What's Your Name?

“… for the pneuma, in keeping with its original wind nature, is flexible, ever in living motion, comparable now to water, now to fire. It can desert its original haunts, can even go astray and get lost, if it succumbs too much to the spirit of the age.”

-Carl Jung, Answer to Job

When I was a child, I was obsessed with names. In elementary and middle school, I would write down this list of all the first names I could possibly think of. In a typical childlike way, I got the urge to do this almost exclusively when I was supposed to be doing other things. I’m not sure why it was satisfying to see so many names written down in several columns covering a sheet of college-ruled notebook paper, in the tiniest and neatest handwriting I could possibly manage. There was just this magic involved with reading all of those names, the different origins and syllables and spelling variations — and yes, the same name spelled in two different ways counted as two different names.

It seems as though, even as a child, I understood the power in a given name. At times, our name is part of the very first impression we make on someone. Often, when someone decides to shed their inherited identity and live into a different truth, the first thing they decide to do is change their name. Our name is a huge part of our existence. It tells others who our parents and grandparents were. It gives hints as to who we’ve been raised to be. It can even suggest the trajectory of our future, if we desire. If we let it.

As much as that’s the case, the more complete truth is that the names we carry throughout life aren’t just literal. They can’t just be read from a copy of our birth certificate or a resume. We also name ourselves everyday with the choices we make, the people we choose to spend our time with, the dreams we dare to pursue. Our political affiliation, our sense of humor, our willingness to extend grace and choose loyalty over infidelity. All of these things constantly and subtly change the way our spiritual name rolls off of the metaphorical tongue. There’s a power inherent in that kind of name that we all possess.

Unfortunately, we relinquish that power far too easily, which begs a deeply uncomfortable question.

What happens when you forget your own name?

I’m willing to admit that I’ve forgotten my name quite a few times over the years. It’s typically a gradual process for me — before I realize I’ve given up the rights to my own name, I’ve watched it change before my eyes and without my permission. At times, I’ve forgotten what I like to do for fun. I’ve forgotten what kind of books I prefer to read, what jokes I think are funny, whether or not I even like to write anymore. I’ve forgotten the content of my own character. If you’re anything like me, that feeling is agonizing. It feels like you’ve lost a vital part of yourself, because you have. Feels like the wind’s knocked out of you. Feels like you can’t breathe.

When you rely on other people to name you, confusion and despair will result. It’s only a matter of time.

There’s such a fragile line we have to walk every single day. I’m still not entirely sure how to be in meaningful community with other people while not allowing myself to take on the opinions and experiences of those same people. We can’t have close relationships with other human beings without being influenced by them and influencing them in turn. However, we have a responsibility to ourselves and each other to form boundaries and confidently operate in our own gifts. Otherwise, we might start giving each other names that originate from languages we don’t even speak.

I don’t know what made me want to write about this. I guess I’m finally remembering my true name, and I hope this is the last time I’ll have to go so long without knowing it. Trust me, not being able to breathe is no fun.

May we remember our own names, and recite them to each other, and always remind each other of what’s true and solid when we forget.

-D.