We believe the idea of a butterfly effect not because we see it reflected in our natural surroundings, but primarily because we feel it’s truth flowing through the currents of our own lives. Every event in our youth is a flapping; its ripples carry forth and shape the coming landscape of our selves.

Time’s relativity to our consciousness makes it so. In those first, early moments of our cognizance each new event stands tall; a monument in comparison to our scant experience. Every second is as if an eternity to an older self. (Is amnesia rebirth?)

Further back still, beyond the veil of our earliest recognition, minuscule yet primordial events mold us. Seeming trivialities may be sea changes in our make up. A father’s offhand remark may sour a mothers’ mood, flooding underestimated neurochemicals into amniotic fluid and causing a fetal axon to drift just so, the child’s psychology forever altered. Rewind more, how might a parents’ own gestation have effected their gametes, their uterus, and thus their future offspring? What of grandparents, great grand parents, and beyond? Each generation is a change in magnitude.  When seen this way every whimsy or chance happening of our progenitors rends a tear in time/space. So too do all our actions and circumstances; life is constant flux.

So I set about picking a name for you. How, when I am so easily waylaid imagining the devastating potentialities?! And yet I have little choice, I must surrender. The right name speaks itself and is known. The tides of my life have already made the decision before me. I am but the buoy on the cresting wave. Yet I too make ripples.

Maybe I’ll call you Mariposa or Caos, Huracán or Seth, Typhoon or Neptune. What are you? I was warned to keep of the grass, but I haven’t! How has each of my errant steps trod you out? What will my haphazard make of you now? Regardless, it’s always a constant journey of discovery. So, Odysseus or Peregrine, Travis or Roam, Wander or Wendel, Sojourn, or perhaps just Sally will do.

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