Names and the stories they hold
I'm discovering our names are more than mere nouns. Each name is a book of stories. Some of these stories are young and we write them during our life time. Others are much older and more hidden. Their roots lie deep within the myths of our cultures.
My name is a book of many narratives but the main tale is one of disconnection. If each page of my book were to represent a year, forty pages would chronicle the struggle of a child and a woman to connect their birth name and to the true power held within it.
When I was born my mother named me Penelope. I recently asked her why she chose the name and she simply replied it was a name she liked. Sometime after deciding upon my name and before I can remember my parents had second thoughts. They concluded Penelope was too much of a mouthful for a little one and so I became Penny. The Penelope inscribed in black ink on a pink and cream certificate was banished to a folder to be tucked away in some dark recess, occasionally resurfacing from time to time as proof of identity.
When you live your life under an alias your real name enters a mysterious shadow realm. It enters that magical and mystical world of true names. Ancients believed if you discovered the true name of a thing or being you would have power over it. I think there's more than a grain of truth in that myth. When people discover you have another name their curiosity is piqued. Why don't you use your name? they inquire. Failure to respond with satisfactory answers leads them to postulate their own theories and so seeds of stories about your name are sown. For me as a child these seeds grew into the story I was posh. The only Penelopes these inquiring minds knew of were Penelope Pitstop and Penelope Keith and they were both, most definitely, posh. And so the name calling and bullying began and with it came a loss of power and perhaps soul and a further disconnection with my name. I no longer wanted to be connected with something that caused pain and as a consequence without even realising it I bought into the story seeded by a few insecure children. Their story now became my story.
It took over fifty years of searching to finally find a connection with my name and in so doing add another narrative to my book. It all happened quite suddenly really or so it seemed, one of those aha moments. But then again maybe I was just finally ready to discover the truth about my name and in so doing heal a wound in my matrilineal line. It all happened during the summer of 2017 following an extremely painful and debilitating attack of brachial neuritis, Throughout the months of July and August I took to walking in the wood behind my house. I have always loved trees for as long as I can remember. Trees have that amazing ability to hold space for us. Within their tranquil realms you can find peace and healing. I guess my daily walks and meditations are what the Japanese would term Shinrin-yoku - forest bathing.
Our appreciation of the healing properties of trees is not a recent discovery but rather a reawakening of a knowing lost in our unconscious. Delve a little into the many mythologies and religions of the world and you will find the concept of a sacred tree or the tree of life. In Britain and Ireland it was the Celts that were strongly associated with tree worship and the Druids were the religious leaders of Celtic society. The word druid is frequently cited as meaning "those with knowledge of the oak". The Sanskrit word 'Duir' gave rise to the word for oak and the English word door suggesting the oak is an opening into greater wisdom. A similar term to Druid can also be found in the Greek word dryad. Dryads in Greek mythology where female tree spirits specifically associated with oak trees. Drys in Greek signifies "oak".
During my summer excursions into the woods I started to become aware of the presence of oak trees. I hadn't noticed them on previous bimbles either due to the lack of foliage in winter or the obscuring of their leaves in summer by the more dense canopies of the neighbouring sycamores and maples. Once I had spotted one I quickly spied another and then another. These silent sentinels where stepping out from behind their leafy veils. It was around this time I decided to look into the origins of my name. I'm not sure why, all previous forays always returned the same boring answer. Penelope was the faithful wife of Odysseus who wove a shroud to avoid having to choose a suitor when her husband was away fighting the Trojan War. So with too much time on my hands and in need of a distraction from the pain I was suffering I found myself sat at a computer googling the words "Penelope" and "etymology". Up popped the usual returns but wait there was something new. I clicked on a link and discovered to my surprise the existence of two Penelopes in Greek mythology. The second was a dryad who resided on mount Kyllene in Arcadia and she was the daughter of Dryops (Oak-Face), and the mother by Hermes to Pan. Suddenly that disconnection I had carried for years began to shift, a veil had been lifted.
Some weeks later I found myself talking to my mother about my discoveries. She was intrigued. Her name Sylvia she told me means "spirit of the wood". Her father had chosen her name. It was a name he had heard in a Shakespeare play and liked it. And so there it is the "spirit of the oak" is the daughter of the "spirit of the forest". Curious I decided to look into the meaning of her father's name as I had a vague recollection that his surname Holt was related to trees. I was correct Holt is of Proto-Germanic origin and means small wood or grove of trees. My Grandfather loved wood I can still remember his workshop where he indulged in his hobby of carpentry. I still have a violin he made. I then turned my attention to his first name - Oscar. One theory is the name means "deer friend" derived from Gaelic os "deer" and cara "friend. Another woodland connection, this is more than a little weird! I delved into my Grandmother's name - Kathleen. The origins of this name are highly debated but one train of thought suggests it is derived from the Greek name Aikaterine which could have come from the earlier name Hekaterine, possibly derived from the Greek goddess Hecate. Hecate is an intriguing goddess and it is suggested her origins can be traced back to an Earth Mother Goddess from neolithic times.
I am fascinated that the names on my maternal side seem strongly rooted in the earth. I feel after years of searching I have discovered a tap root that runs through my matrilineal line anchoring me to my ancestors and our Earth Goddess Mother. Interestingly the goddess connection will continue into the next generation. How so? I named my daughter Thea which in Greek literally means Goddess.
My name is a book of many narratives but the main tale is one of disconnection. If each page of my book were to represent a year, forty pages would chronicle the struggle of a child and a woman to connect their birth name and to the true power held within it.
When I was born my mother named me Penelope. I recently asked her why she chose the name and she simply replied it was a name she liked. Sometime after deciding upon my name and before I can remember my parents had second thoughts. They concluded Penelope was too much of a mouthful for a little one and so I became Penny. The Penelope inscribed in black ink on a pink and cream certificate was banished to a folder to be tucked away in some dark recess, occasionally resurfacing from time to time as proof of identity.
When you live your life under an alias your real name enters a mysterious shadow realm. It enters that magical and mystical world of true names. Ancients believed if you discovered the true name of a thing or being you would have power over it. I think there's more than a grain of truth in that myth. When people discover you have another name their curiosity is piqued. Why don't you use your name? they inquire. Failure to respond with satisfactory answers leads them to postulate their own theories and so seeds of stories about your name are sown. For me as a child these seeds grew into the story I was posh. The only Penelopes these inquiring minds knew of were Penelope Pitstop and Penelope Keith and they were both, most definitely, posh. And so the name calling and bullying began and with it came a loss of power and perhaps soul and a further disconnection with my name. I no longer wanted to be connected with something that caused pain and as a consequence without even realising it I bought into the story seeded by a few insecure children. Their story now became my story.
It took over fifty years of searching to finally find a connection with my name and in so doing add another narrative to my book. It all happened quite suddenly really or so it seemed, one of those aha moments. But then again maybe I was just finally ready to discover the truth about my name and in so doing heal a wound in my matrilineal line. It all happened during the summer of 2017 following an extremely painful and debilitating attack of brachial neuritis, Throughout the months of July and August I took to walking in the wood behind my house. I have always loved trees for as long as I can remember. Trees have that amazing ability to hold space for us. Within their tranquil realms you can find peace and healing. I guess my daily walks and meditations are what the Japanese would term Shinrin-yoku - forest bathing.
Our appreciation of the healing properties of trees is not a recent discovery but rather a reawakening of a knowing lost in our unconscious. Delve a little into the many mythologies and religions of the world and you will find the concept of a sacred tree or the tree of life. In Britain and Ireland it was the Celts that were strongly associated with tree worship and the Druids were the religious leaders of Celtic society. The word druid is frequently cited as meaning "those with knowledge of the oak". The Sanskrit word 'Duir' gave rise to the word for oak and the English word door suggesting the oak is an opening into greater wisdom. A similar term to Druid can also be found in the Greek word dryad. Dryads in Greek mythology where female tree spirits specifically associated with oak trees. Drys in Greek signifies "oak".
During my summer excursions into the woods I started to become aware of the presence of oak trees. I hadn't noticed them on previous bimbles either due to the lack of foliage in winter or the obscuring of their leaves in summer by the more dense canopies of the neighbouring sycamores and maples. Once I had spotted one I quickly spied another and then another. These silent sentinels where stepping out from behind their leafy veils. It was around this time I decided to look into the origins of my name. I'm not sure why, all previous forays always returned the same boring answer. Penelope was the faithful wife of Odysseus who wove a shroud to avoid having to choose a suitor when her husband was away fighting the Trojan War. So with too much time on my hands and in need of a distraction from the pain I was suffering I found myself sat at a computer googling the words "Penelope" and "etymology". Up popped the usual returns but wait there was something new. I clicked on a link and discovered to my surprise the existence of two Penelopes in Greek mythology. The second was a dryad who resided on mount Kyllene in Arcadia and she was the daughter of Dryops (Oak-Face), and the mother by Hermes to Pan. Suddenly that disconnection I had carried for years began to shift, a veil had been lifted.
Some weeks later I found myself talking to my mother about my discoveries. She was intrigued. Her name Sylvia she told me means "spirit of the wood". Her father had chosen her name. It was a name he had heard in a Shakespeare play and liked it. And so there it is the "spirit of the oak" is the daughter of the "spirit of the forest". Curious I decided to look into the meaning of her father's name as I had a vague recollection that his surname Holt was related to trees. I was correct Holt is of Proto-Germanic origin and means small wood or grove of trees. My Grandfather loved wood I can still remember his workshop where he indulged in his hobby of carpentry. I still have a violin he made. I then turned my attention to his first name - Oscar. One theory is the name means "deer friend" derived from Gaelic os "deer" and cara "friend. Another woodland connection, this is more than a little weird! I delved into my Grandmother's name - Kathleen. The origins of this name are highly debated but one train of thought suggests it is derived from the Greek name Aikaterine which could have come from the earlier name Hekaterine, possibly derived from the Greek goddess Hecate. Hecate is an intriguing goddess and it is suggested her origins can be traced back to an Earth Mother Goddess from neolithic times.
I am fascinated that the names on my maternal side seem strongly rooted in the earth. I feel after years of searching I have discovered a tap root that runs through my matrilineal line anchoring me to my ancestors and our Earth Goddess Mother. Interestingly the goddess connection will continue into the next generation. How so? I named my daughter Thea which in Greek literally means Goddess.
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| Dryad Reborn (2008) by Amber naralim Ross |
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