In college I spent a single summer day at a children’s camp affiliated with my university. As with everyone at the camp, I left my given name behind at the front entrance. For the duration of my brief stay, I assumed a new name: “Winter.”
The beauty of being Winter in that place was that I got to choose what being Winter meant. Unlike in everyday life, I felt no pressure to live up or down to other people’s expectations of me. I was neither confused nor constrained by the reflections of my past in others’ eyes. As Winter I felt free to be truly me. It was a lesson I brought back to the “real” world at the end of the day, along with the wooden name badge I have never thrown away.
I wish I could remember whether I chose the name Winter or it was given to me by the people who ran the camp. Either way, it suits me. Winter is dark and deep. It is the season of cold days and warm hearths, of contemplation and the renewal of acquaintances. It is a time to look back before leaping forward anew. And so Winter is one of my real names. Have you discovered yours?
