Walking & Thinking #8

What’s in a name?
That which we call a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.
Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare


So, what IS in a name?

Some people don’t like their own given name, and sometimes we don’t like someone else’s name. Sometimes we are in wonderment at how someone might have arrived at a particular name, or notice that a name has a funny ring to it, or sounds like it might be from another language than our own, etc.  I remember disliking my name when I was young. I much preferred nicknames to my own given name when I was a teenager. That changed as I grew into an adult, but not necessarily for the reasons this post is about… until now.

Our family has another grandbaby on the way — our third. So it’s an exciting time! I was teasing the kids about naming the baby after me — even if it was a boy — or combining mine and mother’s names — DeboRosa. Yeah, I know how it sounds. My former husband says it sounds too much like “ambrosia,” which I still feel qualifies it for the possibility list. (I’m seriously just kidding.)

When I was out for my walk the other day, I was chuckling to myself about that conversation. Then I started thinking about our children’s names. All three boys are named after beloved family members who are not only loved, but strong in character. The lone girl’s name was chosen because it sounded pretty (and it is — almost as pretty as her). Our first granddaughter is named the same way, and our first grandson is named after his father and has a middle name with a very special meaning in Spanish. Anyway, that’s the context for this post.

As I and my thoughts meandered around the neighborhood, it occurred to me just how much I love our kids’ names, and how much they mean to me. I started thinking about the things I mentioned above about my own name, about times when I couldn’t imagine why someone would name a child “that,” or when I heard someone making fun of a name because it sounded “foreign.” I know people who have changed their names because they didn’t like them, and others because the name they were given at birth did not match their gender identity. I know some who have changed their names because they wanted a more American-sounding name. (That makes me sad for a few reasons.) I also recalled some people whose names make me personally feel a particular way — upset, angry, sad, fearful, anxious. And there are still others when I hear them, I feel joy, love, warmth, happiness. But I couldn’t recall ever hearing a parent say that they regretted giving a particular name to their child/ren.

I worked in various positions in healthcare, primarily women’s health for many years. Names were important, and spellings of those names were extremely important. I used to keep a list in my drawer of the peculiar or unusual ones. Some seemed thoughtful, but others still have me scratching my head to this day. Nonetheless, someone cared about those names enough and whatever was behind them to dole them out to a most precious gift.

How do people respond to your name? How do they feel when they hear it? How do you feel about your own name? How will you hear names after this?

When your parent/s gave you your name, it sounded like love in their soul, like music to their ears, a song etched in their heart, or a sweet memory worthy of sharing. It meant something to the person that thoughtfully gave you your name, and they heard something in it, knew someting about it no one else could hear, see, or feel quite the same.


My name 🙂

In the Heart Lives Justice

You can enslave a body.
You can even trick a mind into believing it’s so.
But you’ll never enslave a heart that knows its right to be free.

You can cage a body.
You can manipulate the mind to believe it’s locked.
But you’ll never smother a heart from being free.

You can cast a body into darkness.
You can convince the mind that it’s in an abyss.
But you’ll never consume the light from the heart.

You can refuse to see the effects of bondage.
You can let your mind choose deafness.
But you’ll never silence a heart that longs for justice.

You can turn away from the past.
You can silence your mind to the facts.
But the heart that has been chained will not let you rest.

You can busy the body endlessly.
You can overwhelm the mind with details.
But you can’t silence a heart that grows toward the sunlight.

You can use a body as a barrier.
You can chain a mind to the fools.
But another’s heart you cannot own.

You can kill the body.
You can kill the mind.
But the heart’s beat will be heard beyond its life.

You can take a body.
You can take over a mind.
But the heart chooses why it beats.

You can jail a body.
You can incarcerate a mind.
The heart roams where it wants.

You can beat a body.
You can gaslight a mind.
But the heart is made of freedom.

You can chain a body.
You can warp the mind.
You can’t fool the heart.

You can blind the body.
You can persuade the mind it’s captive.
But the heart will always know it beats for the whole.

You can keep a body in poverty.
You can train a mind to believe it’s stuck.
The heart will always know it belongs to the universe.

You can separate a body from its birthright.
You can teach a mind to hate.
But the heart yearns to be free from that bondage.

You can engulf the body in hegemony.
You can train the mind to ignore bias.
The heart absorbs the toxins.

You can dress a body like it’s free.
You can teach a mind to live in the masses.
But the heart will continue to cry out: No justice, no peace.

Debora Lynn Garcia