Archive for September, 2008

Go ahead and change your name. I dare you.

September 23, 2008

Just go ahead and try to change your name. I dare you. I’m not even talking about officially, you know, restamping the files full of official documents that give proof to your existence, an authenticity to your past and present. I can’t even imagine dealing with that – the tax returns, the social security card, school transcripts, the passport, car registrations, deeds, loans, bank accounts and credit cards. No, it’s hard enough just to change your name unofficially.

My given name is Mary. I have been called Mary all of my life. I was named for my Russian grandmother who came to this country in 1902 from Kiev, and who died a month before I was born. As a little girl, I was proud to have her name. I could feel how much love the name evoked for my parents when they spoke about her. My hope was that it would rub off. I figured her goodness came with the name so it was ok by me. Never mind that I was the only Jewish Mary I knew and often had to stand up to those who disputed that there could be no such thing as a Jewish girl named for the Blessed Mother. “I am so Jewish”, I’d retort, “just ask my mother.”

At this age, I have decided that Mary no longer works for me. It no longer describes who I am, who I have become. I have decided to join the ranks of men and women (many in middle age) who change their names to something that finally suits them. My friend Larry has become Lorenzo. Judy has become Lillith. Barbara is now Sarah. Elaine, Elana. And Margaret, the intriguing name of Catstone.

So I am now Mayzee. It feels right and I’ve tried on names like pants off the rack at Loehman’s for years. First, Mayzee begins with an “M” so it still has that soft mmmm sound I am familiar with and like so much. Maura, Magda, Maya, Mia, though certainly viable candidates, were just too serious to suit me. After considering each one, I found myself thinking, “Who am I kidding!” On me they felt pretentious.

I looked for clues. Mayzee has “May” front and center and being a May baby, it is the time of year I am the happiest, born again with the blooming of each pink magnolia. Then, coincidentally, years ago, it was the name May B. that I chose for a character that grew out of doodle and into a cartoon. I was quite fond of her; she was a kindred spirit.

So the sweet name “May” won the day and the “zee” popped up no doubt to add a dimension of lightness, joy, yes even silliness.

When I tell people about my new name they look at me funny. Some try to remember, some don’t. My daughter’s reaction is to roll her eyes, exasperated and somewhat alarmed. She asks me if I realize that “Mayzee” rhymes with “crazeey.” “Sure enough,” I say, “that’s right.” After all these years, I’m finally nuts enough to be myself.”

How about you? What name would you choose?

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My dog needs a past life regression.

September 16, 2008

Rio’s a great dog. A 70 pound black and white mix bought at the pound seven years ago as a scrawny, malnourished pup for just $100. A taller, short-hair version of a Border Collie with a Hindu-like sacred black dot on his forehead. He is nothing but love. And some neuroses.

Sure, Rio has the usual canine fear of thunder and lightning and hesitates to go out into the rain. But Rio also has a thing with linoleum and can only be coaxed into the kitchen on the prospect of licking a pan of leftover sautéed juices from a breast of chicken. He doesn’t like other people’s houses either, their apartments, or their offices. With any strange indoor space, he will shake uncontrollably with tail between his legs and refuse to cross the threshold. You can pull all you want, he won’t budge. Standing firm, he will whine until you let him leave the premises. Forget about taking him to visit a friend, a neighbor. It is just too anxiety producing for this otherwise very Zen dog. His fear is palpable.

Now one of the ways I have dealt with my human issues over time has been to receive energy work. Yes, of course, quite wu wu you say, but frankly, it has really brought me through a whole host of times that would have otherwise cost me a lot of time and money with a shrink. I have done all kinds – sat with spiritual channels, done Reiki, Feldenkrais, Polarity and Past Life regressions and every time, it seemed to help. So the other day as I was lying on the table reliving one of my many past lives in the Catholic Church, it occurred to me that Rio could also benefit from a past life regression.

Perhaps Rio could see that all his irrational fears stem from a distant Roman incarnation when as a lion he was forced to devour innocent Christians who dared challenge the divinity of Caesar. Or maybe his issues can be traced back to a lifetime as a relentless bloodhound sniffing the trail of an oppressed slave escaping the cruelty of a Mississippi plantation Master. In fact, it could be any one of hundreds of lifetimes in which he, as one creature or another, was abused or did the abusing. Of course, none of this explains the part about the linoleum or his fear of strange spaces, but remember, spirit doesn’t operate on a literal plane, and the point here is to release, to exorcise the demons.

I asked Rio if he was game for this type of therapy. He told me he’d pass. He’s kind of used to his neuroses. He’s comfortable with his discomfort, as they say. If anything, he told me, he’d go in for something more cerebral, say psychoanalysis or better still, some good drugs. He’s no dummy, my dog Rio – particularly ‘cause he picked a really good life this time around.

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