accent.  There are many obscure expressions we use in Northern Ireland that when abroad I must remember not to use to avoid confusion.

Saying                                                         Meaning

What's the craic?                     What is going on?

Houl yer whisht                     Shut up and listen!

Boys a dear                     expression of surprise

My grandfather would greet us with this expression ("Boys a dear"), repeated two or three times when we walked into his home, and the delight in his voice as he said it was the most welcoming sound I can remember as a child.

Jammy sod                             Meaning a person is really lucky

                                                                    (usually resentfully said)

Scundered                                                    feeling disgusted and upset

Will you stop faffin about                     Would you stop messing about!

He seems dead on                     He seems a good person

We'll have a yarn                     We will have a good chat

I wouldn’t spit on ye if ye were on fire     If you were burning I would not waste my spit

                                                                     on you to put it out

I can remember an older guy in the school bus trying to chat up a schoolgirl and she responded with the devastating response “I wouldn’t spit on ye if ye were on fire” 

Would you look at that eejit     Would you look at that fool

It's pure baltic out there              It’s very cold weather out there

I'm foundered out here              I’m freezing out here

my nerves are up to high doh      I am highly stressed

Were you born in a field             Are you an animal that you don’t close doors

I fell in the shuck              I fell into a muddy ditch

I can recall visiting an aunt of mine who continued to herd cattle in the fields into her nineties and would rear grandchildren on her lap sitting beside a black range in the kitchen.  She used a massive coke bottle filled with milk with a huge teat to feed these babies and every year yet another baby seemed to replace the one that had grown.  She did have seven sons and one daughter and lived into her hundredth year.  I once remember her greeting us along the lane with a tiny muddy toddler in her hand saying she had just pulled him from the shuck!

I am absolutely boggin I am completely covered in mud/dirt

Catch yourself on! You cannot be serious!

Fancy a dander? Would you like a walk?

My father always told the story of a lad in his village who took his loved one for a daily dander.  They were engaged after 14 years of such formal walking out and to all accounts had a successful and happy marriage.  Courtship in those days was sometimes slow and steady.

Will ye quit your gurning! Stop complaining or moaning!

You better wind your neck in! I’m warning you to stop speaking like that!

 I'm dying for a poke I’d really like an ice-cream cone

When we visit a seaside town my mother, now in her 89th year, will often announce gleefully, “Shall we have a poke?”

Then, there are the particular expressions that were unique to my family.  My grandfather used these and I thought they were normal expressions everyone knew,

He’s a shit house rat The piggery had huge rats as big as cats and

                                                                were very aggressive so unscrupulous dishonest

                                                                characters that you should not trust were called this

Do you wanna grow a pig’s foot? If you don’t eat this food you will end up

                                                                growing a pig’s foot

As a child, if you were reluctant to clean your plate of food this expression would be whispered in your ear in an ominous tone by my grandfather.  I never understood the connection between not eating and the possibility of this deformity but the threat had its effect and no crumb would be left.  Rather than a long description of how healthy the particular food was this ominous prediction quickly insured no food was ever wasted.

The strange thing is that such different dialects are not only hard to follow but can lead to isolation or misunderstanding.  However, the words we use are just one aspect of trying to communicate. Almost every home has its own subtle peculiar language both in terms of vocabulary used, tone, volume and atmosphere.  Things that appear confusing to others just do not translate.  It is no wonder then that many of us struggle at times to get our message across.  Despite having the same basic language, we sometimes do not recognise the particular dialect being used.  Even when we know the dialect we occasionally don’t understand that family’s conversational norms.  Their sensitivities, their education level, the unseen conflict zones and their history of family communication. There can be no-go areas that can make a minefield into which you can stumble unaware.  This business of relating to others is a journey that real life is made of.  

There will be mistakes and misunderstandings but there is just so much to learn from this game and so much more to be gained than lost.  Everyone we meet is an opportunity that is infinitely precious if we are humble enough to see it that way.  Making communication work with others strengthens both their and our own abilities in many ways.  Having the empathy, sympathy, and insight to realise that it may not always run smoothly ensures we don’t give up at the first obstacle.  Just because we fall at a few fences does not mean we should quit the race.  It just means we may need more practice with a wider range of people over a longer time period.  Sometimes what we cannot understand with our mind, we can grasp with our heart and what we cannot feel with our heart we can sense in our soul.

“The soul has been given its own ears to hear things that the mind does not understand.” 

Rumi





Friday, 9 August 2013

Man's Search For Meaning



Celebrated Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl, was born on March 26, 1905 and remains best-known for his uplifting 1946 psychological memoir “Man’s Search for Meaning”— a meditation on what the gruesome experience of Auschwitz taught him about the primary purpose of life: the quest for meaning.  His wife died in the camp and he endured the unimaginable but managed somehow to convey magical moments in the midst of pain and loss that speak to the heart. 


Where can you run to?
With whom can you take refuge?
To whom will you look?
What country shall you live in?
In what direction shall you go?
At what hour shall you find rest?
What will become of you in the end?
To what will you be faithful?
If you find the truth will you be obedient to it?

“Woe to him who saw no more sense in his life, no aim, no purpose, and therefore no point in carrying on. He was soon lost. The typical reply with which such a man rejected all encouraging arguments was, “I have nothing to expect from life any more.” What sort of answer can one give to that?
What was really needed was a fundamental change in our attitude toward life. We had to learn ourselves and, furthermore, we had to teach the despairing men, that it did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life — daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual.”
Viktor Frankl



If the fire of the love of God is ignited in your heart
You would neither rest nor relax,
Nor be distracted or held back from divine nearness, sanctity and beauty.
Your longing soul would weep as one bereaved
Longing to determine the truth you would find no peace
Until, God lays bare the divine path before you.

“We were at work in a trench. The dawn was grey around us; grey was the sky above; grey the snow in the pale light of dawn; grey the rags in which my fellow prisoners were clad, and grey their faces. I was again conversing silently with my wife, or perhaps I was struggling to find the reason for my sufferings, my slow dying. In a last violent protest against the hopelessness of imminent death, I sensed my spirit piercing through the enveloping gloom. I felt it transcend that hopeless, meaningless world, and from somewhere I heard a victorious “Yes” in answer to my question of the existence of an ultimate purpose. At that moment a light was lit in a distant farmhouse, which stood on the horizon as if painted there, in the midst of the miserable grey of a dawning morning in Bavaria. 



“The light shineth in the darkness.”

For hours I stood hacking at the icy ground. The guard passed by, insulting me, and once again I communed with my beloved. More and more I felt that she was present, that she was with me; I had the feeling that I was able to touch her, able to stretch out my hand and grasp hers. The feeling was very strong: she was there. Then, at that very moment, a bird flew down silently and perched just in front of me, on the heap of soil which I had dug up from the ditch, and looked steadily at me.”
Viktor Frankl




PS Words in itallics are paraphrased from the Baha'i Writings