You Weren’t Given Your Name; You Chose it

You didn’t receive your name.
You chose it.

Maybe not with your mind,
but with the part of you that existed long before breath—
the part that said yes to this life.

Yes to the lessons. Yes to the becoming.

Most people don’t remember that.
They think a name is something they were given.
But you… you might be starting to remember.
The sound you chose.
The energy you wanted to carry.
The spell you cast before your first cry.

I named myself Sharon.
Not because someone else picked it—
but because I did,
before I ever landed in skin.

A name that means “fertile plain.”
An open, living field.
Not empty, but waiting.
Soft, sacred ground for others to meet themselves.

Creation itself.

And I didn’t know it at first.
I only knew that I never quite fit into it the way others expected me to.
But now I understand—
it wasn’t just a name.
It was a code.
A calling.

My middle name is Marie. And only recently did I remember:
Marie is Mary.
The mystic. The priestess.
The one who loved and anointed and walked beside another awakened one.

That too, I chose.
Because I came here carrying the erotic mysteries in my bones.
The risen Christos-Sophia codes.
I have taught it in many other lifetimes.
The knowing that the body is holy,
and pleasure is a path to God.

I chose these names for myself
because I knew what I was here to do.
Because even before I forgot—
I remembered.

In sovereignty,
Sharon

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