Why Writing?
All that chatter in one's brain?! Cured for me by writing down my thoughts and forcing my brain to clarify and order them. To pick the words for precision. The order of the words to clarify thinking. Perhaps this effort is a constant Socratic forum for my brain to achieve more and more.
This is Doolough (Black Lake), in An Ghleann Dhúlocha, on the road between Louisburgh and Delphi in Mayo, on a brilliant morning in May. In March 1849, at the height of An Gorta Mór, the Great Hunger, several hundred people, perhaps as many as 600, who had gathered at Louisburg seeking relief, were required to present themselves at Delphi, 10 miles away at the other end of the valley. This might be an exhausting but not unpleasant walk in the warm summer air on a well-paved road, if you’re fit and healthy and well fed, but not in winter over sheep-tracks, if you and your children are ill-clothed, destitute and starving. The bodies of seven people, including women and children, were subsequently discovered on the roadside overlooking the shores of the lake, but the estimate of the number of people who died from cold, hunger and exhaustion varies between twenty and much higher. Standing on the shores of the lake, reflecting on this occurrence, which happened one hundred and seventy six years ago, I was as horrified and, yes, angry, as if it had happened in March of this year.
From Gerard Casey on X