I have been working on this reply for hours, until I was beset with melancholia.
It didn't help that my son popped in .... very cheerful and relaxed for a change, which should be wonderful, but not any more. I will not bite. It is always never going to be fair. I find this mirrored in all things concerning the financial-political side of this place here. All the more so while reflecting on very complex things like names.

This morning, in our communications (I no longer can speak about voices in my head. You are present) I asked you (around 7, well before you ever called me Suki here) what you called me. Did you call me at all? To name and to call are not the same.

You could have referred to me in any number of ways. Like I call my neighbours Mr. Office Shoes, or Mr Tarsier, for being pompous or very spooky - eventhough I don't "call" them at all. (I am a woman afterall, they wouldn't stand for it.)

I could have been sukhasansister (no capital) like a word you see everyday. Not a mouthful to relish, unless you are a snake.

I asked you about my name; and myself what you attributed it to - Suki being exclusive to the "page" before you extracted it from a little more than just an idea of the person sukhasanasister has to be. I remember, fretting over putting down a name; it was a very considered decision, born specifically out of an immediate understanding that I was not here like everybody else. I felt like an intruder (not a fraud, but no belonging). Still "I had to be here" (project wise). Suki, was my apology, so I thought, I'd be fine if people inferred that was the root to my pen name. In the vein of "call me Al", it's still only me.

Suki was very little to hand out while everybody was taking selfies of themselves with signs and dates in their introductions to verify they were legit. Turns out I have ended up giving all of myself away. Including my real name.

A complicated concept, but to all extents and purposes I am like the dead: a real person, but not someone you call for dinner, or call to ask if they've seen your keys, or call when you've lost them in the mall (not a likely place) library (no raising of voices, please) station (too noisy to try: a whistle works better; but I'm not likely to have made one with anyone, that I would recognise in turn, because my whistle doesn't carry too well) ... okay, so I better not get lost,... is that what names are for? Deictics? Would cats mind being called cat? Plenty are. Plenty are never called at all. The name domesticates. The Bethel of the heart.

A few days ago, I was lying in bed, briefly, and couldn't recall what avatar I had used. So little had I chosen it with any purpose. It fit the non-descript profile I was after without adopting a different persona. I even forgot (just now) what the Zen circle was called. Enso. Of course. I can't even remember what it stands for. I've lost everything. I can only feel. I'd be a fool not to be scared. Of not knowing what to do next, of the proposterous calculations made (sums that don't even yet exist) that now only seem risk. Nothing can be undone - people with karma have an easy time of it compared to those who work towards a karma neutral agreement.

The circle stands for "what cannot be explained: Instead, it has to be experienced..." Hiding in plain sight my new I, all along.

My gamer friend had called himself circle-without-a-line. The pretentiousness of it annoyed me at first. What did it mean? No, I think what irritated me was that he would never know what it meant (and had got it out of some book). How dare he dangle a carrot? It's unfair. But that's life. Or how we make it. By choice as much as non-choice is; de-cision, that which cuts up into fragments, fractions, he a bit more than she, they each have half, mine and thine.

Although, I can see anything without a line, my circle has a line to help everybody along. I proably had it in my pictures folder because I like how it defined so simply everything and nothing (mu=void). The circle can be open or closed, with a fairly obvious different quality to it (flowing or completed).
When I googled it this afternoon the first hit gave wikipedia, of course, and read: "to express a moment when the mind is free to let the body create."
Again, this new uncertain self has been pre-defined all along.

Is that not what a name does? When parents "baptise" you with a name: connect you to the frequency by which you shall record all events, expecially in the formative years. Your report cards, your diplomas, your birthday cards.

We may not know it, a name is the main influencer of your personality, by a kind of blessing (or curse) your parent make in naming you. At first the name does not belong to you, you grow into it. You live up to your name. It's why we say baby Archie, instead of Archibald. But sometimes the name hinders you from becoming yourself (and not your parents' hazy vision of you). If you are called Zowie Bowie, it must become really annoying on the schoolyard, to the point you want to be a more sober (or not) sounding Scot (Duncan).

I was going to leave it entirely up to you, even my real name I'd give to you on paper after I had decided on the spelling, for you to intuit who I am in its pronounciation. Who I am to you. What sits most comfortably. You don't need the "whole identity" which supposedly is tied to a name. Because mine isn't. Because I am not, and never thought I was whomever I was designated to be. It is all a role. That is what motherhood taught me. After hearing little else, the past 16 years than MAMA!! MAAAAAMAAAA!!! Dear Mummy, Mother dearest...? or Mrs. , sounding to my ears like the wife of my father. To complicate matters further, my son has my surname, which is the one of my father, which I find karmically appropriate. In the meantime, I free it up for him to have them assume he is carrying the name of his father, by adopting another surname in informal daily life, one the Spanish could pronounce.

Letting these things churn a little in my heavy head, I see the long, long line stretched out from who I really am and never did not know. What do I call myself then? As I progressively start mumbling to the dippy one who burned the dinner twice before getting it right today (rare event, but who knows maybe part of the new me....if don't cook every day anymore, I am going to forget how!).

I don't think I'm that far down the line that I chide myself by any name. But I do sign my letters or cards to family (3x, my sister will not celebrate her birthday) or annotate my notes to distinguish them from other quotes with the name my sister gave me because she couldn't pronounce the nickname my mother had given me six years earlier shortly after my birth, and is the only one she and my sister ever use. (My father remains more formal.) I most identify with this name. And wouldn't you know, give or take/change a syllable Suki is not a million miles away from those very beginnings.

It give all this "what's in a name" a more preponderant side.
It also gives you a definitive role in declaring all of this was "rigged" from the beginning: to birth something new. Which wasn't made today but already over half a century ago. But it is now allowed to be - under whatever name. A name is but a signifier that something significant exists.