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Category Archives: random thoughts
weekly wonder Aug 12, 2010 11:59 am
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weekly wonder Aug 05, 2010 07:59 pm
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Perhaps I should introduce myself
I should begin by introducing myself: You can call me Murphy Daley.
But that is not my name.
When I was born—my mother’s fourth child—she named me Elizabeth. As she later told me, she chose that name because then I could be called any number of nicknames. Wikipedia lists almost a hundred names that can be derived from Elizabeth; Beth, Liz, Elly just to name a few.
MY family called me Lisa.
So where did I get Murphy?
Names are special things. You have probably heard that Native Americans will go on a retreat to find a name. They look for a vision or a sign to indicate a name with special meaning, one that will guide a person’s destiny. They often use the name of an animal or some other part of nature that will impart its qualities to the name-bearer.
Little Lisa—me—grew up and didn’t like the child-person she was to her family. I didn’t want to be called Lisa. I didn’t want to be little sister and over-protected daughter. I wanted to be someone more powerful and significant.
I wanted a new name.
Names—proper names—are very difficult to remember. I know when I go to an event where I meet tons of new people, I am at sea.
This is Bill…Meet Jane…and Dave, and Jim and Dave again…and Sue…
I remember none of their names.
My linguistics professor explained why. Proper names are without context. They exist as empty boxes, filled with your impressions of that person. For some, it is the face. I never remember faces. It is stories about the person or a vibe I get that helps me place a new person. The name almost never sticks with me.
A name is an empty container of a word, filled only with the opinions and expectations of others.
On the other hand, the container itself holds a little meaning. When I chose my baby’s name, I had to think of who held the name before she did and what mark had been left on it.
For example, after World War 2, very few children were named Adolf. It used to be a common name.
My daughter Veronica will remind people of the beautiful actress Veronica Lake and the rich selfish teenager of Archie comics. I’m okay with that, because she will soon remind people of her own magnificent self.
My name Murphy was a silly nickname that a college boyfriend gave me. No one else called me that for several years after.
But then I moved. I came to California and got a job that required a name tag. They were ready to print “Elizabeth,” my legal name, on the tag. I stopped them, ready to tell them to call me Lisa as my family did.
Then I felt a surge of power. No one in that building knew me. I could tell them to call me anything. I was at the helm of my own ship.
“Put Murphy on the name tag,” I instructed the shift manager. She accepted this with no comment.
I was Murphy.
Walk tall. Act like it’s always been this way.
People really liked the name. No one forgot it. They played with it, calling me Murph and Murphster. Maybe they even liked me!
This story I am sharing is meant for the purpose of letting you get to know me. However, time is too short for that purpose. I have cracked the door on the story of my name because I want you all to know yourselves.
I am not the person I was asked to be. I am myself, and I chose who that person would be. You all have to same power of self-determination. Grasp the wheel of your destiny and make your stand. Something as small and significant as one word can be a start.
[this was my icebreaker toastmaster’s speech]
I did notice even if I didn’t post
This monday was the Summer solstice–an auspicious day for beginning and or endings.
What would you like to call an end to? What would you like to start?
Remember, the summer hasn’t really begun to sum yet. The 21st of June just means that it will start to ever-so-slightly get darker. Just a few little moments less day light every day until it is dark cold winter.
SO much change from just ever so slight changes. It’s inspiring.
Special
I’ve been learning from my daughter not to be so shallow.
For years–my whole life?–I’ve been consumed with the desire to be special. I was fairly convinced that I was not special, and really wanted to be so. I could ask myself “Why should you think YOU are special?” and any answer could be easily rebutted and discarded.
i had to have a REASON. I had to KNOW.
Veronica will be 16 months old this weekend. SHe’s been in my life for a long time. I love her, and I think she’s special. But the question remained “what makes HER so special?” She is a beautiful amazing child.
But every mother thinks this of her baby. She’s no different.
And the pain I went through–that I still go through–brining her into this world and up through life was monumental, life-changing and DIFFICULT. Just like all the other mothers and their babies. No different.
So I was being pulled, trying to find a path to special in this land of ‘no different’ that I walked through.
I don’t know how, but watching Veronica as she got ready for bed the other day…I saw the special. She is special. She plays with her toes just like every baby, but she DOES do it different. She is wonderful, beautiful and amazing just like every other baby, but she does it HER way.
I finally got it. That special means unique. It means snowflake. Nobody else like you.
Nobody else in the history of the world ate Cheerios just exactly the way Veronica does. Millions of babies have eaten Cheerios–the category is no different. But no one does it exactly the way she does.
And I appreciate that. Appreciation should be the outcome of special. EVERYONE is special. But not every person will be appreciated for their special unique qualities by every single other person.
It’s the appreciation that allows special to be so special.
So, instead of feeling that I shouldn’t be silly in talking of all the small things about my daughter, I am now free to notice and appreciate every single little thing. How she breathes–she has these adorable little sighs of satisfaction or thoughtfulness–and how she loves the dog and the cat and every little thing.
I’m wondering if I can do that for myself, too.
MORE
Sitting at home after a very exhausting day at work, and then an exhausting day at home while the husband recovers from sick.
I want to be doing something productive. But I’m too tired to move.
Can sleep be productive? Maybe…
you won’t BELIEVE what’s happening at the Daley Bulletin..
today was awesome
so i was very wrong, today was hard and wonderful
I hate making mistakes
I was sick last week, and it was jampacked with projects I had to do. And then there was this last minute emergency…
And the perfect storm of screwing up my monday began.
This not only screwed up MY monday but the vortex dragged down anyone who was nearby. It probably wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been sick.
But I was. And when I woke up this morning at 3 to feed my baby, I went back to bed thinking how the day was going to be long and arduous. Then I realized I had pulled down at least 3 other people into the vortex with me.
That made me feel VERY guilty and stupid. WHich of course meant I wasn’t going back to sleep.
Now a day that was GOING to last from 5 to 9 instead will be lasting from THREE to Nine. I hope I can avoid swimming in a sea of self-loathing all day.
My last thought before abandoning the bed was “Maybe I need to really get a calendar that I use EVERY day.”
I am going to have to slog through today. I hope I can find some positivity in it.