The Name Change Game
My dear parents gave me the name Cynthia Anne Gough when I was born. (Anne for my precious mama who has left this physical realm.) Then it became Cynthia Anne Bernadette Gough, when I received confirmation in 6th grade. (St. Bernadette really floated my catholic boat as a youngster and still does now, as you can read about below if you’d like.) Then it became Cynthia Gough McKeever when I got married and I took my former husband’s name. Not sure I’m a fan of that tradition anymore, God bless me (and God bless all of us trying to figure out this business of romantic love.)
Now my name is Cynthia Gough James. When I contemplated just deleting my married name and going back to Gough, some of the still Goughs in the family reminded me what a humdinger the spelling and pronunciation of that name can be. I did spend 27 years of my life, saying Gough, G-O-U-G-H, like cough with a G. I also got pronunciations like Gow, Goo, Go, Guff and Gouge. Did I really want to go back to that world? I decided that although I love Gough (which means of red hair in welsh--haha), I would add a new name, one that I am choosing for myself. I tried on a lot of names and none of them felt like me, until James . . . and it has the sweetest meaning for me. My youngest son is named David James and I have always used his middle name when talking about him or addressing him. For many years when he was a wee one, when I called him David James, he would call me Mommy James. It was the cutest thing and made my heart laugh. When I tried it on for size, it fit.
The other name that I really, really love, contemplated changing my name to (because I can choose whatever name I want) and have imagined for years being called is Magnolia Scattergood. I mean isn’t that just the greatest name ever? She is just lovely. She’s fun, quirky and does whatever she pleases, but with a huge heart. Magnolia spreads joy and acceptance wherever she goes. I also believe she passes gas whenever she wants to and laughs out loud about it. I’m laughing right now just imagining her. I think however, she’ll just be a pen name for me or a character in a writing someday. But she’ll always be with me. I have also to thank a high school classmate and friend of mine that first called me Magnolia. I believe his name is Brad (ah the memory) and that he was a football player at Fairport High School. I remember him being an incredibly loving, happy person. I hope you’ve had a wonderful life, Brad.)
So here’s my name and all its derivations: Cynthia Gough James, Cynthia James, Cindy Gough James, Cindy James. CJ. CGJ. (Anne and Bernadette will always be with me, just not on my passport etc.) I love my name and the fact that it is soooo easy to spell. I also love having a typically male first name as my last name. It’s time to bridge the unnatural divide between traditionally masculine/active energy and traditionally feminine/receptive energy. The wounded male and wounded female energy can heal and create harmoniously together, first in our own beings and then on this planet. My name represents uniting that force and oo la la, the pleasure that comes from that . . . YES!
Another cool thing about my name which I didn’t know until well into my adult life, is that Cynthia means Moon Goddess in Greek. I love this! (Feel free to call me Moon Goddess if you’d like.) What a gift it is to have a first name that means the universal force that reflects the light of the sun to our earth and whose energy affects the life-giving potential of a woman’s reproductive cycle and actually moves the tides of our immense life-giving oceans. Thank you Mom and Dad. It is a powerful and fun name.
A couple more things about my name: I have a very, very dear friend who nick-named me Auntie Cinderella and whose children actually have called me that for years. Again, my heart just expands and melts sharing this. Being a vibrational energy healer as I am, they loved my “magic” and bippity, boppity boo, Auntie Cinderella was born. What a joy to be called that and to love those children, who are now mostly grown, and to love their incredible parents with all my being. True blessings they are in my life.
Finally, I love being called Cinders (by my amazing sister Amy now and my dear brother Stephen before he left this realm), Cindy Lou (by my dear friend whom I call Katy Lou; we’re the Lou sisters) and Cindy Santiago (which was coined by my brother Michael because James means Santiago in Spanish in which he is fluent). I also love inhabiting the energy of little Cindy Lou Who, especially at this time. The grinch might seemingly be stealing much of the external garb around celebrating life and perhaps people we have loved will leave their bodies via this virus, but we can still come together (at least virtually) and sing the praises of love, of hope, of laughter, of the human spirit and of an eternal higher power that is available to us all, without exception.
If you’re interested, this is the story about Bernadette, my catholic confirmation name:
When I was in 6th grade I attended St. Rose of Lima elementary school in Freehold, New Jersey. Bruce! By the way, I just watched Mr. Springsteen’s documentary-music movie “Western Stars” on the cruise ship I was on and it was INCREDIBLE. Watch it if you can. I bet you have some extra time on your hands these days. And yes, I was just on a cruise ship during the coronavirus pandemic. What a story that is, but for another time.
Back in 6th grade, I saw the 1943 movie “The Song of Bernadette” about Saint Bernadette, who in 1858 at 14 years old saw visions of Mary, the mother of Jesus 18 times near a grotto in Lourdes, France. I fell in love. Bernadette, who was played by the actress Jenifer Jones, captured my heart and mind and exemplified what loving and serving something Greater could be like, regardless of the other people’s opinions, however cruel and powerful. Bernadette was certainly not praised at the time for the visions and messages she received (which had much to do with seeking forgiveness for the hurts we’ve caused others and to pray for grace) and she was ridiculed greatly for them. “Penance, penance, penance” as Bernadette was told by her visions, is a hard pill for humans to swallow for a couple reasons, at least. One is that the concept of repentance has been such an oppressive force throughout history. It has been used by religions and people in general to suppress and humiliate others in order to control them.
But the second reason repentance is difficult for people to accept is all on us personally. Can’t pass the buck here people. It is very hard for us humans to dissolve the concretized pride we’ve attached to our separate selves, our ego selves, our how “hard we work and try” selves, our “I will not let you touch my tender heart” selves, I am “better than you” selves and the I am so “much worse than you” selves. (Yes, that last one is pride too, just disguised. Tricky ego.)
Dissolving pride is the ANTIDOTE for our personal fears, worries, and anxieties. It will actually soften and eventually extinguish the feeling of being lonely and the fear or terror of the body dying, for nothing causes as much fear as pride. I’ll say that again: Nothing causes as much fear as pride, as of my limited way, of my limited will be done, of I am my own separate island. Pride (which in the positive current is Dignity and feels amazing) causes a cascade of machinations that take us farther and farther away from harmonious living, internally and externally. Awwww, being human is quite a thing.
So back to Saint Bernadette and repentance, I am grateful for the messages and life of Bernadette of Lourdes, a life that still brings hope for us earthlings. Penance is really a letting go and a shift in our perspective to see ourselves and others in our highest lights. It is Dignity. It is instant forgiveness. It is not a condemnation of our humanness or of our limited thinking, words or deeds. It is a lighthearted release of notions of our smallness, which in turn allows our greatness. If you ever saw the late 1990’s TV show Ally McBeal, it’s simply “Bygones.”
I’ll end with noting that it’s worth watching “The Song of Bernadette” or at least watching some of it from a cinematic, historical, as well as spiritual perspective. I recently re-watched it, not because it was spectacular state of the art filmmaking, because Lordy it’s not, but because it is simple, earnest and still has timeless teachings in it for us all.