So, I started to write a blog yesterday, the first in quite a while, but I found that my brain just wasn't working. I managed to write out several paragraphs, but I somehow managed to force so many ideas into what was supposed to be something simple that I had to just throw out the whole thing. Now, I've decided to just not care too much and write whatever.
I guess I'll start by trying to answer the question many of my friends and family members have been asking - Why did I change my name? Well, a simple answer to that question is that I haven't. Officially, my name is the same as it has been since I was born. Any other answer is quite a bit more complicated.
When I was a kid, I remember looking out the window of our home at the large tree in our backyard. I remember thinking about the word 'tree' and repeating it over and over again. After a while of thinking about and repeating the word aloud to myself, the combination of sounds in the word somehow lost their meaning for a while. Why should that particular series of sounds represent that giant life form growing in the yard behind our home?
I realized that if I repeated another combination of sounds such as 'glesh' or 'shelk', or even an established word like 'table' or 'chair', and thought about that thing with the branches and leaves for long enough, they could be made to feel as right as 'tree' had felt before. So what is a word? What is a name? Of course, I couldn't go around calling trees 'chairs' as that would hinder communication, but I recognized the meaninglessness of the sounds themselves. Words only have meanings because we give them meanings, and they can be easily changed or discarded.
When I took a Spanish course once, the teacher decided to give all of the students Spanish names. I was given the name of Paco. At first, it was strange to be called by a different name, but after a while, I responded to Paco as readily as I had to my given name. Now, though I only went by Paco during that one course nearly two decades ago, I can still remember myself being Paco. I remember my personality at that time. I can more easily see how much I have changed since I had that name.
There are other names in my life that don't represent me but rather places I have lived - California, Hungary, Hawaii, China, Taiwan, Colorado, or Texas. Each time I hear reference to one of the places I have lived, memories flood into my mind. It is easier for me to remember portions of my life as a result of having different names to label them under. The words themselves are meaningless, but they can represent very meaningful stages of my life. Interestingly, the meaning I attach to Hungary in my mind cannot be duplicated anywhere else. Only I have those particular memories and feelings that flood into my mind when I hear the word 'Hungary'. That word must inevitably have a different meaning for every person that hears or speaks it.
The same can be said for the names our parents give us. The feelings and memories attached to those names will differ from person to person. One person loves the name while another person hates it. Although I had no particular aversion to my given name, it sometimes felt overused with time. It was like the word 'tree' from my youth. It lost its meaning, or perhaps I never really understood it. My parents chose a name that they liked as most parents do, and I was obliged to use it. When I think about that given name, I remember my whole life history, both the good and the bad. I remember who I was and who I have become. Perhaps I just think too much.
The first time I attempted to change my name was 12 years ago. I had just moved to a new place where nobody knew me and I felt free to be anyone I wanted. I could change my bad habits without people commenting or wondering what had happened to me. I could adopt new patterns into my life. As a personal reminder of that commitment, I decided to adopt a new name. Some people stick notes on their refrigerators or bathroom mirrors to help them remember the things they commit to do. I decided to use my name as a more omnipresent reminder of my ideals and personal desires for self-improvement.
After several years, I once again moved to a new place and the name I had chosen had lost its effect. It had become no different than my given name. Stale. I returned to my given name for a while at that point, confusing all of the friends I had made since changing my name, but pleasing my old friends and family that had never really tried to adjust to my quirky behavior. After several years, my given name had regained some of its old life, and I was tired of trying to convince others to use a name they didn't want to use. People get stuck in their patterns.
During the last several months, I have focused much of my thoughts on patterns and the obstacles some of those patterns can cause to our personal development. I have felt the need once again to shake things up in my life, and few things have ever worked better for shaking things up than changing a pattern so well-established as a given name. In the process of trying to wake myself up more, I influence others with whom I have contact to do the same thing, to wake up and recognize the influence that patterns can have in their lives. My goal is to better understand the patterns in my life, to discard those patterns that are destructive or no longer useful, to adopt new patterns that can propel me forward in the direction I want to go, and to encourage others to do the same.
One of my sisters recently said that she missed that person who had my old name and that she doesn't know Tayson, the name I have chosen for this period of my life. I understand the sentiment, but a name is not who I am. It is only a symbol. Besides, I am not really the same person as I was ten years ago or five or one. If you would like to connect with who I am today, try to think of me as Tayson. I'll say more next time, maybe. I feel like I've only scratched the surface with this blog, but I am not quite up to writing a book here right now.
