Everything Its Right Name

I am back. It has been a month.
Sometimes the farthest you can get from yourself, is inside your own head.

I have told myself lies. Lies about people, lies about control. Lies about love and of spirit. Consumed. Sadness will strip the blood from your heart, it will steal the wind from your wings, and the color from your eyes. Tears leak from my face and as they fall to the ground, they pull the breathe out of my lungs. My grip is weak, my teeth dull.

But that is not truth. This is not what I know, or believe or have found to be of substance.

Everything has a name. A right name A name that was given by the flow at the dawn of time. Everything has a name. This name puts all in its place. When I know the right name of an object, life becomes balanced; I begin to see the universe as it truly exists - not as I have been told it exists.
This is an attempt to realize where things are meant to fall in life. A struggle to give priority to the elements that bring peace and joy and life, and to remove the pursuits that steal happiness away. When I know the right name, I can call an object what it truly is; I am not subject to it anymore, or afraid of it, or consumed by it, or blinded by it. Life's motion is directed according to knowing the right name.

I do not yet know this world by its real names. I do not yet know people by their real names. I do not yet know trees or oceans, or sand or sun, or thought or death - I do not know them by their real names. But I am learning them. The name is everything; it changes what life is - how I live, where I go, when I cry, why I laugh, who I touch, when I am satisfied.


Because, no longer is fire simply, "fire", it is deeper than that - to know it as a wolf knows it, or a stone knows it, or as the wind. No longer is money, "money", I see it as it really is, and I can live my life in response to that truth. There is a universal balance, a universal peace and motion that existed before we were born - I hope to find that again.
These cages have to come down. These walls, these bars that keep me separate from what is; that keep me saying the wrong names.



(Andrew Tipton)