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inabel : curiosities are not coincidences
I didn’t know I was going to change my name. Spirit, ancestors, the universe, all the galaxies made it very clear it was time and synchronistically confirmed what my new name was going to be multiple times.
Before I tell you about the funerals, I’ll breifly share about the birth of Bee. Bee was a nickname from when I was circumambulating years of formal Buddhist life. My given name is Deborah and I am happy to answer to this name with my immediate family. However, my Los Angeles Sangha had three Deborahs: Deborah Blando, Brazilian pop star extraordinaire, Debbie Cohen, our Jewish jewel and me. My Sangha insisted there was already a Deborah and a Debbie. So apparently they needed another name for me. Since the meaning of our name Deborah is Bee, I became Bee. I’ve been called Bee for more than half of my living years in this life.
I don’t dislike my actual given name, Deborah. It’s the name that my father bestowed upon me. I do dislike that the origin is an award winning actress who represents to me the idealized woman of the archetype I call Chipwac (cis-hetero-normative-imperialist-patriarchal-white presenting-ablist-capitalism). She was cited to be “an artist of impeccable grace and beauty, a dedicated actress whose motion picture career has always stood for perfection, discipline and elegance”. I’m not inspired.
