Nameless – another isolation

nameless-another-isolation

All of us are experiencing isolation during 2020.

Some more than others.

Whilst that’s normal – we are all different – it doesn’t make it okay.

This week, we experienced a different kind of isolation, that’s not normal for us. A major broadband outage in our area, which wasn’t easy to resolve.

As one day stretched into the next, our level of dependency on the Internet became even more evident.

All of our work and workings are online. And our mobile phones rely on broadband.

Yes, we missed some things that we can never replay.

But the things that are important – our connections – are still there.

And that led me further into thinking about names and naming.

Nameless – the other isolation

Names have always been important for us human beings. They distinguish who we are from the person beside us or next door.

We carry our connections with us in our names, even if it is only our surname. And children are often named with reference to relatives.

Because we are not a number. And if that is all we are known by, it dehumanises us

However, there is a difference between what is written on our birth certificate or passport and what we own as our name.

Sometimes this is because our given name is loaded with negative baggage. Please refrain from calling me Susan…

Or it feels empty, because we have rarely heard it said with love.

It can also be the boundary of who we once were. And it doesn’t fit any longer.

Owning our name

However, it can also be our excuse. We resist the invitation to step into the fullness of who we can be. I am nobody…

As well as being a waste, it also isolates us. Because we are not owning our identity and the possibility that we can inhabit.

We are separate from ourselves – another isolation.

So for all of us, I have refined the celebratory invitation I drafted for my travelling companions from The Creative’s Workshop on Wednesday:

Crossing the line…

Pause,
see with fresh eyes,
understand where
you are.

Put on
your own name.
And cross this
threshold,

with hope and possibility.

For this
time is now
waiting for
you.

This is for you and me. And the others we honour by acknowledging their name too.

With hope and possibility.

Thanks for reading

Sue

This week

How has your week been? Here are some of my explorations:

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