First of all, I am not afraid of bugs. I just like them to keep to their business. No fear. Respect. For all creatures, great and small.
Until, looking up from my morning coffee, I see a very large winged being sitting on the wall across the table from me, and I recognize that winged being to be a wasp.
All that no fear, respect for all creatures great and small, goes straight out the window. It could fly at me. I could swing at it. It could become defensive and swoop in, land on my arm, sting me with its nasty stinger! I could swat it. It could sting again and again before it dies!
I become aware that, given that it has yet to become airborne and done little more than crawl along the picture rail a foot from the ceiling, I might want to come up with a plan B in dealing with The Wasp Invasion.
I will name it. I will call it Trixie. Immediately I notice that I am now interested in seeing what is going on with Trixie. Is she lost? She's been crawling for a while. I wonder if she is having trouble finding the door. I open it wide for her. She doesn't seem to notice it. I wave the newspaper to encourage her to fly in the direction of the door. No deal. She is going to need more help. I extend the edge of the newspaper close to her. Trixie doesn't seem to consider a ride on a newspaper the avenue to her escape from the kitchen. I push her with the edge of it, hoping to get her flying in the right direction. Trixie falls to the floor. She can't fly! I gently scoop her up onto the newspaper and set her outside. I wish Trixie well and close the door. Trixie on the outside and me and my coffee inside.
I share this little saga because it has me wondering if giving the thing that has become an issue in our lives a name that makes it seem less threatening is a way to make it approachable. Might allow for a shift in perspective, for new information to come in, new solutions.
I won't mind if you borrow the name of my wasp. I'm pretty sure Trixie will be okay with it too.