Monday, April 13, 2009



I have been reflecting on the subject of anonymity, since it sometimes comes up as a question.

Why write anonymously?

In the past I have been gratified to see my name in print on over one hundred published magazine articles, seven books, various writings appearing on the Internet, etc.

But a definite identification occurs with this. There is a “reputation” (at least in the writer’s mind) to maintain, an image to uphold.

Those considerations seem limiting and counterproductive right now. More important is the freedom to express whatever emerges, however difficult that may be for me to get out or for a reader to get in.

Also, what does it matter what we call ourselves? Names are just labels after all, arbitrary appellations.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” said Shakepeare (which may not have been his true name).

And finally, are we not all ultimately anonymous? Do I know myself? Not really.

So can anyone else expect to do so?

If my name clings after the body is gone, I'll let you know.

Until then,

I am Nesia
Living in an Onymity


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  2. I can see your beauty even through the bag.
    Love your heart and mind!

  3. This is so interesting to me and timely as the day before yesterday I asked;
    "What's in a name?" and also remembered it being said, 'Our name is our virtue'. I wrote a journal entry about it. My last name, my maiden name, means, 'Wild boar foaming at the mouth'... and has not changed lol. I appreciate all you share, and all the comments, whether invisibly coming through a name or not. And, as with everyone, if I got the feeling you were hiding, it becomes a great opportunity to ask, " Where am I hiding and judging myself?" Hmmmmmm a rose by any other name...a wild boar by any other name? lol...
    Thanks Nesia, for all you give. :)

  4. i like the not knowing its beautiful and so are you. i love your words and expressions which does not require a label to feel. thank you for what you are not who you are.