Could you spell that please? (About our daughter's name)

Our daughter's name is not common in the United States. We're getting used to pronouncing it several times for people (ASH-ling), and spelling it for the doctor's office. We knew when we chose the name that it would require a lifetime of pronunciation correction for Americans she meets (though when she visits the UK, which we hope she does often, there will be no issue at all as it's a relatively common name). We think it is a beautiful name, and thought we'd share a little bit about why we chose it.

We were first introduced to the name when, on our second date, we saw The Secret of Kells at an independent movie theatre in Nashville, the Bellcourt. Aisling is the name of a character in the movie. She's a bright fairy- or nymph-like girl with lots of sass and spunk, deep love for and connection with her forest, and a hidden strength and power that come through repeatedly for the hero in his times of need. Here's a clip from the movie, where she introduces herself:

We loved the movie and the character, but we'd never heard the name before so we looked it up. We found that the word "Aisling" is an Irish word meaning "dream" or "vision." It refers to a particular type of poetic genre that developed during the late 17th century in the Irish language.

All of this took place before we were even married, much less pregnant and looking for a girl's name. But for some reason, whenever we spoke of how we might raise a daughter, should we ever be blessed with one, we always called her "Aisling." And so when we did find out that we were pregnant, it was easy to decide which name to choose. I suppose it helps that we each have a significant amount of Irish ancestry.

Here is an example of an Aisling poem, Gile na Gile (Brightness most Bright), translated by Thomas Kinsella
Brightness most bright I beheld on the way, forlorn.
Crystal of crystal her eye, blue touched with green.
Sweetness most sweet her voice, not stern with age.
Colour and pallor appeared in her flushed cheeks.

Curling and curling, each strand of her yellow hair
as it took the dew from the grass in its ample sweep;
a jewel more glittering than glass on her high bosom
-created, when she was created, in a higher world.

True tidings she revealed, most forlorn,
tidings of one returning by royal right,
tidings of the crew ruined who drove him out,
and tidings I keep from my poem for sheer fear.

Foolish past folly, I came to her very presence
bound tightly, her prisoner (she likewise a prisoner...)
I invoked Mary's Son for succour: she sarted from me
and vanished like light to the fairy dwelling of Luachair.

Heart pounding, I ran, with a frantic haste in my race,
by the margins of marshes, through swamps, over bare moors.
To a powerful palace I came, by paths most strange,
to that place of all places, erected by druid magic.

All in derision they tittered - a gang of goblins
and a bevy of slender maidens with twining tresses.
They bound me in bonds, denying the slightest comfort,
and a lumbering brute took hold of my girl by the breasts.

I said to her then, in words that were full of truth,
low improper it was to join with that drawn gaunt creature
when a man most fine, thrice over, of Scottish blood
was willing to take her as her tender bride.

On hearing my voice she wept in high misery
and flowing tears fell down from her flushed cheeks.
She sent me a guard to guide me out of the palace
- that brightness most bright I beheld on the way, forlorn

The Knot

Pain, disaster, downfall, sorrow and loss!
Our mild, bright, delicate, loving, fresh-lipped girl
with one of that black, horned, foreign, hate-crested crew
and no remedy near till our lions come over the sea.