Let’s Talk About Names

“What’s in a name?” asks William Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet. “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

And yes - if a rose were called a rock, its fragrance would not change.

But human beings are not roses.

Names, for us, are not simply labels. They are invocation. They are vibration. They are memory. They are story.

Words carry meaning beyond their surface definition. They hold frequency. They carry history. They gather energy through centuries of use. And when spoken - especially when spoken repeatedly over a lifetime - they shape identity in subtle, powerful ways.

Intention matters, of course.

Tone matters. Context matters.

But names matter too.

Often far more than we consciously realize.

Spirit Names and Sacred Naming

Across cultures around the world, names are not casually assigned.

In some Indigenous traditions, a person may receive a name at a significant point in their life rather than at birth, and that name can hold personal or spiritual meaning.

In parts of Africa, children may receive names that reflect the circumstances of their birth, ancestral lineage, or divine qualities hoped for in their character.

In Celtic and Norse traditions, names often held literal meanings - “warrior,” “protector,” “fire,” “noble one.” The name was both description and direction.

A name was not decoration.

It was destiny whispered forward.

The Inheritance of Names

Sometimes we inherit the names of our ancestors.

When that happens, we inherit more than sound. We inherit story. We inherit unfinished chapters. We inherit legacy and memory encoded in syllables.

There is something powerful about carrying forward a name that has lived before you.

It is as though history breathes again.

And then there are the names we choose - sometimes with deep meaning, sometimes simply because we “like” them - only to discover later how profoundly aligned they are.

That is where things get interesting.

Tristan

When I named my first son Tristan, it was from love.

The name came from Richard Wagner’s opera Tristan und Isolde - my favorite opera, my favorite love story. That music lives in my bones. It holds memory and emotion and devotion for me.

At the time, that was enough.

What I didn’t know - or perhaps didn’t consciously know - was how many layers the name held.

Tristan appears in Arthurian legend as Sir Tristan, one of the Knights of the Round Table - a noble warrior on a quest of loyalty and honor.

There is also Saint Tristan in Christian tradition - a name that carries spiritual devotion and reverence through centuries of faith. And beautifully, that same name is honored by my all-time favorite band, Led Zeppelin, in their song titled “St Tristan’s Sword”.

The convergence of sacred tradition and the music that has shaped my own life feels anything but accidental.

There is the fiercely independent Tristan Ludlow of Legends of the Fall - untamed, loyal, instinctive.

And then there is the resonance of the name across centuries - warrior, lover, knight, protector.

Today, my son sets his sights on becoming a warrior in the U.S. Navy. Discipline. Honor. Mission.

I could not have scripted it more clearly if I tried.

The name knew.

Aidan

My second son, Aidan, was named from my ancestral Norse lineage. The name means “little fire” - passion, flame, intensity, energy.

And that is exactly who he is.

What I did not know at the time was that Saint Aidan founded & was present at the monastery Lindisfarne in England - the very place that, in recorded history, became the first major Viking raid.

The sacred meeting the fierce.

The monastery and the Norseman.

The spiritual and the warrior.

Tell me that isn’t poetry.

His middle name, Marcus, I chose simply because I liked it.

Years later, as I embarked on my own warrior’s journey of healing and learning, I discovered the writings of Marcus Aurelius - Roman emperor, philosopher, author of Meditations.

Strength. Self-mastery. Duty. Integrity.

Again, the layers reveal themselves over time.

Coincidence or Calling?

We live in a world that has largely forgotten the sacred.

We scroll past ourselves. We elevate influencers over inner wisdom. We value performance over presence.

In that landscape, something as simple as a name can seem trivial.

But when you pause and trace the lineage of a name - the saints, the warriors, the philosophers, the stories - you begin to see that naming is not accidental.

It is alignment.

It is prophecy whispered softly into a newborn ear.

And often, we only understand it years later.

Learning to Become “Beth”

I grew up hating my name.

Beth.

One syllable. Abrupt. Plain. I felt embarrassed when it was spoken. It felt too small, too sharp, too exposed.

It never felt like me.

And yet, now - after the fires of change, after shedding identities that were not truly mine, after walking through grief and growth and rebuilding - the name fits.

Beth means “house” in Hebrew - a dwelling. A foundation. A place to hold space with safety and security.

It is steady.

It is strong.

And interestingly enough, the name has taken on a cultural vibration through the TV series Yellowstone and the fierce, unapologetic character of Beth Dutton. Bold. Loyal. Protective. Unafraid of fire.

I smile at that.

Because long before I saw that character on a screen, I felt those frequencies stirring inside me - before life circumstances told me I was too much, too intense, too loud, too strong.

Now I understand.

The name was never too small.

I was simply growing into it.

Names as Frequency

Your name is spoken thousands upon thousands of times in your lifetime.

Each time, it lands in your nervous system.

Each time, it reinforces a narrative - whether conscious or subconscious.

If names carry vibration - and I believe they do - then perhaps part of our work in this lifetime is to grow into the highest expression of them.

To ask:

What does my name mean?

Who carried it before me?

What qualities does it whisper?

What is it inviting me to embody?

And if you feel misaligned with your given name?

…You are allowed to rename yourself.

Cultures have done this for centuries. Artists adopt stage names. Writers choose pen names. Spiritual leaders rename themselves after transformation.

Sometimes the old name no longer fits the soul you have become.

And that too is sacred.

A Final Thought

A rose may smell as sweet by any other name.

But human beings are not roses.

We are story. We are lineage. We are frequency woven through generations.

Our names are not accidents.

They are invitations.

And perhaps the most powerful thing we can do is not merely carry our names - but consciously embody them.

So I ask you:

What is your name asking of you?

And are you ready to answer?