I have never been tempted to change my name. But as comfortable with it as I am, I can easily imagine setting it aside — all of it, first, middle, and last — not to replace it, but to do without a name entirely.
I can also imagine doing without mirrors. In their own way, mirrors are as dangerous and destructive as guns, and being addicted to one’s reflection might even be considered a slow form of suicide.
And so here I am, with no name, and no mirrors. The mirrors have all been replaced with freshly painted walls, artwork, photographs, or other kinds of decoration.
What will my life be like without looking at myself several times a day, even if just in passing? Will people still recognize me? Will I be myself without a name? Is it possible my name will pursue me out of loneliness? Or will it decide to shave its hair and eyebrows and lose itself in a crowd of beggars?
None of this is necessary, of course. All that is needed is that I set aside my attachments, and realize that I am not my name, my body, my thought, my ability, my reputation, my own shining reflection.
March 10, 2021. Late afternoon.
Now the Little Crocus
Now the little crocus has been joined by another.
Both are a soft yellow — as if to say,
We need go nowhere to be noticed,
Or to find joy, or to seek silence.
And our leaves are one upon the other.
Can you imagine how that feels?
Names fall away.
What remains is a prayer.
Recently Banned Literature, January 28, 2018
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