This piece is not just a reflection, it’s a metamorphosis in real time. What you’ve shared reads like the moment a chrysalis breathes, the sound of wings unfurling after seasons of stillness. There is a sacred kind of courage in naming yourself, not to abandon the past, but to bless it and release it with gratitude, so that you might meet the future more fully.
Your transition from Jasmine to Ariel Skye is not simply a renaming; it’s an unfolding. You captured the tenderness of identity as something living, something seasonal, shapeshifting, and deeply relational. The way you honor Jasmine as both inheritance and threshold makes this piece a ritual of reconciliation. Nothing was lost here, only made more true.
I was especially moved by how you held your mother’s hopes with such reverence, even as you stepped beyond them. That kind of inner navigation (between love and becoming, between legacy and selfhood) is rare and profoundly powerful. It speaks not only to identity, but to generational courage: the act of becoming not in spite of what came before, but as a continuation of its deeper purpose.
The name Ariel Skye doesn’t just shimmer on the page, it resonates. It feels like breath after silence, fire held by sky, essence finally made visible. Your words invite others to remember that their becoming, too, is holy. That naming is not performance, but prayer.
Thank you for letting us witness this becoming. It's not only yours, it becomes ours too, each time we dare to listen to the name whispering beneath our ribs.
Reading this felt like finding my own reflection in the water, still, quiet, but unmistakably there.
I have walked the path you describe. I have changed my name. The Bathrobe Guy is not a persona, it is who I am now. The name rose from years of seeking, from the quiet construction of a life built on truth rather than expectation. It wasn’t born from a single moment, but from a thousand small ones; from the long walk through the wilds of discovery, theory, poetry, and grief.
Like you, I didn’t discard the past. I honored it, and then I stepped beyond it.
Thank you for naming something so few know how to say. You reminded me today that naming ourselves is not an act of becoming someone else; it is the grace of finally becoming who we always were.
My real name is Tim and the name I still use in daily real life. But the name Eric Ravenwolf came to me during a mental health and spiritual breakthrough and feels more like who I have become vs the person I once was
Thank you for sharing that, Eric. I love how your name surfaced during such a powerful moment of growth. There’s something so beautiful about choosing a name that feels true to who you’ve become — almost like it was always meant to find you.
It really means a lot that it resonated. No rush at all – sometimes the right words need a little time to land. I’ve just read your post and left you a little note there! It feels so special to connect over something as personal as naming ourselves. I’m curious to hear more of what you have to share. Grateful our paths crossed here. 🌿
This is so lovely, Ariel Skye! Beautifully shared. I had many of the same experiences, gently becoming Quinn about 13 years ago. Some strongly resisted, but that says more about them. Now as a 30-year marriage is gently ending, I’m returning to my maiden surname (which I kept when I legally became Quinn Columba, though I still used my married name.)
Thank you for sharing this, Quinn. I can feel so much tenderness and strength in your words. It’s not always easy to choose what feels true, especially when it asks us to let go of parts of our old life. There’s so much quiet power in the way you’re honoring your becoming. I’m really grateful you shared a piece of your story here. Sending love for this next chapter you’re stepping into. 🤍
Thank you for sharing this Ariel. It's such a brave move to rename yourself to a name that fits what you know yourself to be intrinsically. Beautifully written 😍
Thank you so much, Lauren. That means more than I can say. Choosing this name felt like stepping into something more true, but also a little scary. I’m grateful for the space to evolve, and your words make it feel all the more worthwhile. Thanks for seeing and holding this with me. 💛
I believe names are so much more than just a way for a person to be identified. They carry meaning, they carry our hopes and dreams, and they embody who we are. Like a beloved sweater that fits. And sometimes that sweater no longer is the right one. I love your name and I hope it brings all that it embodies for you! 💙
Sometimes names carry more weight than we’re willing to carry. That was a courageous move to step into a new one and thank you for giving others the inspiration to step into that place themselves.
Thank you so much, Robyn — your words mean a lot to me. 🌿 It was a tender, complex decision, and I’m still growing into it. But knowing it resonated with you… that makes the sharing feel worth it. I think so many of us are carrying names, stories, identities that once protected or defined us — but eventually ask to be rewritten. I’m really grateful to be in this space with others who get that. 💛
Your voice is needed and appreciated. I know my stepdaughter was exploring changing her name at one point, so this is a topic that many are embarking on right now.
This piece is not just a reflection, it’s a metamorphosis in real time. What you’ve shared reads like the moment a chrysalis breathes, the sound of wings unfurling after seasons of stillness. There is a sacred kind of courage in naming yourself, not to abandon the past, but to bless it and release it with gratitude, so that you might meet the future more fully.
Your transition from Jasmine to Ariel Skye is not simply a renaming; it’s an unfolding. You captured the tenderness of identity as something living, something seasonal, shapeshifting, and deeply relational. The way you honor Jasmine as both inheritance and threshold makes this piece a ritual of reconciliation. Nothing was lost here, only made more true.
I was especially moved by how you held your mother’s hopes with such reverence, even as you stepped beyond them. That kind of inner navigation (between love and becoming, between legacy and selfhood) is rare and profoundly powerful. It speaks not only to identity, but to generational courage: the act of becoming not in spite of what came before, but as a continuation of its deeper purpose.
The name Ariel Skye doesn’t just shimmer on the page, it resonates. It feels like breath after silence, fire held by sky, essence finally made visible. Your words invite others to remember that their becoming, too, is holy. That naming is not performance, but prayer.
Thank you for letting us witness this becoming. It's not only yours, it becomes ours too, each time we dare to listen to the name whispering beneath our ribs.
Ariel,
Reading this felt like finding my own reflection in the water, still, quiet, but unmistakably there.
I have walked the path you describe. I have changed my name. The Bathrobe Guy is not a persona, it is who I am now. The name rose from years of seeking, from the quiet construction of a life built on truth rather than expectation. It wasn’t born from a single moment, but from a thousand small ones; from the long walk through the wilds of discovery, theory, poetry, and grief.
Like you, I didn’t discard the past. I honored it, and then I stepped beyond it.
Thank you for naming something so few know how to say. You reminded me today that naming ourselves is not an act of becoming someone else; it is the grace of finally becoming who we always were.
Stay entangled, my friend.
—The Bathrobe Guy
Ahh, this really stayed with me.
Thank you for sharing your story so openly – it felt like a quiet mirror.
Naming ourselves like that… it’s not a single act, is it? It’s slow, layered, tender.
I’m really grateful our paths met here. It means more than I can put into words.
✧ for the in-between spaces we’re both learning to call home.
Wow I really felt this
Thank you, Eric. It means more than you know. Always feels a little magical when something I write finds its way into someone else’s heart. ✨
My real name is Tim and the name I still use in daily real life. But the name Eric Ravenwolf came to me during a mental health and spiritual breakthrough and feels more like who I have become vs the person I once was
Thank you for sharing that, Eric. I love how your name surfaced during such a powerful moment of growth. There’s something so beautiful about choosing a name that feels true to who you’ve become — almost like it was always meant to find you.
Wow Ariel, I have so much I want to share, but I feel a little speechless after reading your post—goosebumps all over my body.
I’ll come back and write to you when I find the right moment.
In the meantime, I invite you to read my pinned post in my space, I talk also about my “other” name, Nollage.
Thank you so much, Nollage 🫶
It really means a lot that it resonated. No rush at all – sometimes the right words need a little time to land. I’ve just read your post and left you a little note there! It feels so special to connect over something as personal as naming ourselves. I’m curious to hear more of what you have to share. Grateful our paths crossed here. 🌿
It really feels it takes time - sometimes - for the words to arrive gently and with clarity.
Thank you for holding the energy where words are not found yet.
This is so lovely, Ariel Skye! Beautifully shared. I had many of the same experiences, gently becoming Quinn about 13 years ago. Some strongly resisted, but that says more about them. Now as a 30-year marriage is gently ending, I’m returning to my maiden surname (which I kept when I legally became Quinn Columba, though I still used my married name.)
Thank you for sharing this, Quinn. I can feel so much tenderness and strength in your words. It’s not always easy to choose what feels true, especially when it asks us to let go of parts of our old life. There’s so much quiet power in the way you’re honoring your becoming. I’m really grateful you shared a piece of your story here. Sending love for this next chapter you’re stepping into. 🤍
Thank you for sharing this Ariel. It's such a brave move to rename yourself to a name that fits what you know yourself to be intrinsically. Beautifully written 😍
Thank you so much, Lauren. That means more than I can say. Choosing this name felt like stepping into something more true, but also a little scary. I’m grateful for the space to evolve, and your words make it feel all the more worthwhile. Thanks for seeing and holding this with me. 💛
I believe names are so much more than just a way for a person to be identified. They carry meaning, they carry our hopes and dreams, and they embody who we are. Like a beloved sweater that fits. And sometimes that sweater no longer is the right one. I love your name and I hope it brings all that it embodies for you! 💙
That line about the beloved sweater—that really stayed with me.
It was like that. Not dramatic, just… a quiet knowing.
A name I could finally rest in.
Thank you for meeting me in that space. 🫶
Sometimes names carry more weight than we’re willing to carry. That was a courageous move to step into a new one and thank you for giving others the inspiration to step into that place themselves.
Thank you so much, Robyn — your words mean a lot to me. 🌿 It was a tender, complex decision, and I’m still growing into it. But knowing it resonated with you… that makes the sharing feel worth it. I think so many of us are carrying names, stories, identities that once protected or defined us — but eventually ask to be rewritten. I’m really grateful to be in this space with others who get that. 💛
Your voice is needed and appreciated. I know my stepdaughter was exploring changing her name at one point, so this is a topic that many are embarking on right now.