What’s In a Name

Years after this particular Beltane, I sat with Amergin in one of the fully walled areas affectionately named nibble gardens on Culinary, open to the sky dome, with tables and seating corners scattered throughout. It was a place in the habitat where muted sounds drifted through spaces designed for discussions and seated activities.

Once I chose to move from dedication to the next rite of passage, Dana finally told Amergin I was ready for him to act as one of my teachers, and he chose to conduct our discussions in one of the quieter spaces of the gardens, surrounded by the movement and muted sounds of those around us. He liked the dichotomy and muted chaos, he once told me. It helped him to think. I had the exact opposite reaction to our environment, but I suppose it was all part of Amergin's method.

Another aspect of that method was that I could no longer simply trust what I was told. Previously, I simply absorbed what I had been taught: the eight Sabbats and their meanings, as well as the basics of the ritual that I regularly performed so as not to detract from the energies within; the proper way to handle myself, practical lessons everyone needed to know, regardless of where they stood in the hierarchy.

Amergin didn't want me to simply parrot something back at him or perform a ritual movement perfectly. He wanted me to do something much harder. He wanted me to think.

At first, all that meant was that I was adding even more concepts to my list of things to research, which, no matter how diligently I applied myself, just kept getting longer. Then he began throwing in some odd ideas, ones I could easily dispute given my own life experiences.

I think it was the third or fourth time he said something so contrary to what I knew that I finally had it. No matter the respect I was supposed to feel for him as my teacher, I couldn't let it go, and I challenged him, giving him examples from my own experiences as backup.

His answer surprised me.

"Ah, so you went behind my back, did your own research, had your own experiences, and they don't line up with what I've told you? It's glad I am that you did. Trust but verify, I was taught. Never take anyone else's experience as more worthy than your own, nor their own opinions, nor their facts. Verify what you can, through research, your own experiences and most importantly, your ethical and moral code. We practice, we don't believe. We are experiential, and each of us draws our own conclusions from each experience through our own lenses, our own filters of knowledge, and our own history. Good catch, keep at it."

So this night, I decided to gain more knowledge to add to my filter.

"Kevin once told me you named yourself. The only people I know who have done it are people who are given names that don't fit their gender identity. That obviously isn't the case here. So why, what was wrong with the name your parents chose for you?"

He grinned, "Your parents named you Brandon, right, and you never thought of yourself as something else?"

"Well, yes, but that's normal."

"Normal, is it? Tell me, Brandon, what is normal about hanging a label on a being who has been born mere moments before? There's no way to know who they are in that moment, and why insist the child carry a label that doesn't fit?"

He grinned, which made me feel discomfited. "I never thought about a name being part of an identity, in the same way as pronouns, but yeah, you're right."

"Don't look so upset, you're stretching, that's all. It's not like you broke the Charter or anything. " Learning forward in a way I found vaguely irritating, he continued, "Most people just keep the name they were given, and don't really even think about it. The label doesn't itch or irritate; it's just there, a part of them. Look at Alex."

I thought about that, "she and I did talk about her names before, she identified them as what different people call her, but they're all variations of her name."

"Are they though?" Amergin grinned at me, a grin I was finding particularly obnoxious at that moment. "Regardless, you correctly identified the difference. In the spaces you are aware of, Alex allows others to use variations of an identifier she did not choose herself.

"Alex has kept the name she was given at birth, but she's adapted variations of her name to define herself in specific spaces of her life. People don't think about variations of the name, even though in her case, every name reflects another facet."

He took a long drink before continuing. "My parents decided before I was born that I would have the opportunity to craft my own identity. They gave me a common name, William, and while they would have been thrilled had it fit, I always knew they would support whatever label I chose to pin onto myself.

"In ancient times, many cultures initially held off formally naming a child. There could be differing reasons, but a common one was to see if the child could survive. In those times, many children didn't. They would use what were known as pet names, or milk names, until a formal naming was held.

"Names have power, and are integral to our identity, an intrinsic aspect of self. To have to carry a name that doesn't fit one's identity would be horrible, to not be recognized as yourself." Amergin's device buzzed; after glancing at it, we went together to pick up our first order.

It took some time to arrange the various dishes so we could easily reach and share them, and while we were doing so, I decided I wanted to delve further into this subject.

"Okay, I can see where that happens when someone is born and named into the wrong gender. But how can a name be an intrinsic aspect of self if it's given to you?"

"Exactly!" Amergin's braids shifted as he reached for the pierogies, placing one on his plate and slathering it with sour cream and fried onions. "But why are you tying names to gender?"

I slowly drizzled cilantro chutney over my potato samosa. Taking my time, thinking it through. As long as I was doing something, I could avoid the "well?" look on Amergin's face. It was a trick I'd learned in desperation, to keep me from blurting out something stupid.

"To be honest, I don't know why I am. I guess because I've never known someone to change their name other than having it do with gender."

These were the classes I struggled with, the ones where I was expected to find an answer even though I barely understood a concept. My answer wasn't really an answer, and I knew it.

"So what I hear you saying is that you associate names with gender. I am a cis-male, and there has never been a question in my mind as to whether I matched the reproductive system I was born with.

"Like many kids, I didn't think much about my name; I didn't really have an identity yet. That's part of our jobs as kids, you know, to discover who we are. I think I was 9 or 10 before the name I was called began to grate on me. I began experimenting with names, trying to find something that fit. And yes, at first, I tried on names that matched my gender."

I swear he paused until I was just about halfway through with my bite of samosa, before he continued.

"That all changed the day I decided to call myself Sue."

I almost choked as I tried to keep my food in my mouth. Once I got everything done and cleared my throat, "Sue? Were you fooling around with gender, too?"

"There's an old song about a boy named Sue, so it seemed appropriate. Of course, it caused a bit of an uproar, mainly among people who wanted to know if I was using she/her pronouns and who were as puzzled as you are now when I told them I still preferred he/him. ₍₁₎

"What I liked about it was how everyone's attitude around me changed; it was like they were seeing me for the first time. I felt, if not me yet, slightly more me than I had before. I knew one thing: whatever name I ended up with couldn't be ordinary.

"How did you choose your name?" I forgot the last bite of samosa still on my fork, poised above my plate.

He shrugged, "How does anyone choose a name? I'll tell you one thing: choosing a name can't be random. It takes research, both internal and external. A name can resonate with the energies of those who used it before. It's why certain names are synonymous with evil and are never used: Adolf, Caligula, Donald, Nero, Osama, Pol Pot, Saddam, and Vladimir are the poster children for names that no one will ever resurrect.

"I was probably twelve when I settled on a temporary name, Bryn, which is just the Welsh word for hill; and it was then I began searching for my true name. By this time, I was a teenager and, along with my parents and grandparents, was attending Witches Head rituals regularly.

"Classes were usually held before ritual, and while the adults gathered in their classes, we kids had our own. I was fascinated by the mythology of what had been known as the British Isles. I found myself resonating with the bard, judge and poet Amergin Glúingel. Interestingly enough, I also sport white knees." He laughed, and I knew I was going to have to ask.

"What do white knees have to do with it?"

"A literal translation of the name Glúingel is 'white knees'. Amergin was the chief bard of Ireland. A bard is a teller of stories and poetry, a musician, a reciter of history and law. The chief bard was considered a master of both history and literature, in whom resided the power of the land. He wrote the first poem in the Gaelic language, and it was thought to be an incantation of creation, that he had the power with his words to bring a new world into being."

Amergin lifted his head, and once again, I felt myself drawn in, his words filling me, nothing existing outside.

"I am a bard, a teller of stories, one who holds the old dear, while striving ever further as things change." He closed his eyes for a moment and then began to recite.

He finished his recitation, and we sat for a moment in silence before he said, "It's a poem near and dear to me, and once I read it for the first time, I felt a need to learn it, not just the cadence, but the mysteries and stories beneath some of its words, and I felt the name call to me. My name, Amergin, is who I am now; in those spaces, you do so know me."

That last phrasing was odd, but then again, it probably had a lot to do with the Witches Head Tradition, in which he was one of the leaders, well, at least one of the leaders. "

"Did you ever consider any other names?"

"Other than the ones I tried on when I was growing up? No. Kevin did suggest I name myself Gwydion a few times. Fourth branch of the Mabiniogi; it's now part of your homework. Read it and then write a comparison as to how I fit or don't fit the name." ₍₃₎

Our plates were empty. Amergin laughed, finished his drink and rose to leave, speaking as he did so.

"You have more homework. First, research your current name and find the traits associated with it, and compare those traits to who you know yourself to be. Second, privately, detail who you are, in as much detail as you know yourself to be. Using those notes, find a few names that seem to match those qualities you know to be within yourself. Choose a name and use it among close family and friends. Journal your experiences around the name, using it and hearing others use it when referring to you. How does it feel? Journal daily for a week, every other day for a month and then once a week through the rest of the three months. Using all of your notes, write an essay on your experience. I'll expect it no later than Yule."

And with that, he gave me a cheery wave and walked out of the pub, leaving me to sip my drink and groan silently as I considered this assignment on top of the last I was still struggling over.