What’s in a name? Everything.

This story is not about being the best writer. Not at all. It’s about writing, and knowing, the value of your … name. 

There’s something about writing on paper. A palette for pencil. A canvas to scribble pen. There’s a feeling to it. 

In my case, I am a lefty, and the side of my hand used to drag across my school work. Then, my mini, coal-mining-like hand swung next to me on my way back to the yellow school bus home, after a long day of left-handed work in the trenches of public school. 

What’s the first thing we often learn to write with shaky, sweating, nervous hands at school? Our names. 

I used to write my name all sorts of ways. My friends and I would take a piece of notebook paper and shield it from each other’s eyes. We would write our names like 10 different ways and then compare. Passing around the paper, friends would cross out the ones they didn’t prefer until one or two were left. 

I liked all my signature styles open. I liked the options. Maybe one minute I was feeling bubble letters, the next serious block print, and other fancier times lovely swirling cursive with hearts drawn on the tips of my K or at the end of the curves of my lowercase r’s. 

Reading the Orwell quote with this little article, you may think some are doomed for darkness, as they lack the capabilities to communicate. But I prefer to remove the “well” in the way even brilliant Orwell stated it there and am going to replace it with “ink well” or “well of water,” or simply finding a free way to “be well” with oneself. 

The main thing is to take a dip into the writing well, shallow or deep, just jump in like I used to jump into the cow’s water tank and splash around on the farm. One of the first toes into writing being that tender moment when we learned to write our names. When we saw, for the first powerful moment, our names in print. 

Names. Powerful stamps, deep meanings. Eternal messages. So meaningful now and some future else in a time we will not see too. If even a single person, even just ourselves, truly knows what incredibleness is behind our names, we are complete. We are found. We are born with a name. It’s ours. Totally and completely the title of our unique story. Completely amazing, our names. 

So don’t let any limitations or reservations you have about your writing curtail that first real sentence you want to write. Begin that sentence with your powerful name. Start there. 

Example: “Tom Snuckleduck is incredible and this is one reason why  … “ 

See start. It’s awesome. 

When it comes to writing, starting is everything. 

I see you, your name, and that story behind you. Whether you can write a literary masterpiece or simply show your story’s depth by what your actions do, you were born to be every incredible step that came after you received your name. Then you learned to write it. Then you learned to live with it. Then, you deserve to thrive with it, love it, embrace it, be free and feel totally comfortable wearing the “skin of it.”

That’s what I see in Orwell’s quote. A warning to us and a reminder. Know each other’s names. Know we have them. Know they need to manifest where they were meant to. Write them down. Write your story. Live your lives. Love your name. Love your life. Love that others have names and lives. Love. 

One of my nicknames growing up was the, “Energizer Bunny.” Honestly for much of my life I have kept much of that energy at bay. I made it nimble and small and bent it to wrap around lives, trying to keep them comfortable or happy. I let it die even sometimes. I shut it off and stored it in compartments. Right when I got truly, happily started and too “silly” is when I was told to stop and go to bed, sit on a chair … for hours even. 

But that energy had to go somewhere and it went inward and then out on paper. Some days I shredded paper with my pencil. Other days I left petals of poetry all over the place. I wrote my name though. A lot. I looked at it. 

I remember we kept a journal in class during elementary school. It was a teacher who was honestly sometimes downright mean. But she had her own pain like I had compartmentalized too. One day I wrote all my fellow students’ names in a writing. I wanted each of their names seen. I did that because I desperately wanted to be seen. I remember she had me read that writing to the entire class. I was so proud, because that’s precisely what I wanted. I wanted to be the one they knew saw them. I also wanted people to see my pain and promise. My teacher saw my pain and promise. I saw hers too. We had an understanding. 

We are our names, our energy, our blueprint, and our DNA.  We were meant to be ourselves. It sounds so simple. But it’s really like trying to build a new universe where each other really know and see each other and then really let each other blossom. That’s the universe I want to create. That’s the universe I see farmers and ranchers can create with their urban brothers and sisters if we all wake up to each other’s pain and promise. 

The hope I think most parents have for their babies when they hold those tender hands that hold their fingers back so tight, is that those seeds grow completely into themselves. We want those fingerprints to find where they are meant to make their one-and-only imprint on this short breath we call life. 

We give them names. So let’s allow them to bring those names to life themselves. Applaud them. Protect them when they are young and marvel at them the rest of their lives until their name is a headstone, a memory, a story that lives on.  A life with a name that had a chance to truly come to life. 

That’s what’s in your name. Write it down. Look at it. It’s yours. Live that name out. It’s not a life sentence. It’s a deep well, a powerful story, and it’s a story that belongs to you. 

It’s  your name. Write it down. However you write it is very well, because it springs from the well of potential that is … you. 

Seeing names blossom is why I want to do this work. The calling on my name: www.grazemastergroup.com/hope-sojourn-sessions

I would love to bring a Hope Sojourn Session to your life, farm, ranch, community or business. Give me a call/text at 402-363-8963 or email kerry@grazemaster.com  

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