By J. Reed
I had a client I had been working with for several months, who, when we were very close to a breakthrough, would back off.
I was having trouble getting her beyond this point. I tried everything and I was ready to refer her to another practitioner. Before doing that, I decided to sit down and review my notes again and the work we had been doing together.
What I noticed, was that her timeline seemed to have been erased at a certain point even though there was nothing noticeably “traumatic” that had happened. She remained somehow persistently disconnected from any emotional or cellular memories prior to that point in time, somehow persistently disconnected from the earlier events of her life as if they had happened to someone else.
She could recite them, but there was no stake in the game.
When we had our next standing appointment, I decided to ask more specifically what had happened around the time before this apparent disconnect.
What she told me validated again that my notes were correct and revealed nothing significant. I persisted, digging for more detail. Still no charge, no new information.
All I knew was that around that time, she had moved and started a new career—two important changes in anyone’s life. Even though we had tapped on those changes, and there had been no charge, I continued to dig deeper. Instinctively, I knew there was more to be uncovered, but I had no idea what it was, nor did she.
The move itself had been uneventful, as was her new job.
I asked her to slow the movie way down, slide-by-slide, and begin telling me what she remembered, starting with her first day at work. She laughed and told me it was interesting because the wife of the administrator had come up to her at the lunch table and introduced herself and, as it turned out, they were both surprised to learn that they had the same name.
She said that it was an unusual name and she took an immediate liking to her boss’s wife.
They got to visiting and talking about their name, and this woman jokingly asked my client if she thought there was enough room for two of them to be there with the same name. (It was a small, intimate company and everyone worked closely together, so it seemed like a reasonable question.)
Without hesitation, my client said, “I’d been wanting an excuse to change my name for years, so I jumped at the opportunity. It was like a gift to me. I had given it a lot of thought before then and already knew without hesitation what I wanted to be called. I made the change immediately and never looked back.”
I asked her what her name was before that day and when she told me, I just said, “Okay, so let’s start on the karate chop point and just begin to call out your name.” She thought she had misunderstood me.
I repeated it, beginning with:
Even though my current name is ______, my previous name was _________, and I love and accept both names.
Even though my current name is _______, and I used to be called _________, I accept and respect both names and all the parts and events they represent.
Even though my current name is _______, my previous name was _________, and I respect and embrace all of me and all I have ever been through no matter what my name was or what I used to be called.
We began tapping round on the points, just calling out her previous name, nothing else. After about three rounds, it was as though she went into a trance. I could not stop her and I did not want to stop her. Something very important was happening. We went on and on, just calling out her name. The speed and inflection and tone changed, but nothing else was said or spoken. Round after tapping round.
At a certain point, she started to cry as she called out her previous name.
She wept and wept and kept calling loudly, softly, sternly, gently, calling and calling, tapping and tapping, and then it all softened, she softened, everything got very quiet and intimate, as if she was having this private conversation, as if she was asking her old self to come back, as if she had called on a part of her long gone, an old and very dear friend, an old and very dear connection.
She later told me that it was as if all the memories in the cells of her body that had been associated with her first name started to awaken and she began to access them again, access parts of herself she buried when she changed her name, buried without thanks or recognition, without knowing, without thinking. It was as if she had left behind her past, a large part of her life, and now, it was back and she was in touch with it again and she was rejoicing on a very deep level, connected and connecting, in touch and touching.
This was an enormous surprise and an enormous breakthrough for both of us.
I experienced the power in a name, and now have a newfound respect for it, the power of calling it out, the power of digging deep, the power of taking and keeping good notes, and the power of trusting myself and my intuition.
A name is a vibration and subtle vibratory parts of our selves are connected to that vibration, deeply and profoundly associated with those parts.
When through trauma or an otherwise innocent decision like changing ones name disrupts our association with that vibration, the connection is fractured and something once owned is in some profound way disassociated.
The effects, though small, like ripples on the surface of a pond, can affect us in ways we cannot imagine.