Name Wrestling.

Our eldest has changed her name by deed poll from Juliette Hope to Jet Pax.

For three years she has asked to be called Jet. Juliette reminds her of times she didn’t enjoy. For her, it’s linked to feeling misunderstood, teased, dismissed and hurt in various ways. She loves being called Jet because she likes the sense of energy and drive it conjures. The association with flights, adventure, movement, power.

For three years I resisted. I associated Jet with a rejection of aspects of her-self, that she was uncomfortable with. I was willing to be respectful and introduce her as Jet to others, but I was unwilling to use that name myself. Juliette reminded me of her birth and the days it took to settle on a name that felt reflective of the beautiful, precious babe in our arms. Reminded me of her growing, playing, discovering, connections we made to people and places.

As her Mum, I felt it was important that someone held both the positive and painful experiences of her life with love and gratitude. The name Juliette represented the unchanging deep love we had for her since her birth. I wanted her to know that a mother’s role is to hold and love all the different parts of their precious child, regardless of how their child feels about themselves. When she moved back in the summer, it was clear that to make her feel welcome and relaxed at home I needed to call her Jet, and I have (though I sometimes forget).

She has legally changed her name, and this has helped. As she travels into adulthood, I know she must discover her own internal mother. She will need to lovingly hold all the parts of her-self.

When she graduated as Jet Pax, I was able to celebrate the positive decision she’s taken to choose a name she can confidently live forward with. She knows her past has shaped her and she’s found a way to make peace with that. I’m delighted that the name she’s chosen is an empowered form of Juliette and that she has chosen to move from Hope to Peace (Pax). I’m reminded that to find/make peace in the present is the most powerful practice of hope.

I’ll keep slipping up and using her old name but that doesn’t matter as much because she knows it doesn’t come from a place of resistance anymore.

What a lesson. The names we use matter. This quest for a name that conveys love and acceptance is not easy.

In Spiritual Direction (not an easy name – perhaps a topic for another day), the focus is God. Not an easy name. Much of the work is discovering what we each mean when we use that word. Though it’s a name I have lots of positive personal experiences with I am aware of it’s negative associations. It’s a name that’s been used to justify terrible actions on a personal and mind boggling scale. Beliefs and actions that I cannot equate with God.

Discomfort with that name is not new. My tradition tells of God’s resistance to being named. In the book of Exodus, God says to Moses “I Am who I Am. This is what you are to say to the people. I Am, has sent me to you.”

How easily we confuse naming something with knowledge of something. A toddler learning to talk can point up and name up outside ‘sky’ without any understanding of Sky and the complex cloud patterns that form and change with differing weather systems. As adults we clap and say, yes, sky, clever you. Reinforcing this idea that now that child knows Sky.

When I write or speak about God, I find myself struggling for a name. I want a name that says all there is to say equally to you and me wherever you are, whatever experiences you’ve had. Wow! What a preposterous quest that is. The struggle to name what cannot and shouldn’t be named is real and the struggle is good. Reminding me of the awesomeness of a presence that is far beyond my vision and comprehension.

Yet still I search for a name, some reference point with which to explore that which pulls my heart and without which I cannot imagine life because I how do we engage with that we cannot name?  Oh, to be able to change God’s name by deed poll to something empowered and peaceful - but this is not a human problem with a human solution. It’s between us and the majestical unknowable and intimately known. I stand with all those who dare to speak of this relationship. I have come from a place which has uses many names alongside God. Christ, Holy Spirit, Wisdom, Divine love, Universal source, Word, Beginning, End, Between, Shepherd, Father, Mother, Friend, Sister, Brother, King, Servant. The list is vast. All as graspable as clouds. All convey something, none convey everything.

My wrestle with Jet’s name has taught me that the path to a peaceful use of a name lies in the ability to be as honest and open as we can about our associations with a given name and to remain as open and curious as we’re able to what it says to another. There is a deep grace to staying present with each other in that wrestle and a rich opportunity to discover the depth of our connection.  

Thank you for teaching me Jet.

Going Slow.

October is my birthday month. A couple of years ago I got gifted a hot air balloon ride for my 50^th. We haven’t made it up yet despite a few tries and I was looking forward to finally taking off on my birthday, but mist scuppered that plan and I’m so glad. A clear diary day was such a luxury and a powerful reminder of the gift of going slow.

Autumn has fully arrived. Multi coloured leaves are blowing around my garden. Scattered like confetti on paths and grass. Late blooming flowers pack a vibrant punch under blankety skies of grey white fleece.

Nature is exhaling and letting go. Light levels, temperatures and apples are dropping. At every turn an invitation to stop and linger. The fig leaves turning sunshine yellow, the maple leaves a vibrant scarlet. Acorns litter the ground and crunch beneath my feet. My toes now hidden in socks and shoes to keep out the morning dew.

Outside I’m tucking in my garden for the winter. Removing late summers dead flowers, weeding after the September rain, taming rampant climbers and laying pungent woodchip on the beds.

Now is the time for crumbles and custard, soup and jacket potatoes. In the kitchen, it’s a joy to turn the oven on and remove the edge from the not yet heated room. Candles accompany me as the light dims. Windows that have been flung open all summer are shut as the afternoon advances. The quest to retain heat has started.

Now is the time for wrapping hands round mugs of tea and watching the geese fly by. Nature’s colourful crescendo so full of shape and texture sparks my imagination. Creative ideas fill the spaces the sunshine is leaving. Threads and fabric tumble from draws and baskets onto a table. What can I make from these bits and bobs? Lamplit corners and cosy cafes invite me to put pen to paper. The spider above the sink asks what dreams I’m spinning whilst the pots soak.

All this marvellous beauty, sweetness and earthiness, encourages me to go a little slower, linger a little longer, gracefully move from pace and productivity to rest and restoration and I’m very thankful for it. I’m choosing to embrace the truth that like nature I too will benefit from a slower season for a little while.

Do you relish this seasonal change in tempo? What do you find it enables?

The abundant joy of Autumn colours and fruit.

Rain

The joy of rain

What a dry summer. The ground here has been parched. The threat of fire extreme.

It’s been glorious is so many ways. Warm evenings, zero mosquitoes, endless blue sky, relaxing sea temperatures.

There have been days basking on the beach, ice creams, lazy picnics, late night swims, patio breakfasts and working with every door flung wide.

Sun lotion and hats came everywhere. Gallons of water was drunk. Shade was luxurious.

I have loved it.

But my garden …. oh, it has struggled. In June the lawn turned August yellow, dry and crispy underfoot. That was ok. I knew it would survive.

The river nearby sank lower and lower, a daily reminder of just how dry it was. Walking paths got dustier and dustier, grassy tracks retreated exposing sandy patches that got larger and larger.

Some plants, like the lavender and the fig, flourished whilst others wilted. The sun and the wind evaporating any hint of moisture from them.

The hose needed to be used judiciously as we emptied the water butts.

We mulched and shaded, stayed up late to give watering the best chance of seeping down to the searching roots.

How long would it last?

The blackberries ripened super early. The fig kept producing. Delicious.

But the trees started to gasp and stop feeding their leaves. Hedgerows browned and curled. Stress was visible and audible.

We started scanning forecasts for rain.

And last week it arrived.

What a joy, and what a surprise.

We remembered we had raincoats and umbrellas, wellies and shoes for a reason!  

Would it be enough?

Well, it sure was a glorious start. Everything breathed a sigh of relief. You could almost see the tension release.

And it’s rained plenty since. Light drizzly spots, stair rod sheets, splish splash round drops, sideways pins. Joyous variety. The sky has shifted from enormous marshmallow stacks edged in light to a blanket of constant grey. The strong westerly updating the image repeatedly. The sun has broken through, clothes have dried and puddles have disappeared.

Today the puddles have lingered, the sky’s not quite cleared and the week’s forecast promises more. The grass is greening - it happens so quick, and many plants have revived. The garden looks and feels fuller and softer again. It has relaxed.

But the stress was real and we probably won’t get to understand the full impact this season.

Aren’t we the same? Don’t we show incredible resilience to extremes? We are designed to survive and we do the most amazing job in unimaginable situations. But living and flourishing are different. Like plants, we prefer different climates and soils - but all of us flourish when they are consistent and predictable.

Our garden is flourishing now because we were able to provide water when the weather didn’t. Careful attention showed us where it was needed. We committed, time, energy and hope because we had planted this garden with love and care. It had been planted with the future in mind, and we wanted to keep that vision alive.

As we enter this new season, how are you? Are you parched or puddled? Stressed or relaxed? Are you rooted in the nurture and care of the preceding season or have you retreated early? What consistent care do you need?

Step outside, plant your feet in a puddle or on some soggy grass and take a moment. Are you standing in reviving rain, nourishing soil or gentle sun? What do you need today to nurture yourself to flourish tomorrow?