[Testing my wings at Burning Man, circa 2006]
Do you have a cup of tea? You might want one for this post…it’s a bit of journey in and of itself. I promised I would go out with a bang, so here goes. May I present…the never before told story of my most daring and life-changing act to date…
The story of changing my name.
It may come as no surprise that my Irish-English-German-Midwestern parents did not actually give me the groovy name of Flora when I was born in Green Bay, Wisconsin, in 1974. Nope, not even close. Instead, they gave me a good ol’ fashioned Irish name. They named me Shannon. And, honestly, I liked my name. I never ever for one second considered changing my birth name, but as it turns out, another name was waiting for me all along.
It’s difficult to know where to start this story because in some ways it is the story of my entire life, but for the sake of brevity, I’m going to fast forward thirty years to the moment I decided to hightail it down to the Katrina-ravaged Gulf coast. I can honestly say I don’t know why I felt such an intense urgency to help with that situation, but every time I saw footage of the flooding, the stranded people, the city under water, the entire coast wiped off the map, I was literally moved to tears. After sitting with those feeling of helplessness and rage for a few weeks, I decided to do something about it.
With a backpack full of essentials, a tent, a sleeping bag and a desire to help, I secured a ride with a stranger from Craigslist, and a few days later I landed in the center of New Orleans. This was three weeks after Katrina, so you can imagine what the city looked like—or maybe you can’t? I certainly never thought I would see this kind of destruction in my lifetime, and definitely not in the United States. To say it was intense and overwhelming and hard to comprehend would be a gross understatement.
Through a series of events including more Craigslist magic, I ended up getting a ride in the back of a dark moving truck from New Orleans to Waveland, Mississippi. Rumor had it there was a group of “hippies” there serving food and they always needed more helping hands. Sure enough, when the back of the truck opened and the sun spilled in, I found myself in the middle of a parking lot full of colorful people running around with boxes of potatoes and carrots—smiles on their faces.
Quickly, I learned the ropes and became enmeshed in one of the most beautiful human happenings I have ever experienced. This rag-tag group of people had one thing in common and that was their desire to make a difference and help people in need. I spent the next month cutting vegetables, serving salad, sweeping the parking lot and giving the occasional massage to the most grateful people I have ever encountered. After about month, the “New Waveland Cafe” dissolved, but a group of about ten of us knew there was plenty more work to be done on the Gulf Coast. We formed a non-profit called, Emergency Communites, and searched for a new location for our kitchen. We were embraced whole-heartedly by the government officials of St. Bernard Parish, right next the the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans.
{And, yes, I swear this all relates to my name change}
For the next four months, I lived in a tent (see below) and worked as the volunteer coordinator for our relief center and kitchen, aptly named, “The Made with Love Cafe.” Everyday, we served about 2,000 healthy meals to anybody who was hungry. As you might imagine, this job involved a million different tasks all involving…people. For the first time in my life, I found myself in a leadership position. Everyday, I found myself standing in front of groups of people giving orientations, coordinating teams and reaching out online to recruit more volunteers. I was also chosen as one of the main spokespeople to represent our community to reporters who inevitably came looking for a good Katrina story—we were a pretty awesome story, I must say.
[Emergency Communities tent city, circa 2006]
My six months on the Gulf Coast (I had planned to be there for two weeks…ha!) were simultaneously the most difficult, rewarding and life-changing six months of my life. By the end of my time there, I had a new sense of myself as a leader, a whole new group of amazing friends and a deep satisfaction for the change I knew I had made. However, I also had mold in my lungs, post-traumatic stress syndrome and a serious need to touch the earth again (the ground in St. Bernard was too toxic to touch, so our whole world was set up on pallets). My soul needed to rebuild itself in a pretty major way, so after a quick art show at a New Orleans gallery where I perfectly made a enough money to get back on my feet, I booked a flight to Costa Rica where I could regroup and figure out my next bold move.
During my third week in Costa Rica, I found myself sitting in a natural hot springs pool, surrounded by tropical flowers with an active volcano erupting in the distance (true story). I was traveling with two friends at the time and one of them jokingly said, “You need a new name.” You see, Spanish speakers do not have the “SH” sound in their language so pronouncing Shannon was proving to be a bit of a stumbling block every time we met locals. So, without hesitation, I dipped my head under the water and quickly racked my brain for the most Spanish sounding female name I could come up with. I emerged and declared ‘Flora’ as my new name.
It was a joke.
However, these two friends took the name to heart, and for the rest of the trip they called me Flora. The interesting thing is that every time my friends called me Flora, my heart kinda fluttered. I LOVED this name! It still felt foreign and jokey, but I could not deny the other feelings this name inspired. It made me feel empowered, beautiful, more alive, more…in bloom 🙂
After my trip to Costa Rica, I decided to move to Portland, Oregon. I didn’t know one single person there, but the draw to this city full of creatives was strong, so I made the leap. I quickly met some amazing people and we all decided to go to Burning Man for the first time together. I heard that it was typical for people to take on “playa names” at Burning Man, so I decided to be ‘Flora’ for the week. Why not? It felt like a fun chance to embody this beloved name for a little bit longer.
What I did not see coming was the HUGE life changing experience that my first trip to Burning Man would become. In this dusty desert, anything seemed possible, including the ability to re-create yourself in whatever ways you desired. All around me, I witnessed people expressing themselves FULLY. One of the ethos of Burning Man is participation, meaning there is no divide between audience and performers. In theory, there are no spectators. In the desert, we are all participants, creating our experience collectively and spontaneously, moment-to-moment.
During that profound week, I found myself stepping into a way of being that I had been craving for the past fifteen years. I could literally feel my heart opening, my confidence growing and my body shifting to embody a more empowered version of myself. I was becoming more brave, more expressive and more resilient everyday. It seems crazy to think I could go through such a powerful transformation in just seven days, but I’m pretty sure every moment of my life had been building towards that experience in the desert. My time on the Gulf Coast was a huge part of the story, followed by my healing time in Costa Rica, my bold move to Portland and then seven days experimenting with “radical self expression.” The fact that I was ‘Flora’ during those seven days felt really profound. It was as if ‘Flora’ represented this new version of myself—the version I was so ready to become.
[The Temple @ Burning Man, a place for letting to of what you no longer need. Oh, and we burn it down on the last night just to make the point.]
After Burning Man, I found myself back in Portland and back to Shannon, but every time I heard this name, it suddenly felt like the “old me.” I craved ‘Flora’ and all the associations I now had with that beautiful name. One night, it occurred to me that I had the power to change my name, to redefine my entire being. WOAH. Really? This hit me like a ton of bricks. It was scary because I think on a soul level I knew this is what I needed to do, but seriously? Flora? My family would officially think I’m crazy. And, what about all the work I had done to establish my artist self with my other name? What about www.shannonbowley.com?
If this was going to actually happen, this was going to be BIG.
For the next couple of weeks, I sat with this seemingly crazy idea. I swear I had sleepless nights worrying about what everybody would think. Yet another hippie changing her name…how annoying! But, there was something much much bigger happening here. This name, this newly empowered person was choosing me, and it was my job to…listen. Eventually, I caved. I felt like I had no other choice. I told my entire family I was now Flora. (Holy shit, that was scary). My 87-year old dad still calls me Shannon, and I totally understand, but every other person on the planet now calls me Flora…
and I love it.
I officially changed my name seven years ago, and like I said, it was absolutely the boldest and most empowering thing I have ever done. This idea of stepping into and renaming yourself as the person you know deep down you want to be is a pretty amazing concept. To believe you have the power to change yourself and how you show up in the world is a pretty fucking radical idea actually (pardon my language, but I’ve refrained from dropping the f-bomb until I really really needed it to make a point 🙂 ).
Every year since I changed my name, I have felt myself embody ‘Flora’ more and more. After decades of believing I was ugly and awkward—a wall flower without a voice, I literally started to change the way I perceived myself. I started to see myself as beautiful, unique (vs. awkward), smart, able to lead and able to stand strong in my power. This definitely didn’t happen overnight and I believe this kind of transformation never actually ends (as proven by these last 30 days), but the fact that my very name represented the person I was striving to become, was a very crucial part of my transformation.
{Wow. Are you still there?}
This story ended up being a lot longer than I intended, and it actually could have been ten times longer, but there you have it. My “name coming out story” finally set free for all to know! It sure felt good to share that with you and I hope you enjoyed it. And, just as my new name signified the beginning of a new chapter in my life, so does the conclusion of this 30-Day Blog Love Affair. Instead of dreading my blog writing “homework,” I now feel all kinds of excitement and loving anticipation when I think about writing more posts in the future. I can assure you this is certainly not the end.
It is only the beginning.
Thank you so much for joining me for ride.
Until next time…
xo flora
[Embracing ‘Flora’, circa 2008. Photo by Tyson Robichaud]