Love is resistance. Love is activism. Love begins where you are now, doing what you can, with what you have.
Well… September passed me by this year, and to be honest, I’m glad to see the back of it. For the first two weeks, Carys was at home sick. She spent the last fortnight in hospital. On the night she was due to come home, she had an anaphylactic reaction to a treatment. That same night, Manchán Magan left this world on adventures new that we can only guess at. I hadn’t expected any of it. I could feel myself unravelling.
But do you know what happened? When I briefly explained my absence on Insta, there was such a heartfelt wave of love for Carys that I felt quite uplifted. In the days since Manchán’s death, the outpouring of love for him has been inexorable and healing.

The powers that be expect us to be numbed by the horror all around us: the invasion of Ukraine by Russia, and the lack of useful support by European and American allies; the systematic genocide of the people of Palestine by Israel, and the lack of action by European and American allies; the dismantling of democracy in the US, where women are now known as ‘host bodies’ for unborn children that pro-lifers cease to care about once they leave the womb.
But in the midst of all this, people do not succumb to the horror; they do not become numb and malleable. They still manage to find and express their love for a sick little disabled girl, for a gentle man of peace and wisdom whose life was cruelly cut short by a disease that could not be cured.
And this is how I know that love is far more powerful than hate.
If you don’t know, Carys was never expected to be born alive. She will be 20 this year. She has been through so much, but she still smiles, still radiates happiness and joy. She is the most generous and loving person I know. Every day we have with her is a blessing. And her health has been stable for so long that we have, I guess, taken it for granted. Suddenly, we were confronted again with her fragility and transience.
When you are going through a personal crisis, it is easy to think no one cares. Sometimes, you have to reach out. You don’t have to ask for help, just let people know how you are feeling. You will be surprised by the response, the offers of help, the messages, phone calls, social media messages. I certainly was.
Manchán did not keep his illness to himself. He talked openly about it, not to elicit sympathy, but to educate and raise awareness of his condition. In doing so, of course, he opened the floodgates of love. How could he not? He has touched on so many lives, opened mouths around the world to the Irish language, ears to Irish lore and legends, hearts to Irish culture. He supported so many Irish artists, writers, creatives, and got involved in so many grass roots organisations. He found connections between Ireland and indigenous cultures world-wide. And left us with an incredible legacy of literature.



I have my own Manchán story. Imagine my surprise when I recieved the following email from him:
Just a quick note to say how amazing I think your website is. It was such an enormous help to me while writing my 32 Words book. In fact, you could potentially sue me for the amount of ideas and references I quote about the Cailleach from your work. I’m currently writing a book on landscape, and find myself bowled over so often by the quality of your writing – so many new and fascinating ideas presented so well. I’m now wrestling with a chapter on Roads and find your article on your website and on Irish Central so insightful.
That was when I wrote on aliisaacstoryteller. When I moved my writing to H A G on Substack, he posted about it on his social media, and I picked up a slew of new subscribers… thank you, if you are one of them! That is just one small example of his thoughtfulness and generousity. He showed similar support for many others.
So what do we do going forward? How do we keep the fires of love and kindness burning and shining bright fierce light into the darkness that is wreathing humankind? How do we take up the torch from those who have passed it on?
Start where you are.
Use what you have.
Do what you can.
Red Admiral butterfly and numerous pollinators are showing this ragwort in my garden very big love this summer! Ragwort was by far the most beloved and popular wildflower in my garden. You might say it is an act of resistance just growing it, as farmers are legally required to remove it from their fields. However, it is the only plant used as a nursery and food source by the beautiful day-flying Cinnabar Moth.
So of course, I’m growing it.

Would it surprise you if I said you are already doing more than you realise? Ok, so you haven’t stopped a war. That’s not your job. The people who can, haven’t, and that’s not your fault, either. Look at the quote above by Arthur Ashe. It’s the most incredible wisdom/ piece of advice/ powerful mantra you will ever encounter. You can apply it to absolutely anything.
Start where you are.
If you want to love others, you have to first start with yourself (more on this in a couple of weeks). Hold your loved ones often. Tell them. Tell them to tell their loved ones. Hug your friends. Hug your pets. Hug the trees, if you want to. Give genuine compliments. Carry out small random acts of kindness; a friend of mine makes up little packs for homeless people that she keeps in her car to hand out whenever she sees someone in need.
Practice gratitude— this is so powerful, in a few days you will realise how rich your life actually is. Can I give you a recent personal example? I shocked myself when I realised how grateful I was that the hospital my child was being treated in wasn’t being bombed. Imagine that. But that is exectly where we are now.
None of that is going to help people in Gaza. Wearing a flag is not going to help them. Going to a demonstration is not going to help them. Donations buy food that sits in warehouses and thus fails to help them. Writing letters to politicians is not going to help them. We’ve done it all, but our governments still refuse to stand up to bullies. Even the Flotilla couldn’t help them.
But does it mean you stop? No. Start where you are. You are in Ireland, this is where you start, what you can do, and so you keep on doing it, because never giving up demonstrates your love and solidarity. And the people of Palestine need to know that.
Use what you have.
My cause is the climate crisis. I don’t go to demonstrations, because I have Carys to care for, and a demonstration is not the right place for her. Or me. I’m not good with crowds. But I don’t need to. I do something more practical, and arguably more useful. I work on rewilding my garden and grow fruit and vegetables using permaculture principles.
You don’t need to buy books, there is lots of information online. You don’t have to spend money on seeds. Now is the perfect time to gather wildflower seeds from your local hedgerows (if you don’t know how to gather and store wild seeds, just let me know, I can write a short post on it). We need people to march and make speeches. But we also need workers who quietly get on with the task in hand.
I dragged out some warped planks of wood that had been sitting in my garage for years and built raised beds. Use what you have, old bricks, tree trunks, stones you have dug up from your garden. I have used all of these materials. I even cut some rods of grey willow and wove a circular bed from them. Dry herbs and wild plants to make teas and herbal remedies.
Use your common sense here, and do your research. Not everything that is natural is harmless. Imagine if every house with a garden rewilded even a patch of it. We’d have somewhat less of a crisis and better health, mental and physical. Of course, switching to green energy, solar panels, gravity fed or composting toilets (not as bad as you might imagine!) may be beyond most people’s means, but one day… in the meantime, start where you are and do what you can.
Do what you can
What is your gift? Your skill? How can you use it to support the causes you care about? Mine is writing. Here on H A G, I try to draw people’s attention to the nature all around them, and how you can introduce these plants from the hedgerows into your own spaces, and how you can use them. But in my book, I write about attitudes to motherhood, female aging and disability. Writing raises awareness, and it can be subtle or jarring, but one way or another, it makes people think.
Maybe you paint, or weave willow, or knit. Doirrean Ní Ghríofa wrote that the child’s cardigan knitted by her grandmother was a female text. I love that! What can that text tell you, beyond the love of a granny for her child. Who doesn’t love a bit of yarn bombing? What messages can you weave into your knitting, your art, your dancing, your music?
If you are a good speaker, show up on social media. If you are good at diy, show people how to fix things, instead of buying new. Think about what you can do, and then do what you can.
Love is more than caring. Love is active. It’s something you do, not just something you say. Love is resistance. Love is activism. Love begins where you are now, doing what you can with what you have. You are not powerless. You are a rebel. A mid-life, grey-haired rebel with troublesome hormones, admittedly, but a rebel none-the-less.
Now, do you see? All those small things you are doing every day, that you discount as worthless, they all matter. They are the million and one ways you show your love. Sometimes, we need to be reminded of that.

Grá mór,

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