What's in a Name?

What if you got up New Year's morning and after some short contemplative observances and nectar of the God's (coffee should that be in doubt) you came to "realize" that rather than the "family" moniker that you have been "identified" by, which in my case has been "Mason"no longer held water.

Though I have known since primary school - that being adopted, this name was rather arbitrary where I was concerned. Incidentally this was the environment where, while "learning" to write (my?) name, they were adamant that I could not use both hands alternatively - I "should" only use one. So as I lacked the where with all to conceive an alternative - I wrote "Rob Mason" countless times with those oversized pencils that as I recall weren't stamped "right or left hand only."  and given the above reflection on my grade school experiences is it any wonder when I was perusing some old report cards of mine - found when clearing out my parents house last year, and I read a comment from my grade one teacher:"Robbie" would likely be "more successful" if he participated, it was as though the sky's parted and I then proclaimed out loud - I might have had little sense of who I was - but I most certainly wasn't interested in "participating" in who you were trying to condition me to be!

So then, what if during this morning coffee ritual - you were told in fact you are of the O'Neill dynasty? Would it matter? Would it make any difference? Allow me to answer that - at least from my perspective, Hell ya it makes a difference!!!!!!!!

Now don't get me wrong the "Masons" were a well-meaning bunch, they provided me with a stable home (if stable is said to mean - the same house ongoing and the same two people stood in the roles of parents - without any cast changes). However, despite their best efforts there was nothing they could do to ease my angst with respect to my origins. I frequently wondered - how the hell did I get here? And why here & not over there? So it's "Mason" is it? Could have just as easily been "Alias, Smith or Jones." It was a mystery to me the fuss people made about their ethnicity - I couldn't for the life of me find it in myself to "get" what they meant. Of course the lack of this knowing would haunt me for years to come. I didn't have to wonder if I was different - I knew it! Didn't belong, didn't fit in! "Uncle who? ...... what do you mean "my cousins?" They actually aren't my cousins!

This was further exacerbated when I considered the city I lived in and the country it was part of. I was baffled when people would compliment me on "my beautiful town" - "the streets are so clean!" (I felt like saying - why yes thank you, I made them from scratch!) As if I can take any credit for this town or that town - someone brought me home from the hospital, tagged me with their name, told me I live here now - what part of any of that can I take credit for?

What I do believe is,  I know what it is to lose your "identity" and be assimilated by another group. I know the heart/psyche pain that this causes I have empathy that runs through ever fiber of my being for those that have been (and continue to be) subject to colonialism/imperialism. Did I undergo all the same circumstances? No - not in exactly. Just the same they were thrust upon me without my prior consent and at the dictates of powers outside myself that presumed to know, what was best for me. I know the anguish this has caused meNo concern for ancestry, roots, cultural ways, spirituality - all appeared lost to me, until they weren't.

Upon making application to some government ministry's I have obtained documentation that gave brief biographical information on both my biological parents - as dictated by my mother to a social worker. Some years after that I was reunited with most of my family on her side, which was pretty amazing though at times surreal experience. My mother's side of the family is of British ancestry - my father's is Irish - though I have no idea of his identity. Many things have occurred over the last 3 or 4 years (some subtle, some anything but) that are bringing the ancestry on my father's side to the fore. It's as though that side of the "family" is asserting itself in an effort to have me know "who I am." Why now - after all these years? I have to conclude that time is right. All that has gone on - all the  personal work I have done has, been in preparation for this. I have been to Ireland once - back in 2011 it was the most amazing 2 weeks of my life (which only expanded has I continued to travel another two and a half months in other parts of Europe).

I had read the historical info on the website of the organization that did my dna testing - my gene type is highly concentrated in the North of Ireland and males with this gene subset are said to be direct ancestors of a 4th century king Niall of the Nine Hostages who formed the Ui Neill dynasty. I have read that many times - fascinated by the possibilities. It wasn't until I was reading on New Year's morning an article about Brian Boru and the article went on to say that he became the high king after defeating the Ui Neill (or O'Neill) dynasty. I quipped to myself "the bastard" and then immediately wondered why I would think such a thing. Then the penny dropped - Ui Neill (O'Neill) my heart swelled and tears rolled down my cheeks O'Neill - that's my ancestors - there was no doubt in my heart - plenty in my head!

Without question I will be returning to Ireland - sooner than later! I must continue this personal exploration of the nuture/nature riddle and unfolding mystery.

Perhaps I'll tread lightly should I encounter any O'Brien's maybe though won't embrace the discovery of my ancestry with the same enthusiasm.