On the birth of pen name and self

Angels are real.

It’s not fashionable to say so — not if one wants others to listen — but they are. Survey the length of recorded history, and you will find myriad testimony to support the claim.

Angels are real.

And really, what hubris we children of the 20th century boast, when we stand in the face of all of those elders, those searchers and seekers, wisdom keepers and story tellers, and say that we are wiser still, because we know science.

Angels are real.

They are not real like this chair, or that water or my phone bill. They are real like love is real, and tears, and dreams, and orgasm.

I first saw my angel in hindsight, through the clouded gaze of memory and dream. She was beautiful. She had wings. It really was something. I liked her very much. I was glad to know that she was there, that she would be there…

The second time I saw my angel was when I first dropped acid. I’m a bit skeptical of that sighting, only because I had eaten that little OM shaped pill specifically to go and find her, so I was biased. That time, she did not have wings. That time, she turned my acid-lined face into that of a lion, and said that my name would henceforth be Areny. Then, off she went.

Years later, she came back and told me that I had gotten it wrong. She spelled my new name out for me. Not Areny she said, “Sarene, S-A-R-E-N-E. Like the Sea.” She spread her great wings over me and told me that She was Sarene Arias, winged and bright, and that I would be well-advised to take her name. She said it would bring blessing, and power, and really, who can argue with that?

I’m a scholar of Judaism and of ancient religion, and among my people, we have a tradition. We say, “Change your name, change your fate.” We don’t say, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” but that seems to apply here too. And, in any event, I’m in need of a new name. What luck to have been given one by an angel, one that sounds quite a bit like the one my mother gave me, just ever so slightly different. Like the sea. And, like equanimity. So, I’m taking it, this name-gift my angel offered me, for a change of power and of fate, for not looking a gift horse in the mouth, for seeking and finding.

I am Sara, daughter of Chanah, daughter of Gittel, daughter of Ruth.

I am Sara, daughter of Sarah, daughter of Eve, Mother of all of Life.

I am Sarene, daughter of Sara, daughter of Sarah, daughter of Eve, midwifed by an angel, LSD notwithstanding.

Tantrika, hands-on healer, sex educator. Weekly newsletter via Sarenity, my personal blog. Contact and services at https://ko-fi.com/sarene

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store