In writing from the perspective of an ecological spirituality I find that I am becoming aware of the limitations of a language built upon a structure of separation. There is the inherent passivity of the word "nature”, the challenge of gendered pronouns and the “it-ification” of birds and trees, and a paucity of words for experiences like the feeling of belonging to place, or the particular scent in the air on August mornings as the seasons tip toward autumn, or the light in a child’s eyes upon coming face-to-face with a hummingbird. And then there is the issue of names.
I wish to affirm and experience the uniqueness of each being I encounter, and so I choose to write about Douglas-firs and Sitka Spruce rather than trees, Wilson’s Warblers and Ruby-crowned Kinglets rather than birds. But I find that many of these names get in the way. They do not resonate, cannot really resonate, because they are not names per se but descriptions, or even claims of possession. Some analogies might help to make this clearer, and to start moving in a different direction.
Possessive names, or beings named for people
Them: Wilson’s Warbler, Douglas-fir, Anna’s Hummingbird
Us: Penrod’s Ape
We might also be Hyxroyd’s Primate, or Joseph’s Mammal, or more likely something entirely unpronounceable in the language of the terrestrial or extraterrestrial beings assigning us the name, but whoever we are named for, the species naming us is effectively saying that the one we are named for is more important than our own sovereignty, our own being-ness, or indeed any of our other traits.
Names based on appearance
Them: Black-throated Gray Warbler, Greater Yellowlegs, Rose-breasted Grosbeak
Us: Erect Naked Ground-Monkey
To name descriptively is effectively to treat a being as an “it” rather than a he, she, or they. It is to be blind to anything beyond their appearance, and it affirms appearance as the most important characteristic whenever we use the name.
Names based on behavior or habitat
Them: Worm-eating Warbler, Song Sparrow, Pacific Tree Frog
Us: Communal Fire-making Ground-Monkey
These names at least demonstrate an interest in the being’s habits and habitats, but they are still limiting, in effect defining each being based on geography or behavior rather than allowing them to simply be.
Names with no other meaning except the named being
Them: Osprey, Otter, Wolf, Coyote, Cat, Dog, Robin, Raven, Salal, Camas
Us: Human
When beings enter into our lives sufficiently that we notice and interact with them on a daily basis, we give them names that refer only to them – simple short names whose roots become lost in the depths of linguistic memory. These names do not seek to constrain or define our relationship in any way.
Most of these, in the English language, are European names that have been applied to North American beings. In only a few cases, like Camas and Salal, have we adopted Indigenous names. If our language had evolved bioregionally, we can be sure that the Douglas-fir would have a short, ancient name like oak or elm, reflecting their centrality to our lives, rather than being called a “fir” (which they are not) and associated with the late botanist David Douglas.
Once we are able to move beyond separation and enter into relationship with each being then perhaps we can go one step further and ask what they would call themselves. But I suspect that in most cases that Coyotes’ word for Coyote, or Gray Whales’ name for themselves, or Brown Creeper’s word for their own species, will not be adaptable to the human phonetic range, and so we must ultimately choose a word that we can speak, and almost any word that doesn’t already have another meaning will do.
There is a movement afoot to rename all birds named for people, which is largely based on a moral reassessment of historical figures’ character with regard to race and diversity. While I support a renaming, I will be disappointed if Wilson’s Warbler becomes “Black-crowned Shrub Warbler” or something equivalent, just as the last avian re-naming gave us the “Long-tailed Duck”.
Ravens and robins appear often in verse, but no poet is going to pen an ode to the Black-throated Gray Warbler or the Black-headed Grosbeak, as deserving as these beautiful and melodious intercontinental migrants might be. Perhaps, in time, we will choose to name more beings simply and uniquely, to stop just observing and identifying them and to begin incorporating them relationally into our experience and language and storytelling.
In the wise words of the The Lost Words Blessing: “Enter the wild with care, my love, and speak the names you see. Let new names take and root and sprout and grow.”
On a related note, I am grateful to my parents for asking themselves, when I was about to emerge into this world thirty-nine years ago, not “what shall we name him?” but “what name resonates with this being?” Markael Luterra feels like a resonant soul name to me, moreso than had they chosen to keep the Stone or Michaletz family names. I would encourage anyone naming a child to ask that same question, to move beyond old patriarchal and patrilineal naming traditions and instead to seek to match the essence of the one who is arriving. And for anyone whose name feels less than resonant, names can always be changed.
I enjoyed this musing and how I would have loved to sit among the Indigenous storytellers and hear the essence and spirit within words.
You have me considering the resonance I have with my own name. My children were named this way, from the mouth of the divine.
Thank you for this!