Of course it is. After all, the calendar says mid-January, so what can you expect? Here is the view from my kitchen window:
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And here’s the view from the living room window:
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Yup. Definitely still winter.
It’s a beautiful time, full of stillness and rest. Unless you’re out on your skis or snowshoes, it’s a good time to be inside sipping cocoa, reading a good book in front of the fire, while you listen to some beautiful music.
Which reminds me of a beautiful harp piece by Sharlene Wallace on her album Journey of Shadows. Listen to “Winter Still.” Sharlene was my harp teacher in the 90’s, when I would go study at Island Mountain Arts International harp School. These days my poor harps are sadly neglected, but I still love Sharlene! After you’ve heard “Winter Still,” while you’re on that CBC site, listen to some of her other pieces! “Winter Frieze” is another of my favourites.




A rose by any other name… January 5, 2013
Tags: identity, name
I’m still thinking about names…
When I was in Junior high I was known as Shawna, because one teacher in elementary couldn’t get it that my name was SHAWN and that ended up on my records. By the end of high school, I had finally gotten Shawna off all my records.
At our high school reunion this summer, a class mate said, “Your name tag says ‘Shawn.'”
“Yes.” I agreed.
“This yearbook says Shawn,” he said glancing back to the copy Ralph had brought along.
“Yes.” I was on the yearbook committee. I made sure my name was spelled correctly. I also did the calligraphy on our diplomas, so it’s correct there, as well.
“But we always called you Shawna,” he said, looking down on me with confusion.
“Yes.”
“Did we have it WRONG all those years?” His eyes were wrinkled in dismay.
I laughed and said, “Yes.”
He gave me the most sincere look of mortification and said, “I’m so sorry!”
I laughed and told him it was quite all right. The kids I hung around with all knew my name. I wasn’t to concerned about the rest of them, to be honest.
Then I went to Finland, and there they call me either “Soon” (rhymes with ‘phone’) or gave me the Finnish name “Sanna.” When I introduce myself in Finnish, that’s who I am. In French I’m “Jeanne.” In Italian I’m “Gianna.” My doctor calls me “Shawnee.” I am all those people, and all those identities. Each one is essentially the same, but a little bit different. A different language for communication, a slightly different attitude.
So far, I don’t use a pseudonym with my writing, though I imagine eventually I will.
What is your experience? Have you been known by different names? Are you exactly the same, depending upon your name?
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