(le Róislín)

Uaigneas nó Aonaracht?

I recently came across the following athfhriotal suimiúil from Paul Tillich, which set me thinking about the Irish parallels for his discussion: “Our language has wisely sensed the two sides of being alone.  It has created the word loneliness to express the pain of being alone.  And it has created the word solitude to express the glory of being alone.”

The quote raises a few questions, which I can’t really answer here.  First, what does he mean by “our language”?  Gearmáinis?  He would have spoken German in his childhood and early adult life.  Perhaps also Polainnis, given the locations where he was born and lived as a child (the Province of Brandenberg and Trzcińsko-Zdrój, formerly also known as “Bad Schonfließ, in northwestern Poland).

Aonaracht nó Uaigneas?

Tillich came to America in 1933, to escape Nazi Germany.  So does he mean English in this quote?  Was he more aware of differentiations in meaning in English because of learning it as a second (or third?) language?

Or does he mean human language in general?  That would open up the question of solitude vs. loneliness quite broadly.  What do the approximately 5999 other languages in the word indicate on the subject?But our interest here, of course, is dearcadh na Gaeilge ar an ábhar.  Ideally, this could become a great fieldwork research project, ag cur ceisteanna ar dhaoine faoina mbarúlacha.  But for this blog, will simply take a gander at the dictionary definitions and see what they can tell us.  Underlying that is my own general perception of the issue, which I never really thought of so specifically either for Irish or English before finding the Tillich quote and writing this blog.

So, the personal tack first.  If you asked me, point blank, what words I’d use for “loneliness” and “solitude.”  I’d say “uaigneas” for “loneliness” and “aonaracht” for “solitude.”  I don’t know if Tillich was trying to suggest that only English, or perhaps only German, made such a fine distinction, but if he was, we certainly find a similar distinction in Irish.  It is, like many definitions, though, a bit doiléir (neamhshoiléir) around the edges.

Each of these words, “uaigneas” and “aonaracht” has additional layers of meaning, so this is where the dictionaries come in.  Of course, a comhchordacht of every bit of Irish every spoken would be even better, but, by its very nature, most spoken language isn’t preserved.  Anyway, let’s look at each word in turn:

uaigneas, loneliness (an t-uaigneas, the loneliness; an uaignis, of the loneliness;  no plural): this word can also mean “a lonely place” (but more in the abstract than in physical terms), “the state of being alone,” and “the feeling of loneliness.”  Oh, and did I mention, it can also mean “solitude,” as in “ag siúl san uaigneas” (walking in solitude.”  Related words include “uaigneach” (lonely, lonesome, solitary, secret, haunted, unearthly, eerie, and sometimes “a lonely person”) and “uaigneachán” (a hermit or solitary person).

aonaracht, solitude (an aonaracht, the solitude; na haonarachta, of the solitude; usually no plural although it seems to me it could have one, if we’re thinking of “solitude” as “an isolated place,” as sometimes pertains, i mBéarla ar a laghad): this word can also mean “singularity” and, lo and behold, it can also mean “loneliness,” although that last meaning is probably not as prevalent for “aonaracht” today, with “uaigneas” usually filling that semantic slot.

And then there’s also “aonarachas,” also translated as “solitude,” but I’ll leave parsing out that slight difference (or is there any?) for another day.  And then there’s “aonaránacht” (solitariness), just to add to the mix!  “Aonaránacht” is based on “aonar” (one person, a lone person).  Although it is a noun, it is often used as an adjective, as in “comhrac aonair” (single combat), or in the phrase “ina aonar,” as in “Bhí sé ina aonar” (he was on his own).

So what is the conclusion, in Tillichian terms?  Bhuel, speaking broadly, “uaigneas” has more to do with emotions, and “aonaracht” has more to do with the physical state of being on one’s own.  But, like many words, there’s some overlap, and ultimately, cad a rialaíonn?  Comhthéacs, comhthéacs, comhthéacs!  That’s pronounced “KOH-hayks,” by the way, and means, you guessed it, “context.”  Is there a different sense of loneliness and solitude in Irish as opposed to other languages?  Can one be solitary but not lonely?  Can one be lonely in a crowd?  Is Irish any different from English or German, or whatever language(s) Tillich had in mind?  I’ve just presented the tip of the iceberg here for this issue, but I hope you feel, as I do, that it’s at least good food for thought.   Please weigh in on the subject if you have some barúlacha on the matter.

Agus cad faoi Paul Tillich (1886-1965) é féin?  Cén sórt duine a bhí ann?  Fealsúnaí eiseach agus diagaire ab ea é.  Tháinig sé go Meiriceá i 1933 mar bhí cuireadh aige a bheith ag teagasc ag Union Theological Seminary i Nua-Eabhrac agus bhí sé deacair dó a bheith ag fanacht sa Ghearmáin.

There are volumes by and on Paul Tillich, far more than we need be concerned with here.  But I do note, looking over some of his titles, that they would present a challenge to a translator, especially The Courage To Be and The New Being.  One could take a literal approach, of course, but would such phrases have a good “flow” and sound natural.  At any rate, that’s a rainy-if-ever day project, unless a reader wants to undertake it.  Or see if any of Tillich’s works have already been translated into Irish.

As for the final word on “solitude” vs. “loneliness,” I think for that we’ll have to ask Henry Bemis.  An cuimhin leat é?  Ó The Twilight Zone?  Eisean an t-aon duine amháin a bhí fágtha ar an domhan tar éis H-bhuama san eipeasóid, “Time Enough at Last” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time_Enough_at_Last or http://www.tv.com/shows/the-twilight-zone/time-enough-at-last-12592/)  Ach, hmmm, tá faidhbín beag againn, nach bhfuil?  Dá mba é Henry Bemis an t-aon duine amháin a bheadh beo sa todhchaí, ní bheadh muide (mar dhea) ábalta an cheist a chur air!  Agus sin ábhar machnaimh! SGF, Róislín