Give it a name.

Sometimes the most meaning isn't found in the magnificent, but in the mundane. So this is a story of a dog.

This isn't my dog. I don't know the name of this dog. I don't even know if this dog has a name. I'm sure that's ok for the dog but that's the thing about people: we love to give things names. Most obviously, we name our children. Then our pets. But we also name our cars, our TV remotes, our instruments, our houses and boats and whatever else we can possibly attribute some sort of personality trait to. I'm not pointing fingers; I do it too.

I love to name things - it gives them a kind of life and power that they didn't have before. I do however have trouble giving names to emotions. So I use euphemisms like "it's just a blue day" or "feeling a little weighted" instead of calling it out by name.

Sadness. Rage. Disappointment. Fear. Excitement. Anticipation. Terror. Contentment. Courage. It gives them a kind of life and power that they didn't have before. But it also gives me a kind of power; it also gives me a kind of life to know that I am living... even with all these named things in my chest.

So back to the dog that may or may not have a name. It's possible to train a dog, as I'm sure you know. It's possible to train a dog if you give it a name it can respond to - inflections, pitch, nuance, syllables.

It's possible to train emotions too. If you give them each a name.