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%title Qoheleth --- 2305 :writing:novel:chapter:fiction:scifi:post-self:qoheleth:
It's been long enough that I'm thinking of myself as Qoheleth now. I've even begun introducing myself as Qoheleth whenever I go out, just to try it on for size.
That I've never actually done so is of little concern. It's ancillary to the problem at hand. Something I can tackle later, or at least tackle in thought. I can daydream about the name change. Just plan and plan and plan, like I've planned everything else.
I like the sound of it. I like the way it feels in my mouth when I say it out loud. I like the connotations of 'teacher' and 'gatherer' and 'director of the assembled'. I want to feel the way that it feels to be someone different, and I've found at least a part of that in this name, the name that I chose for myself. Not some line of a poem I wish we would all forget. I've not yet taught or gathered, but I'm working constantly to attain that.
And 'Hebel'. Hebel was another name I picked up. Vain, futile, mere breath.
Qoheleth's words, in the book written so very, very long ago were all about hebel. "This, too, is meaningless," Qoheleth had written after that walk through life and exploring. Try pleasure. Try work. Try prayer. This, too, is meaningless.
That's not how I envision the name, though.
I think of the two names as signifiers. I think of the two sources of names. Not the book, not the time at which it was written. My two sources. Now.
Qoheleth was the name I had given myself out of hope. It's a name of goals and aspirations. It embodies the things that I want to do. It takes all of my plans and me, maker of plans, and binds them up neatly into a word. Ties a pretty bow to the top. A single word. A name and a rejection of the Name.
Hebel was the name I had given myself out of despair. It's a name of self deprecation and a way of reminding myself that, lofty as my goals may be, they're all vanity. Mere breath. Meaningless in the end.
Together, the names remind me that I am doing this for a reason. All of these resources, all of my resources and found objects and hand-me-downs accrued over the years are being built up and strung together into a cohesive goal. A net. Less trap than source of safety. Something to catch. Something to rescue.
They, the resources, are all nothing. The reasons are all nothing. Vapor. Mere breath.
The whole plan is nothing except for the truth underlying it. Not to fear God, but to...to something. To do something. To be something. To get the whole clade to see. My clade.
My old clade. I am not of the Ode any longer.
I am Hebel Qoheleth now.
Hebel Qoheleth.
The old name is dead. I have followed it to the letter: I chose death as I must. As we all must.
I am Hebel Qoheleth.