Ein Stern ist nur ein Loch in Himmel

This is a composition I wrote a few years ago for a German Creative Writing class. It's about a time when I was very down and felt terribly alone. I thought everything was over for me but then my eyes caught sight of the morning star shining out of a heavy black sky. Looking at it, I was suddenly transported into a place of beauty and happiness where nightmares were just unfortunate untrue dreams that quickly come and go. I reminded myself that the next time darkness comes, I must just search for the morning star. A star is just a peephole into heaven.

Der Stern

Ich bin allein, nur ich und eine grosse, unfreundliche Welt voller Dunkelheit und Einsamkeit. Es gibt kein Licht. Ich habe nie so tiefe Dunkelheit erlebt. Langsam versuche ich ein paar Schritte zu machen, aber kann keinen Boden unter meinen Fuessen fuhlen. Ich versuche verzweifelt etwas zu sehen, doch ich habe nur das furchtbare Gefuhl, von einer bedrohlichen, unerschoepflichen Grube umgeben zu sein. Ein eiskalter Wind weht – es geht durch meine Kleidung und schmerzt in meinen Knochen. Ich fuehle mich wie ein kleines Stueck Eis auf stuermischen Wasser. Ich rufe ‘Hallo!’ und warte aengstlich fuer ein Antwort. Aber ich hoere nichts – nur den Wind, den durch die Nacht heult und weint. Wo sind die Menschen? Ist noch niemand diesen Weg gegangen? Wasser ist auf meinen Gesicht und ich verstehe nicht, warum ich Salz schmecke. Bis ich realisiere, dass ich weine.


Voller Angst, sehe ich auf. Meine Augen blicken der unsichtbaren Grube hoch und suchen am Nachthimmel noch einmal nach einen Sterne.

Dann sehe ich ihn. Der Morgenstern. Es beleuchtet meine Welt wie die Sonne, den Mond und alle Sterne. Es ist schoen und waehrend ich ihn betrachte, scheint es mir, als waere ich ploetzlich in einer anderen Welt.

Hier ist es hell und warm und froehlich. Ich kann Lachen hoeren und Kinder spielen irgendwo. Hier gibts keine Geheimnisse, keine versteckte Gefahr. Der Wind weht auch, aber es ist nur eine Brise, frisch und voll mit dem Duft von Blumen. Alles ist farbig, die Sonne scheint, der Himmel ist blau und ohne Wolken. Ich mache meineAugen zu, und bin zufrieden, einfach die Waerme auf meinem Gesicht zu spueren. In der Naehe gibts einen Baum mit Fruechten, und ich nehme ein; die Suesse nimmt den Geschmack von Salz weg.

Mitten in meiner Freude, erinnere ich mich nur schwach die andere Welt.Den Albtraum. Wenn ich mich das naechste Mal verloren fuehle, muss ich einfach daran denken, nach dem Morgenstern zu suchen.

Ein Stern ist nur ein Loch in Himmel.

This is a poem I wrote a while back that I really like;)

In Praise of Dreams

They whisper as I walk by,
And marvel at the strangeness of one who dares to be different.
Some laugh, "Oh, it's just her again."
Others observe me closely, and attempt to put barriers around my thoughts.
They wish to tell me what to think, but
I rebel,
And revel in the inventions of a mind that refuses to be bound.

It’s worth it to be different.
For with dreams what might be becomes what is.
Fantasy is reality.
Future is present.

A man dreams and black and white become one.
A nation dreams and East and West become one.

The thin cows eat the fat cows and the sheaves all bow to one.

They whisper, ‘Behold the Dreamer.’
What an honour.

A World of Desert Islands

In Ireland, suicide rates are sadly soaring, especially among young men. I wrote this piece in the space of about an hour one Saturday afternoon as I stared into the embers of glowing fire in my cosy sitting-room. Now to put it into practice...

I’ve never been visited one, but from photographs they look idyllic; no human beings live upon them and many are devoid of even rough fisherman’s huts. Sometimes I simply want one of these beautiful desert islands all for myself - a little patch of palm-treed land in the middle of an azure blue sea, with golden sands and beautiful sunshine all day long. There time stands still; no appointments to keep, no lectures to attend, no questions to answer, no issues to be concerned about, no people to be bothered by...ah yes, on some of these dark, wet February days when I find it hard to believe that spring time really is here, I wish I had the wings of a bird and could fly away to my special place. The place where I choose everything myself and create my ideal world - my very own desert island.

But I know I'd soon tire of it. After about an hour, I would be walking to the edge of the soft, white sand and craning my eyes to see if there was anything interesting on the horizon, any ship I could call out to, any island I could swim to and explore. I would soon be restlessly pacing in the shade under the luscious palm trees, books thrown aside, sick and tired already of my own company. Why? Because no human being is designed to be - as John Donne so wonderfully put it – ‘an island unto himself’. Human beings are social creatures. Human beings are designed to relate to each other, to be interested in each other and to interact with each other in order to reach their potential.

Desert islands. Creating your dream life. Making everything fit perfectly, eliminating any distractions, any imperfections, anything annoying; pretending that the nasty things and the awkward people just don't exist; constantly reassuring yourself that the main thing that matters in this world is your own well-being. Deceive yourself if you want and ask the insolent question 'Am I my brother's keeper, my sister’s keeper? ' The fact is - you are; you have a responsibility for the person next to you – whether it's your brother, your sister, your friend, the girl in the tutorial that no-one wants to sit beside, the sad young man in the train station with his head in his hands, the stressed out mother, the lonely pensioner on the bus who never meets anyone from Monday through to Sunday - all humans, all part of this amazing yet terrible world, all unique individuals. Would you believe it if I said - ‘You have a responsibility for your fellow man'? Because, believe it or not, you do.

All you have to do is say hello, give a quick smile, listen to a rambling story, offer a word of encouragement, be there for a laugh and maybe some tears, send a text, press a 'like' button, retweet a tweet...or maybe you could go a bit further and ask 'How are you?' Don't accept the mere platitudes, the meaningless 'I'm fine', the talk of things like sport or the weather or what happened last night on Coronation Street that evade real, honest communication. In a country where suicide rates are soaring, don't stupidly believe it'll never happen to one of your classmates, one of your friends, one of the group of guys you always hang out with. Ask the question 'How are you?' and wait for the real answer – it will come if you wait long enough.

The desert island is attractive – but just for a little while. Remember it is a desert, and remember that no - one is an island unto him/herself. You are your brother's and your sister’s keeper.

NUI Galway's SU passes No Platform Policy while Survey gives Startling Result

On the 7th November the Student Council was presented with three important motions; a motion to provide a statement of solidarity with Occupy Galway, a motion supporting a No Platform ban by the SU, and a motion regarding how SU officers present at SU council. After discussion, all three motions were passed.

The No Platform motion proposed that the SU will be mandated to automatically oppose any invitation to members of listed organisations to speak at this university. SU officers shall be prohibited from sharing a public platform with members of the listed organisations. Organisations are to be added and removed by ballot at class reps council. The listed organisations included the BNP, The National Front, Combat 18, Column 88, MPAC Ireland and Hizb ut – Tahir. After a short discussion on the motion, it was passed with an overwhelming majority of 55 – 2.

The idea of a No Platform policy originated in the United Kingdom, where it has been adopted into the Constitution of the National Union of Students; it was instituted in the 1990s to prevent members of the BNP to stand for SU elections. Some universities have decided not to endorse this policy, including the University of East Anglia and the University of Bath; the University of Durham disaffiliated from the NUS in 2010 after a cancelled multiculturalism event involving two BNP speakers led to thousands of students joining an internet campaign dubbed 'Durham University Students for Freedom of Speech'.

Essentially the policy proposes to ban members of fascist and/or racist organisations from speaking on the NUIG campus. Will O'Brien, Equality Officer, who proposed the motion, says that such a policy is essential in Ireland because 'we don't have a far-right extremist wing, and we need to do everything we can to maintain this.' He commented, 'Nothing good comes from it, it destroys countries and takes decades to get rid of.'

Dealing with accusation that such a policy violates free speech, Will said that the platform being denied is not a right but a privilege. 'It is not an entitlement for everybody. Fascism and racism are fundamentally opposed to democracy, and simply are incapable of being part of the democratic conversation.' He is adamant that it is of vital importance that such ideas be refused admission to campuses, as they bring nothing but damage and ruin.

At the Class Rep meeting, one student raised questions about how the No Platform policy connected to the idea of tolerance that is purported to be of paramount importance in today's society. She said, 'How far will this idea of banning certain speakers and organisations go? On the university campus of all places, are we not professing to provide a marketplace of ideas, free discourse and discussion? Instead of banning certain groups, we should educate students against them and then encourage them to protest and express their beliefs; instead of forbidding, we should promote the opposite to facism and racism in such a way that students will see absolutely no attraction in such ideologies. In facilitating our version of tolerance we need to be careful we are not becoming intolerant.'

A survey carried out by SIN after the meeting amongst students revealed that out of 154 students, 96% reported that their class reps had not consulted them concerning the motion. 48% said they would have voted against the No Platform proposal, which is sizeable advance on the 3.6 % who voted No at the Council meeting. One class rep reported that he received the motions on the day of the vote and did not have time to consult his class. Other reps did not receive the motions at all and were only introduced to them at the meeting.

These results put a question over the way in which the SU is carrying out its duties respecting class reps and correct student representation. There are clear administration difficulties as well as problems guaging correctly the opinion of the whole student body. The No Platform policy is a very important issue and requires substantial consideration and debate, which it unfortunately has not received in this instance.

The Parable of the Child

A young school teacher had a dream that an angel appeared to him and said, "You will be given a child who will grow up to become a world leader. How will you prepare him so that he will realize his intelligence, grow in confidence, develop both his assertiveness and sensitivity, be open-minded, yet strong in character? In short, what kind of education will you provide that he can become one of the world's truly GREAT leaders?"

The young teacher awoke in a cold sweat. It had never occurred to him before -- any ONE of his present or future students could be the person described in his dream. Was he preparing them to rise to ANY POSITION to which they may aspire? He thought, 'How might my teaching change if I KNEW that one of my students were this person?' He gradually began to formulate a plan in his mind.

This student would need experience as well as instruction. He would need to know how to solve problems of various kinds. He would need to grow in character as well as knowledge. He would need self-assurance as well as the ability to listen well and work with others. He would need to understand and appreciate the past, yet feel optimistic about the future. He would need to know the value of lifelong learning in order to keep a curious and active mind. He would need to grow in understanding of others and become a student of the spirit. He would need to set high standards for Himself and learn self discipline, yet he would also need love and encouragement, that he might be filled with love and goodness.

His teaching changed. Every young person who walked through his classroom became, for him, a future world leader. He saw each one, not as they were, but as they could be. He expected the best from his students, yet tempered it with compassion. He taught each one as if the future of the world depended on his instruction.
After many years, the results of his teaching became obvious. Almost all of his pupils had reached positions of respect and command in the world.

The Moral of the Story
For the Teacher: Treat each child as a potential world leader. Only God knows the future, yet your duty is to train up those you have responsibility for in the best way you can. Teach them respect for authority, love for each other and belief in themselves.

For the Student: Work each day with your aim as ‘World Leader’!Just as huge oak trees grow from tiny acorns, so great responsibility comes from small faithfulnesses. Learn to be self-disciplined now so that you can bring order to forthcoming chaotic situations. Practice loving your classmates today so that you can minister to the hearts of others tomorrow. Know the facts of the past so that you can improve the future.

Remember that today’s world is crying out for wise and ready leaders.

The Story of the Widow's Son

Summer is a good time for caravanning, relaxing and clearing out. Especially when there’s a Cash for Clothes shop in town. On this particular occasion however I was sorting through piles of old books, cataloguing them for a hopeful sale, which might or might not happen…In the process I found a special book which I had studied at the tender age of 15.

Sporting an off-white cover with orange arrows criss-crossing over it, its title ‘Exploring English’ gave no hint of the wonders within. At first glance its interior provoked dismay - dull pages with lines of small black type, regular instances of those dreaded ‘Dig Deeper’ questions and not a picture in sight. ‘Let’s start here!’ said my wonderful teacher and, gathering around the comforting gas heater, we began our journey into the world of Irish short stories which soon proved to be fascinating.

I think it was truly then that words alone came alive for me. I learned how a writer could create a whole world with a few adept phrases, a brief description of a passing expression, some sparse details about a rural landscape, an adjective, a name. I experienced how a half-page of print could transport me into a world completely alien to my own, where the people were so different yet so alike in their fears, loves, thoughts, feelings and actions. I realised that the best stories were the simplest - the annual journey to the beach, the father returning to his childhood home with a nagging wife and bickering children, the decision to abandon a mercenary life so that one could have time to gaze at the stars, the widow whose precious son dies trying to save a chicken…

Yes, the story of the Widow’s Son was my favourite. Despite all the literature I have since read for school exams and at university, the story of Packy has always kept its place in my mind - its endless potential and yet its inevitable ending. The widow’s son is coming home from school on his bike, clutching a newly-won scholarship, down the steep, rough hill that leads to the little cottage. His mother watches him, this son that represents all she lives for, and their main source of income, the hens, cluster around her on the dusty road, pecking and clucking. Suddenly as Packy nears the humble abode a jittery hen zigzags out in front of the speeding bike and the cyclist brakes violently. The dust blows away to reveal an unharmed hen squawking as she waddles back to the others and an inert body lying on the road. The widow runs to her son, desperately wipes the grime from his face and realises the awful truth - the impact of the fall as the boy was thrown over the handlebars killed him. ‘Why did he try to save that useless chicken?’ she wails, as the neighbours gather around.

But there was another ending to the story too. Again Packy is coming home from school, and the widow watches as he zooms down the steep hill. Again the flighty hen crosses the road at the wrong time and again there is a squeal of brakes. When the dust blows away this time, there is a dead chicken on the road and a stunned boy covered with feathers and specks of blood. The widow runs to the hen, sees its lifeless state and turns on Packy. ‘You’ve killed the best egg-layer, you ungrateful wretch! You couldn’t care less, could you? Here am I, slaving away for you to get an education from day to day and you just go and kill my prime hen…! What am I, your servant, is it? Who gets your meals, your books, your clothes, provides a home for you to live in…?’ A crowd of neighbours have gathered to silently watch this dramatic scene. They take in every word, and waves of shame cover Packy. The next morning he has disappeared and a letter eventually arrives, saying he has got a job on a trawler and will send back money every week - ‘to pay for everything you’ve done for me.’

It made me think then, and it still does. Despite different happenings, the poor widow lost her son in both stories. How often we wonder about our lives and ask that ‘What if it was different? question! We dream up alternatives and paint beautiful pictures of perfect lives and happy endings. The only One who knows the real story of our lives from beginning to end is God; there seems to us to be sometimes a way that looks just perfect but ‘the end thereof are the ways of death.’(Prov 16:25) Only ‘His way is perfect.’ (Ps 18:30)

Happenings

Right now, I am preparing for my first teaching interview! I'm slightly nervous, wondering if I will be able to perform well, but at the same time I should think that a girl who has done so many German orals should find an interview in her own language easy enough!

At the same time, I'm considering doing an MA in History with NUI Galway. I have been offered a place by the School of History and, although I was initially firmly against returning to the much-trodden grounds of Áras na Mac Léinn and the Concourse, the idea is slowly growing on me. Any situation really is what you make of it yourself, and I think that if I resolve to act differently myself, set aside silly fears and assumptions and present a friendly, open face to everyone I meet, next year could be the opposite to what last year was. So much goes on inside active, imaginative minds and if I directed some of this 'creative energy' into projects outside of myself, I may find the year more fulfilling. The course itself appeals greatly to me.

Hmm...concerning Norris and Cox, the latest news is good news. Cox did not get the Fine Gael nomination and Norris campaign has suffered a fatal blow with the discovery that he used his position as a Senator to appeal for clemency for his ex-partner who had been charged with child abuse in Israel. The race looks set to lose the Grandpa-figure who is in reality a dangerous individual. These development have been an answer to prayer; it will be exciting to see what God does next.

Next week, I head for Deutschland. Back to Bayern and all it symbolizes. It will be a time of relaxation, thoughtfulness, sight-seeing and visiting. Periods of aloneness will give me time to start thinking about a thesis, which hopefully will have some form of European educational history at its center. It will be without a doubt interesting, and I look greatly forward to it.