Untitled (Part One): L'existence précède l'essence

PREFACE
What follows is the beginning of a series of writings begun on paper over a month ago. I'm still working on a title since each section is very different in subject (and length), although there are a few common themes that come up. Some are more personal and some are even more surreal. This one, the beginning, is more anecdotal and philosophical. Lector caveat.


L’EXISTENCE PRÉCÈDE L’ESSENCE

The ancients claimed that names hold power over an individual’s soul, and that knowing one’s true name opens the door to their ego, set apart and sanctified from the universe at large in a sea of cosmic consciousness common to every being in existence—and speaking an otherwise meaningless moniker draws together the fabric of creation to form an entity. In the same way magicians and wonderworkers and high priests call on the high powers that birthed our race to draw near and touch the world with their archetypal footsteps across the minds of all who have sentience, or so it is said.
My name is Diogenes.

I once met a wise man who might be a sage, though not even the gods know for sure, only the man himself. Many in the course of history have passed as sages and led people astray into believing so while they rightly were not. But many more remained silent, understanding that no other can certainly know what title they deserve. The man I met did not care either way because he was too concerned with finding his identity; somewhere along the way he dissociated his ego from selfhood and his name became meaningless to him. When I asked what to call him, he shrugged his thin shoulders, shook his long red head, and said, “Anything you want.” His companions said he was called Menelaus. The ancients would have called a warrior-kind the same; but of course they would have thought me to be a rebellious beggar, a barking stray dog.
A mutual friend who always catches my attention added his given name, “his slave name.” In a way we are all given slave names, whether former slaves or depersonalized or both or neither. Anything binding makes slaves. Given addresses leave no choice in one’s own identity, which makes them powerless beyond what society credits them with, like laws or money. There is no doubt in their reality—after all, society does exist to lend them influence. The real use of our chains lies in protection, for masters do wise to care for their slaves; in the same way I use my given name to protect myself from tainting influences of social demands. These only see a slave, and so I remain free.

The thoughts rushing through my mouth largely missed their target. Menelaus (if that is his name after all) was still busy wondering who he was, and I realized then that most of my companions had not revealed their self-discovered titles to me. Astoundingly, most people don’t know for themselves, or else relinquish authority to what has been placed upon them by others and not by experience, which is the key to the soul. The soul of Menelaus kept pacing in contemplation by the water, roaming the vast universe in the seas of consciousness.