"what's in a name? a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

in my phsyiological psychology class today we were talking about selective attention -- which implies intentionality and volition in the selecting of what i (or anyone else) is paying attention to. this is really besides the point and more along the mind/brain question we come up against every class.

at any rate, in the studying of selective attention, some fascinating experiments have been done. One by Colin Cherry. In this study, subjects were given headphones, with a different voice saying different things into each ear. the subject was asked to shadow one of the voices (shadowing is repeating what someone is saying while the continue talking). Then the did different things, like adding a beep into one ear phone or the other, or changed what was going on in the ear phone that wasn't being shadowed, such as changing the language multiple times, or changing the gender of the person speaking... things like that. Afterwards, subjects were asked about what they heard from the ear phone they hadn't been shadowing. Only two things came up: if the gender changed or if they heard their name. If it was in the ear they weren't listening to, they didn't hear the added in beeps, they didn't notice the language change, had no idea of content -- but they did hear their names (brain activity was monitored as well, and there were not event potentials related to what went on in the nonselected ear).

and in class we mentioned the cocktail experiment which i think the gist is if you're at a cocktail party, all the noise and chattering and craziness, but if your name is said, you hear it.

As my friend Earl would tell you, I am obsessed with naming things. In my last blog, I named the things that I am mourning. I name the things that make me happy, that make me afraid or upset or stressed. some how by being able to name them, they stop being overwhelming. it's not to say that by naming the fact that graduating in a mere few months both terrifies and excites me that I no longer feel terrified or excited but rather that the terror loses its all consuming hold. i can name it and so live with it. and with the excitement ... well there is a proper time and place for that as well.

naming. i was gchatting with one of the women i studied with in El Salvador and she used my name in the conversation. and i felt so known. i don't use people's names when i am talking with them, most of the time its obvious to whom i am speaking so i don't say it. but to be called by name, to be named and so known and so loved. almost a calling, to be named, to be called to myself, into myself. Yes. this is me, this is who i am -- and you, you who are calling me are therefor part of that, part of the essence of me. and not in a way that is consuming and identity losing to the other person, but rather in the way that together we are more who were, together we be.

as Sister P said "I am called to be more me, more P" and that call never happens in a vacuum, never happens in isolation.

As I think of being called into myself, my name, this common journey we are all on together, I think of this image from El Salvador, this image of these knots inside of me, all the crazy funny happy tearful mess, this mess of knots, but among the knots, the hands of those who love me, helping me carry it, helping me untangle it, there with me amidst all of my messiness. and there is a naming in that as well.

they called me "Cris" in El Salvador. "Cris, Cris!" -- and it felt like a naming me as their own.

and i have a nick name that is used for the first time in my life -- i'm not good at nicknames, coming up with them for myself or others, but there's something special about it, a naming of a person, a naming of a relationship. something powerful, something real. something to hold on to.

something sacred.