name faith

  

Faith Foo. To say it correctly you have to soak up the softness of your tongue. You hear the sound, now think of its meaning. It means what it is, Faith. It meant dad wanted a daughter. It means a childlike belief given, almost force-fed to children from their elders. It has no eastern origin, but it reflects its Chinese counterpart in this case. 

When Elders call my name Faith, they call my three words in full— I become Hu Xin Zhi the alter ego which is introduced first by default with the wild notes of long-forgotten clans. Scratched in indelible ink with no frame for the woman, they are only of my father's father's father's father's father's father's father, the ancestor Hu.  

Then Xin, which in Chinese signifies trust. Or faith. It could also mean a letter, a man speaking—which I see as meticulously written and sent with no returning address and after months in the 21st century, with no returning response.  

Zhi has no particular meaning, but in relation to Xin it does, its identity exists in tangent with its partner. It means to have faith in the beholder of the name.  

But things change when you add in the relation of my surname, Hu. Hu Xin Zhi would mean "to simply have faith", to carelessly give faith, or to put simply, an imperative: do not simply place your trust in this person. That is how the elders remind themselves of my transgressions—they scold—using my name in full. "胡信之!"

But when I say my name cradled in the same softness, I hold power. I say it with the honed edge of skepticism. I do not simply believe your words, especially when you simply do not believe mine. In my current stage, my name does not profess bad faith any longer. 

i am god. not yet your god, maybe, but an important one. my own, at least.

 and as it is around here for gods on earth, i have a name. if not we will be accepting wrong prayers and you'll find yourself exposed to kink worship, ynow, or some vegetable offering to your fellow, somehow more popular god, a degenerate that lives very close by your allocated mind-space. but yes, a name, and with it, ties in an origin story. i am a god with mortal roots, and my name, reflects that. i respect my roots in that way.  

Faith Foo. To say it correctly you have to soak up the softness of your tongue. You hear the sound, now think of its meaning. It means what it is, Faith. Very apt for my religion and disciples—they can say that they are of the Faith, and everyone would understand. But back then before immortality, it also meant dad wanted a daughter. It means a childlike belief given, almost force-fed to children from their elders. It has no eastern origin, but as a god existing in this area, my name reflects the original tongue of my past—Chinese.

Even as a god, ancestors will still call my name, they call my three words in full— I become Hu Xin Zhi the alter ego which is introduced first by default with the wild notes of long-forgotten clans. Scratched in indelible ink with no frame for the woman, they are only of my mortal father's father's father's father's father's father's father, the ancestor Hu.  

Then Xin, which in Chinese signifies trust. Or faith. It could also mean a letter, a man praying—which I see may respond in 3 working days, after doing my godly duties.

Zhi has no particular meaning, but in relation to Xin it does, its identity exists in tangent with its partner. It means to have faith in the beholder of the name.  

But things change when you add in the relation of my surname, Hu. Hu Xin Zhi would mean "to simply have faith", to carelessly give faith, or to put simply, an imperative: do not simply place your trust in this person. That is how the elders remind themselves of my transgressions—they scold—using my name in full. "胡信之!"

But now, when I say my name as my own devout disciple, it is cradled in awe and worship. To which I hold power. I am now a god, my own, I hold weight in my words—that holds power with the honed edge of skepticism against other gods. I have now, my own truth, my own path, I am the truth and the path, that which does not bend freely to the words of other truths—especially when you simply do not believe mine. because i am a god. and now, i can be your god.