Surnames as First Names: English Surnames — C

Crusoe

More surnames of English, Norse or Anglo-French origin which are ripe for a bit of use as first names and are not currently in the US or UK top 1000.

Today is the turn of the Cs — a particularly rich hunting ground with almost too many to choose from! These are my picks:

• Cadeby — from one of the places of the name. Old Norse personal name Káti < kátr ‘merry’ and ‘cheerful’ + bý ‘farmstead’, ‘village’ and ‘settlement’.
• Calderon — from Anglo-French cauderon ‘cauldron’ — used of a maker of cauldrons.
• Calverley — from Calverley in Yorkshire (where it is pronounced CARV-lee), or Calverleigh in Devon. The first is Old English calfra ‘of the calves’ + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’. The second is Old English calu ‘bare’ + wudu ‘wood’ + lēah.
• Calvert — from Old English calf ‘calf’ + hierde ‘herd’.
• Cant — Old Norman-French cant ‘singing’ and ‘chanting’. Also Canter < Anglo-French caunter ‘singer’.
• Cardon — Old French cardon ‘thistle’. Also Carden.
• Carnaby — from Carnaby, Yorkshire. Old Norse personal name *Kærandi or *Keyrandi ‘spirit of choice’ + bý ‘farmstead’, ‘village’ and ‘settlement’. Carnaby is popularly associated with Carnaby Street in London, famous for its high fashion, especially in the swinging ’60s.
• Carver — from Old French charuier ‘ploughman’ and Middler English carver ‘one who cuts’, ‘sculptor’.
• Catesby — from Catesby, Northamptonshire. Old Norse personal name Kátr or Káti < kátr ‘merry’ and ‘cheerful’ + bý ‘farmstead’, ‘village’ and ‘settlement’. Robert Catesby was one of the conspirators in the Gunpowder Plot of 1605.
• Catherall, Cathrall — from Catterall, Lancashire, a place of uncertain meaning, possibly Old Norse kattar–hali ‘cat’s tail’.
• Cawthra — Old French coudraie ‘hazel-grove’. Also Cawdrey, Cawthran, etc.
• Cayzer — from the Middle English caisere ’emperor’, and ultimately from the Roman Caesar (like Kaiser and Tzar). Probably arose as a nickname, either for someone who behaved imperiously, or who played an emperor in a pageant. Kayser, Keyzor, etc are variants.
• Challen — from one of the places called Chalon in France, deriving from the Gallo-Romanic Cabillonum.
• Challinor — from Middle English chaloun — a type of blanket made in Châlons-sur-Marne. A ‘chaloner’ was a seller of these blankets. Also Challenor and Chaloner.
• Charlwin — from the Old English personal name Ceorlwine ‘freeman-friend’.
• Chanter — Anglo-French chantour ‘enchanter’ and ‘magician’.
• Chantrey, Chantry — Old French chanterie ‘singing’ and ‘chanting’.
• Chasey — from Chaussy in France. It got its name from the Latin via calciata ‘limestone road’, referring to an old Roman road which passes through the town.
• Chastney — from one of the places called Quesnay in France, all from the Medieval Latin casnetum ‘chestnut grove’. Other variants include Chasney, Chasteney, Chesney, Chestney, Cheyne and Cheyney.
• Chaston — Middle English chastein ‘chestnut tree’.
• Chesham — from one of the places of the name, from Old English ceastel ‘castle’ and ‘fort’ + hamm ‘land hemmed in by water/marsh’, ‘river-meadow’.
• Chessell — probably from Chesil Bank, Dorset. Old English cisel ‘shingle’ — i.e. the little, waterworn pebbles on a shore.
• Chetwyn — from Chetwynd, Shropshire, itself from the personal name Ceatta + Old English (ge)wind ‘winding path’. Ceatta is an Old English name or nickname, possibly from ceat ‘a thing’.
• Chorley — from one of the places of the name. Old English ceorl ‘freeman’ + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.
• Clandon — from Clandon, Surry; Old English clæne ‘clean’ + dūn ‘hill’.
• Claver — Old French clavier ‘door-keeper’.
• Claydon — From one of the places called Claydon in England. Old English clǣgig ‘clayey’ + dūn ‘hill’. Also Clayden.
• Clennan — Old English clæne ‘clean’ + hand ‘hand’.
• Clizbe — from Clixby, itself probably from the Old Norse name Klyppr + bý ‘farmstead’, ‘village’ and ‘settlement’. The source of Klyppr is unknown; it may possibly be related to klýpa ‘to pinch’ and ‘to nip’, or klippa ‘to cut’.
• Coe — Middle English co, coo ‘jackdaw’.
• Colban — from the Old Norse name Kolbeinn, itself from kol ‘coal’ and thus ‘black’ or ‘dark’ + beinn ‘hospitable’.
• Colborne — from the Old Norse name Kolbiorn, itself from kol ‘coal’ and thus ‘black’ or ‘dark’ + biǫrn ‘bear’, or the girl’s name Kolbrún, from kol + brún ‘brow’.
• Colbran — from the Old Norse name Kolbrandr, itself from kol ‘coal’ and thus ‘black’ or ‘dark’ + brandr ‘firebrand’, ‘firesword’.
• Conroy — from the Old French conroi ‘detachment of troops’.
• Conte — Old French conte ‘count’.
• Conyers — from Cognières or Cogners in France, both from the French coing ‘quince’, itself from the Latin cotonea ‘comfrey’, ‘wallwort’ and ‘black briony’. The very similar looking Conyer is from Old French coignier ‘to stamp money’ and ‘to mint’.
• Corb — Old French corb ‘raven’. Corbel and Corbet are diminutive forms (as is Corbin — but that is currently 250th in the US and climbing).
• Corby — from various places of the name — the Old Norse personal name Kori + bý ‘farmstead’, ‘village’ and ‘settlement’. Kori is possibly from korpr ‘raven’, or Kári < kárr ‘curl in the hair’.
• Cordon — from Old French cordoan, a name used of Spanish leather made in Cordova; it was used of someone who made shoes with this leather.
• Cordray — Old French, coeur-de-roi ‘king’s heart’ – a medieval nickname. Also Cordrey.
• Corley — from the place name; Old English corn ‘heron’ + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.
• Cressell, Crissell — from Old English cærse ‘cress’ + wella ‘well’.
• Cressner — Old French cressonière ‘cress-bed’, used of someone who lived near a cress-bed.
• Crowley — a variant of Crawley, from one of the places of the name. Old English crāwe ‘crow’ + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.
• Croydon — from one of the places called Croydon; the one in Cambridgeshire is from crāwe ‘crow’ + denu ‘valley’, while Croydon in London is from croh ‘wild saffron’ + denu.
• Crusoe — very familiar from Robinson Crusoe, but barely seen as a first name. A Huguenot name, possibly from the French croix ‘cross’. Presents an interesting variation on Cruz.
• Cullum, Culham — offering an alternative to Callum and Cullen, Cullum derives from Culham, Oxfordshire. Old English personal name *Cula + hamm ‘land hemmed in by water/marsh’, ‘river-meadow’.
• Culver — from Old English culfre ‘dove’, used as a pet-name.
• Currer — Old French courreour ‘messenger’. Currer Bell was the pen-name of Charlotte Bronte
• Curzon — from the Old French courson ‘little short one’ from curt ‘short’, or from Notre-Dame-de Courson in Normandy — which shares the ultimate same source. Other forms include Curson and Cursham.
• Cutler — from Old French coutelier ‘cutler’ — i.e. a maker or seller of knives.
• Cutter — Middle English ‘a cutter’; possibly referring to a barber or tailor.

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Lughnasadh!

Today is the Celtic feast of Lughnasadh, and if you are celebrating, a bright, blessed and fruitful Lughnasadh to you!

Let’s hope the rain holds off!

Although Lughnasadh is specifically Irish, the cross-quarter day August 1 is marked across the British Isles, where it is now mostly known as Lammas, from the Old English hlāfmæsse from hlāf ‘loaf’ and ‘bread’ and mæsse ‘mass’, and it celebrates the first harvest and first fruits of the season.

What the original name of the feast in what is now England and Wales was is unknown, but it was quite possibly cognate with the Irish. For Lugh is the Irish form of Lugus — the name of one of the most important of the Celtic Pagan Gods, whose name is recorded across the Celtic world.

This also survives in the Welsh form Lleu — and it may be cognate with the Norse Loki. Loki and Lugh certainly share a lot in common. They are both tricksters. Moreover, Lugus is often considered the Celtic version of Odin, and it has been suggested that Loki is in fact an aspect of Odin too.

Some depictions of Lugus hint him being a triple God; he is sometimes presented with three faces — and other times with three phalluses. This is also supported by some Irish myths in which Lugh is said to have been one of triplets, and it has been suggested he is the triple God composed of of the deities Esus, Toutatis and Taranis, recorded by Roman historians.

Today, Lugh is often perceived as a sacrificial God of rebirth, representing the cycle of agriculture — a John Barleycorn-like figure who is sown, grows and harvested; some of the grain is prepared as bread, some stored, to begin the cycle all over again.

But what is the source of the name?

Traditionally, Lugus was said to be from the Proto-Indo-European *lewko- ‘to shine’ – the same source as the Latin lux, from which last week’s Pick of the Week Lucius derives.

However, there are linguistical problems with this, and it may be that it actually comes from the opposite Proto-Indo-European *leug- ‘blackness’ (raising the same interesting parallels regarding duality of meaning as I discussed with Blake), or Common Celtic: *lug- ‘oath’.

However, *lewko- ‘to shine’ is still possible and plausible, perhaps developing from a parallel root *lewg- instead of directly from the traditional *lewko-.

How the festival was celebrated in England and Wales in pre-Christian times is lost, along with the accompanying myths. But Irish Lughnasadh is different.

According to Irish myth, Lughnasadh was instituted by Lugh in honor of his foster-mother Taillte, who died after preparing Ireland for its first sowing.

It passed into the Christian calendar, preserving its Pagan name (in the same way Easter does).

Like the other cross-quarter celebrations (i.e. the festivals which fall mid-way between the solar feasts of the solstices and equinoxes) — Lughnasadh is a fire festival, marked with bonfires.

To this day in Ireland, Lughnasadh is a time of celebration and family reunions, when the priests bless the fields.

Brian Friel’s 1990 play Dancing at Lughnasa captures its essence well.

Unlike some of the other festivals, Lughnasadh has yet to be adopted as a given name in its own right, though with the meaning ‘feast of Lugh’ in Irish, it — or the modern Irish Lúnasa — would make an excellent name. As, indeed, does the English Lammas.

And Lugh, Lugus, Lleu and Loki are all very worthy of consideration, especially at this time of year!

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Nook of Names Pick of the Week — Guinevere

There are few names more evocative of medieval romance than Guinevere, the Celtic queen, caught up in probably the most famous love triangle of all time — Guinevere, King Arthur, and Sir Lancelot.

The enduringly popular story of King Arthur and Guinevere has been retold countless times for a thousand years or more, most recently in the TV series Camelot.

What the truth is behind the legends is a question which has occupied historians, archaeologists and folklorists alike for hundreds of years.

Guinevere is the now classic form of the legendary queen’s name, as used by Alfred, Lord Tennyson in the Idylls of the King, but there are many others.

Probably the next most seen is Guenevere,  used in a number of versions, including Rosalind Miles’ Guenevere, Queen of the Summer Country (1999) and the musical Camelot (1960).

In Mallory’s 15th Century Le Mort d’Arthur she is Gwenyvere.

The original Welsh form of her name is Gwenhwyfar.

This is really ancient!

For while Gwen features in a great many Welsh names of all periods, its Common Celtic predecessor  *uindo- ‘white, bright’ is attested in Celtic names in Roman Britain.

Hwyfar, however, is not recorded anywhere, except in Gwenhwyfar’s name.

There has been a lot of speculation over the years as to its meaning; the Victorians conjectured that it must carry some soft, feminine sort of sense, and interpreted it as ‘soft’ and ‘smooth’, linking it to the rare (and obsolete) Welsh word gwyf.

But this doesn’t actually even mean ‘smooth’!

It means ‘that which extends’.

And the sort of torture it must endure to turn it into hwyfar really brings tears to the eyes.

But there is a better explanation, provided by historical linguistics — the Common Celtic *sŒbro- ‘specter’.

In Old Irish, this became síabar — ‘fairy’ and ghost’ — a word which almost certainly features in the name of another tragic figure of mythology, the Irish Fionnabhair. This make it exactly cognate with Guinevere.

This begs the question whether Guinevere and Fionnabhair are linked at a level deeper than just their names, and whether rather than ever being real historical figures, they belong to the pantheon of the Pagan Celtic Gods.

Given the role they both play, a convincing argument could be put forward that they both represent Goddesses of sovereignty, like Rhiannon and Medb (it is probably no coincidence that in the myth, Fionnabhair’s mother is Medb of Connacht).

Even today, in North Wales, the legend persists of an apparation — ‘the Grey Lady’ who haunts the Celtic hill-fort of Moel Arthur, and is now said to protect the grave and treasure of King Arthur.

Alternatively, they may be the bride aspect of the Goddess — the May Queen. There are certainly strong parallels in the tale of Arthur and Guinevere with that of Lleu and Blodeuwedd.

Perhaps they are both.

Guinevere is found as a genuine given name from at least the 14th Century — largely as a result of the popularity of the Arthurian Cycles. In Wales and the Marches, it survived  in forms such as Gaenor, Gaynor, Gwennor and Gwenifer.

In Cornwall, it became Jenifer. George Bernard Shaw introduced it to the rest of the ESW in his play The Doctor’s Dilemma (1905), which features a character called Jennifer Dubedat.

In Scotland, it became Vanora. Vanora’s Grave in Meigle, Scotland is a grass-covered mound in front of which two carved Pictish stones are known to have once stood, though Vanora isn’t found as a given name itself before the 19th Century.

Another variant is the Italian Ginevra — made better known by Ginevra ‘Ginny’ Weasley in Harry Potter.

But Guinevere itself has always been uncommon. It has never featured in the top 1000 names in the US. And even in England and Wales, there were less than 250 girls given the name Guinevere as a first or second name between 1847 and 1915. 57 baby girls were called Guinevere in the USA in 2010, but only 4 in England and Wales.

This is a great shame, and Guinevere is crying out to be re-embraced. It makes a fantastic alternative to its love-child Jennifer, which is now tumbling out of favor after so long as a firm favorite. It shortens nicely to Guin or Guinny (or Gwin, Gwyn, Gwinny, Gwen and Gwenny, etc) — even Ginny or Jenny.

There are the Welsh pet-forms  of Gwen– names too: Gwenno, Gwennan and Gwenog.

You could even use Vere or Vera, Nev or Neve — or Never!

Why not?

And why not Guinevere? A magnificent name for Pagans and non-Pagans alike!

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Sumerian Names — Part 4

Izi - fire

Many of us Pagan, New Age, and Independent Thinker folk believe that the universe is far more inter-connected than is generally accepted. Thus, when we encounter two things that look alike, many of us think that there is something joining them on a spiritual or ‘vibrational’ level.

Even those who would disagree, and call such similarities pure coincidence, still find it interesting to learn that a word or name familiar from one language has a completely different meaning in another — sometimes beautiful, sometimes not so…

And so, today’s collection of Sumerian features words which resemble established names:

Abgal  —  ‘sage’, ‘wise man’, ‘wizard’ < abba ‘elder’ + gal ‘great’

Ada  — ‘father’, ‘shout’, ‘song’

Adda — ‘carcass’, ‘corpse’, ‘skeleton’

Agar — ‘field’, ‘commons’; ‘heavy rain’; ‘lead’; ’embrace’

Al, Alan — ‘image’, ‘statue’, ‘figure’, ‘appearance’

Allan —  oak tree < Akkadian allaanum ‘oak’

Ama —  ‘mother’, ‘wild ox’, ‘cow’

Ambar — ‘marsh’; ‘reeds’, ‘canebrake’

Anna  — ‘tin’, ‘yes’

Ara — ‘praise’, ‘glory’, ‘to shine’, ‘to blaze’; ‘bright’, ‘clear’, ‘polished’; ‘way’, ‘road’; ‘times’

Aria — ‘district’, ‘desert’, ‘waste’

Asa — ‘myrtle’, ‘cage’, ‘fetter’, ‘bear’

Ash — ‘what one needs’

Asha — ‘field’; ‘area’

Ashera — ‘lamentation’

Babbar — ‘bright’, ‘white’, ‘the rising sun’

Barbarra — ‘flames’

Dana — ‘road-length measure’

Dara  — ‘belt’, ‘sash’; ‘dark’, ‘dim’, ‘high’

Daria — ‘driven (animal)’

Didi — ‘young’, ‘small’; ‘to play an instrument’

Ebla — ‘watery type of beer’; ‘light beer’

Eden, Edin — ‘steppe’, ‘plain’, ‘grazing land between the two long rivers’, ‘back’, ‘spine’ (NB — this could well be the source of the biblical Eden)

Emma, Imma — variant of enmen ‘thirst’ < en ‘time’ + mun ‘salt’

Erin, Eren — ‘man’, ‘servant’, ‘soldier’, ‘troops’, ‘army’, ‘gang of workers’, ‘people’, ‘folk’; ‘enemy’, ‘destruction’; ‘cedar’; ‘balance scale’

Gaz — ‘powder’, ‘break’, ‘fracture’, ‘war’

Gianna — ‘at night’

Gil, Gili, Gilim — ‘reed bundle’; ‘dancer’; ‘bride crown’

Gina, Gena, Ginna, Genna — ‘constant’, ‘regular’, ‘small’; ‘the planet Saturn’; ‘consent’

Hala — ‘share’, ‘lot’

Halba — ‘frost’, ‘freezing’

Ida — ‘river’, ‘main canal’, ‘water course’

Inda — ‘flower’; ‘bushel’; ‘pure-bred breeding bull’; ‘ancestors’; ‘fish-roe’; ‘funnel’, ‘hopper of the seed plough’

Izi — ‘waves’; ‘fire’

Izzi — ‘house wall’; ‘fire’; ‘current’, ‘flood’

Kal, Kala — ‘strong’, ‘swift’; ‘to repair’, ‘mend’

Kara — ‘to encircle’, ‘besiege’, ‘accuse’, ‘shine’, ‘be bright’

Kim — ‘willow-tree’

Kushla — ‘leather-cord’

Lal —  ‘honey’, ‘date-syrup’; ‘light’, ‘deficient’, ‘to be high’, ‘to diminish’

Lala — ‘joy’, ‘appeal’, ‘charms’, ‘abundance’, ‘vigor’

Lil — ‘wind’, ‘breath’, ‘spirit’, ‘infection’

Lilla — ‘spirt of a place’

Lillan — ‘stalk with ripe ear of grain’

Lusua — ‘friend’; ‘acquaintance’

Madala — a thick bundle of reeds used to build a raft

Meli — ‘voice’, ‘throat’

Mia — ‘how?’ The similar Mea means ‘where?’

Mina, Mana — ‘partner’, ‘companion’, ‘equal’, ‘two’

Miu — ‘ewe lamb’

Musa — ‘to name’, ‘to give as a name’

Nia — ‘by itself’

Nila — ‘to inspire awe’, ‘to raise oneself’ < ní ‘self’ + íla ‘raise’; ‘to diminish/humiliate oneself’ < ní ‘self’ + lá ‘diminish’

Nissa, Nisi — ‘greens’, ‘vegetables’

Nita — ‘male’, ‘manly’

Nura — ‘not stamped with a seal’

Nusa — ‘not good’

Sal — ‘uterus’, ‘vulva’

Sali — a type of lyre

Sam  — ‘equivalent (barter) purchase’, ‘sale price’, ‘merchandise’

Samana — ‘skin disease’; a grain disease, such as rust

Santana — ‘herbalist’, ‘horticulturist’, ‘date’, ‘orchard’, ‘administrator’ — also Shandana and Shandan.

Shada — ‘voluntarily’

Shala — ‘to engorge’, ‘to stuff’

Shakir, Shakira — ‘butter tub’, ‘churn’, ‘churning’, ‘pitcher’; ‘henbane’

Sharan, Sharin — ‘tick’, ‘bedbug’

Sharra, Shara  — ‘numerous’; ‘to dry up’, ‘to wither’

Sheba — barley rations distributed by the administration of the temple/palace; ‘to be careless/negligent’

Sheli — ‘pine/juniper seeds’

Shem — ‘herb’, ‘aromatic wood’, ‘resin’, ‘spice’, ‘fragrance’, ‘perfume’, ‘fragrant’; ‘tambourine’

Shena — ‘swallow’

Sher — ‘to shine brightly’; ‘shine’, ‘light’, ‘glimmer’; ‘decision’

Shula — ‘entrusted’ <  šu ‘hands’ + lá ‘hold’ + nominative; ‘paralyzed’, ‘idle’ < šu ‘hands’ + lá ‘to bind’, ‘diminish’

Shuluh — ‘ritual cleansing’, ‘purification ritual’

Shuna — ‘pestle’

Shushana — ‘one third (part)’

Sim — ‘kettledrum’

Sisi — ‘horse’

Sumur — ‘fierceness’

Sun — ‘wildcow’, ‘beerwort’; ‘modesty’; ‘quarrel’, ‘discord’

Sura — ‘far-reaching’

Suzi — ‘terror’

Tam — ‘polished’, ‘shiny’, ‘reflective’, ‘pure’, ‘reliable’

Tin — ‘life’, ‘wine’

Tina — ‘strongly’

Tutu — ‘incantations’

Uma, Una — ‘victory’, ‘triumph’

Uri, Urin — ‘eagle’, ‘standard’, ’emblem’, ‘banner’; ‘blood’

Uria — ‘in those (far remote) days’

Ursa — ‘to be/make comfortable/happy’.

Zana — ‘caterpillar’

Zara — ‘to spin’, ‘twine’, ‘to roll up’; ‘pole’, ‘shaft of chariots’, etc

Zena — ‘palm-frond’

Zizi — ‘subtraction’; ‘to rebel’

See also:

Sumerian Names — Part 1

Sumerian Names — Part 2

Sumerian Names — Part 3

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Surnames as First Names: English Surnames — B

Boleyn

More surnames today of English, Anglo-French or Norse origin which have seen little use as yet as given names. Here are the best of the B’s:

• Balmer — from Middle English balme ‘balm’ — originally an aromatic substance made with resins from various trees; balmer referred to someone who prepared balm or sold it.
• Beale — from the Old French bele ‘beautiful’, which is found as a girl’s name in the Middle Ages. Also spelled Beal, Beall, and Beel.
• Beckley — from the personal name Becca + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’. Becca is nothing to do with Rebecca; its origin isn’t known for certain, it may be a short form of an unknown Anglo-Saxon name, or an Old English nickname from becca ‘hook’, or possibly a personal name of Celtic origin, coming ultimately from the same source as the Welsh bach ‘small’. All we know is that it features in a number of English place names, so can’t have been that rare.
• Bellamy — from the Old French bel ami  ‘fair friend’.
• Benley — from Old English bēon ‘bees’ + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.
• Bessemer — Old English besma ‘broom’; a besmere or besemere was a besom-broom maker.
• Boleyn — surprisingly, very rare as a given name, despite Anne Boleyn’s popularity. It is a variant of Bullen, from Boulogne in France, itself from the Gallo-Romanic name Bononia, either from the Celtic *bundo- ‘base’, ‘floor’ and ‘bottom’.
• Bonallie — from French bon ‘good’ + aller ‘to go’. Var: Bonally, Bonella, Bonnalie, Bonnella.
• Bonamy — from the Old French bon ami  ‘good friend’.
• Brabazon — Anglo-French Brabançon ‘person from Brabant’; the name was applied to a bunch of medieval mercenaries, whether originally from Brabant or not.
• Brade — from the Old English brād “broad.”B
• Brierley — from one of the places of the name. Old English brēr ‘briars’ + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.
• Brightwen — from the Old English names Beohrtwine ♂ ‘bright friend’ and Beohrtwynn ♀ ‘bright joy’.
• Brixey — from the Old English name Beohrtsige ‘bright victory’.
• Brooker — from Middle English broker ‘dweller at the brook’.
• Bryden — Old French bridon ‘bridle’; used of someon who made bridles. Also Brydon.
• Butler — from Anglo-French butuiller, the title of a high-ranking servant in charge of a wine-cellar. It became the surname of a very powerful Anglo-Irish aristocratic family. Anne Boleyn’s paternal grandmother was Lady Margaret Butler, daughter of the 7th Earl of Ormonde. Butler did see very modest use in the 19th Century, but hasn’t appeared in the top 1000 since 1903. A prominent bearer was the poet William Butler Yeats.
• Buxton — from Buxton, Derbyshire.  Old English personal name *Bucc + tūn ‘enclosure’, ‘farmstead’, ‘estate’, ‘manor’, ‘village’. Bucc is probably from the Old English buc ‘male deer’ or bucca ‘he-goat’.
• Bythesea — not quite as obvious as it looks; the sea in Bythesea is more likely to mean ‘watercourse’, ‘drain’, ‘pond’ or ‘lake’ rather than ‘sea’. Pronounced ‘BI-thuh-see’.

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Surnames as First Names: English Surnames — A

Appleby

Following on from my post yesterday about using surnames as first names, I thought I’d take a look at some less used surnames which would make fantastic first names, especially for those with Pagan-leanings. None of them feature in the top 1000 names of the US or UK.

This list, by and large, excludes surnames which are identical to existing first names or ordinary vocabulary words — these all deserves articles to themselves.

And as this is such rich name territory, I plan a whole series of articles on the subject, starting with an A-Z of surnames of Old English, Anglo-French or Norse origin. Today’s are names beginning with A.

• Abra, Abrey — uncertain origin, possibly a variant of Aubrey, or from Alburgh ‘old mound’, or Avebury ‘Afa’s Burgh’.
• Acton — from one of the places of the name. Old English āc ‘oak’ + tūn ‘enclosure’, ‘farmstead’, ‘village’, ‘manor’ and ‘estate’. Acton Bell was the pen-name of Anne Bronte.
• Aldren — Old English alor ‘alder’. Used of someone who lived among alders.
• Allman — from the Old French aleman ‘German’.
  
• Amberley, Amberly — from Amberley, Sussex and Amberley, Gloucestershire. From the Old English amore, a type of bird, possibly the bunting or yellow hammer + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.. Amberley in Sussex is known for its medieval castle, now a very exclusive hotel. The American-style spelling Amberly did peek a few twice into the US top 900s between 1985 and 1991.
• Amelot, Amlot — a pet-form of Emmeline, itself from the Old German amal ‘work’.
• Amery, Amory — variant of better-known (and more used) Emery, from the Norman-French name Amalric ‘work-ruler’ (currently rocketing up the charts along with its spin-off Emerson).
• Amiel — a pet-form of Old French ami ‘friend’ or the medieval girl’s name Amia.
• Appleby — from one of the places called Appleby. Old English æppel ‘apple’ + Old Norse bý ‘farmstead’, ‘village’ and ‘settlement’.
• Arlett — from Old English *alrett ‘alder grove’.
• Arley — probably the commonest name on this list; Arley is found dithering as a boy’s name in mostly the 800s and 900s until the 1930s. from one of the places called Arley or Areley, from Old English earn ‘eagle’ + + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.
• Arundel — partly from Arundel in Sussex (from hārhūne ‘horehound’ + dell ‘valley’), home of Arundel Castle, the principal seat of the Dukes of Norfolk, and partly from the Old French arondel ‘little swallow’.
• Ashberry — from one of the places called Ashbury. Old English æsc ‘ash’ + burh ‘fortified place’ and ‘stronghold’ — a common element in Old English girls’ names.
• Ashby — from various places called Ashby, from the Old English æsc or Old Norse askr both meaning ‘ash tree’ + Old Norse bý ‘farmstead’, ‘village’ and ‘settlement’. Popped into the US top 1000 a few times in the 19th Century.
• Ashwin — from the Old English name Æscwine, from æsc ‘ash’ (used in this context to mean ‘spear’) + wine ‘friend’
• Atherley — for ‘(dweller) at the lea’.
• Atholl — the English Atholls derive from the Middle English for ‘(dweller) at the hollow’.
• Athorn — for ‘(dweller) at the thorn (tree)’.
• Audley — from Audley in Staffordshire. From the Old English girl’s name Aldgyth ‘old-battle’ or ‘old-strife’ + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’. It found its way into the top 1000 a handful of times in the late 19th and early 20th Century.
• Avann — ‘(dweller) at the fen’. Old English fenn ‘fen’.
• Aveley, Avely — from Aveley, Essex.  From the Old English girl’s name Ælfgyth ‘elf-battle’ or ‘elf-strife’ + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.
• Averley — uncertain; possibly from Aversley Wood, Huntingdonshire. Perhaps Old English eofor ‘boar’ (or a personal name containing the element) + lēah ‘wood’, ‘woodland clearing’, ‘glade’, ‘pasture’ and ‘meadow’.
• Aylen — Old English æðeling ‘noble’ and ‘prince of the royal blood’ (there is evidence that this was used as a personal name too).
• Ayler — Old French aillier ‘garlic-seller’.
• Ayre, Eyre — Old French eir, heir, ultimately from Latin heres ‘heir’.
• Axon — either Old English personal name Acca + son, or from Askin, a surname deriving from a pet form of the Old Norse name Ásketill ‘cauldron of a God’.
• Axton — variant of AXON, or the well known Ashton ‘ash-enclosure’, etc.

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Nook of Names Pick of the Week — Lucius

Today sees the first Pick of the Week here at the Nook.

Pick of the Week will feature a name which is oozing Pagan charm but which does not feature in the top 100 names in the UK or US (and often not in the top 1000!).

If there’s a particular name you’d like to see featured in Pick of the Week, why not drop me an email?

So — let the fanfare sound! — the first Nook of Names Pick of the Week is Lucius!

Lucius is a particularly rich and potent name, with a long Pagan history.

It began as a Roman first name — or praenomen, to be precise.

By the end of the Roman Republic, there weren’t very many praenomina in use any more, as most Romans were known by the name of their gens (‘family’ or ‘clan’), or their cognomen — a sort of surname or byname which was often (but not always) inherited.

But Lucius was a praenomen — the closest thing to our concept of given names as the Romans got. Moreover, it was one of the three most common praenomina (the other two being Gaius and Marcus).

It was in use in Rome from at least the 7th Century BCE.

One of the earliest recorded bearers was Lucius Tarquinius Priscus, the legendary fifth king of Rome. He was actually an Etruscan by birth — and the legend says he was originally called Lucumo.

This has caused some to speculate that Lucius is actually derived from the Etruscan Lucumo. Lucumo, however, was an Etruscan title — often translated as ‘king’ — given to Etruscan princes and priests.

It therefore seems more likely that Lucumo (if he and Lucius Tarquinius Superbus really ever existed, and really were one and the same) adopted the Latin Lucius as a Roman version — something people have done across the ages.

By far the most likely origin of Lucius is the Latin lux ‘light’. And in all probability, Lucius was in use as a given name before the Romans developed family names.

It almost certainly parented the gens name Lucilius.

Light was strongly associated by the Romans with birth — the time when a baby first saw light, after its long gestation in the dark womb.  The Roman Goddess of childbirth is Lucina — whose name also derives from lux.  It is she who brings a new baby ‘into the light’.

Prehistoric barrows, such as Newgrange, which have a distinctly womb-like appearance and are aligned to allow light to enter at a certain time of the year, perhaps demonstrate a similar association between birth, (rebirth) and the light among the ancient Celts too.

Another important sacred term deriving from lux is lucus ‘sacred grove’ — presumably arising from the fact such groves tend to involve a clearing of some kind, which will naturally be lighter than the surrounding wood.

Technically, Lucius could also mean ‘of/belonging to the sacred grove’.

Although the association of Lucius and light may have had deeper spiritual connotations when it was first used, by the historic Roman period, the association had become more general; Roman commentators said that Lucius was a name given to those born during the hours of daylight.

So many significant Romans bore the name that it would be impossible to list them all, but here are just a few:

• Lucius Junius Brutus — one of the legendary founders of the Roman Republic. Marcus Junius Brutus, assassin of Caesar, claimed descent from him.
• Lucius Cornelius Sulla — Dictator of Rome in 81 BCE
• Lucius Annaeus Seneca — Roman philosopher and playwright — and tutor of the Emperor Nero.
• Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus — birth name of the Emperor Nero.
• Lucius Aurelius Augustus Verus (generally known as Lucius Verus) — husband of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius’ daughter, Lucilla. He and Lucilla had two daughters and a son, Lucius Verus, who died young. Both Lucilla and the younger Lucius Verus featured in Ridley Scott’s Gladiator in 2000.

Another Lucius was the writer Lucius Apuleius. His surviving work is The Golden Ass, a bawdy, frivolous romantic comic novel in which the principal character – also Lucius – experiments with magic, ends up turned into an ass and eventually, restored to human form, is initiated into the cult of Isis.

The dashing Cavalier politican and writer, Lucius Cary, 2nd Viscount Falkland

Inevitably, being such a common name, Lucius crops up in the New Testament, and there are five saints of the name, of varying degrees of historicity.

Despite this, the name wasn’t really seen in the English-speaking world until the 16th Century, when it was plucked straight from the pages of classical mythology.

A significant early bearer was Lucius Cary (1610-43), an English writer and Royalist politician.

In recent years, however, Lucius has become firmly associated with just one figure, the fictional wizard Lucius Malfoy, played in the films by the delicious Jason Isaacs. J. K. may well have chosen it for its similarity to Lucifer, though whether in her mind she had simply the Christian devil in her head, or whether she was also thinking of the name Lucifer’s real meaning and significance is impossible to say without asking her (and I’m not sure she’d answer!).

And what is Lucifer’s real meaning and significance?

In Latin lucifer means simply ‘bearing light’, deriving from lux + fero ‘to bear’ and ‘to bring’.

To the Pagan Romans, Lucifer was the name of the Morning Star — Venus — the son of the Goddess Aurora (Goddess of the dawn), and carried no connotations of evil of any kind.

But because a single passage in the Old Testament (which isn’t even about a so-called fallen angel, but a Babylonian king!) makes a reference to the Morning Star, the Roman mythological/astronomical name Lucifer got pinched, and glued onto the Christian devil.

And it has been sadly stuck there festering ever since.

Other fictional Lucii (Latin plural of Lucius :D) include two Lucii in Shakespeare’s plays — one in Titus Andronicus (Titus’ son), and one in Julius Caesar (a servant).

No fewer than four Lucii appear in the Arthurian cycles. The most signicant is a Roman Emperor, sometimes called Lucius Tiberius or Lucius Hiberius, with whom Arthur goes to war and defeats in battle at Soissons in Gaul.

Other more modern fictional bearers include Lucius Fox in the Batman universe, the vampire Lucius a.k.a. ‘Lucien LaCroix’ in Canadian TV series Forever Knight (1992-96), played by Nigel Bennett, and Roman soldier Lucius Vorenus in Rome (2005-07), played by Kevin McKidd.

The traditional English pronunciation of Lucius is ‘LOO-see-uhs’, but ‘LOOSH-uhs’ is heard too. If a short-form is required, Lu works well.

So if you’re after something a bit different, a good, solid ‘Pagan name’ with plenty of tradition and heritage, Lucius might be just the name for you!

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Sumerian Names — Part 3

Ninna

Some of my very first blog posts here at Nook of Names featured genuine Sumerian names, used by real people at the dawn of Civilization.

Unfortunately, the fact that Sumerian names tended to be made up of a number of elements — sometimes consisting of whole sentences — means that most Sumerian names are simply just too unwieldy to have any serious consideration as real names today.

But there are still many Sumerian words which would make wonderful, unusual — and contemporary — names.

And they are considerably more user-friendly than the originals!

So if the thought of using a word from the world’s first recorded language appeals, take a look at these:

Adea — ‘yearly spring flood’ < a ‘water’ + dé ‘to pour’ + suffix –a

Aga — ‘diadem’, ‘circlet’, ‘crown’ (NB in the UK, is also an expensive sort of cooker!)

Alad — ‘life force’, ‘male protective spirit’

Amagi  — ‘ice’

Amar — ‘calf’ and ‘young animal’. Amar occurs as an element in genuine Sumerian names, such as Amardamu

Anur — ‘horizon’

Anurash —  ‘heaven and earth’; ‘universe’ < an ‘sky’ + uraš ‘earth’, ‘loincloth’ and ‘secret’

Anusan — ‘evening’ < an ‘sky’ + usan ‘evening’

Arala, Arali — the Otherworld < hara ‘to pulverize’ + la ‘youthful freshness’, ‘beauty’

Ashme — ‘sparkle’, ‘glimmer’, ‘sundisk’, ‘star symbol’, ‘rosette’ < aš ‘unique’ + me ‘function, power’

Ashte — ‘need’, ‘necessity’, ‘desirable/beloved object’ < áš ‘to speak’ + te ‘to approach’

Asila, Asilal — ‘joy’, ‘gladness’

Barzil — (meteoric) iron < bar ‘to shine’ + zil ‘to cut’, ‘to peel’

Dari — ‘long-lasting’, ‘enduring’, ‘eternal’

Darishe — ‘forever’ < Dari + šè ‘towards’

Eanna — ‘sanctuary’ < é ‘house’ + an ‘sky’ + suffix -a

Ensi — ‘dream-interpreter’; ‘city ruler’ < en ‘lord’ + si ‘plowland’

Esha — ’emmer wheat flour’

Eshda — ‘ceremony’, ‘type of vessel’, ‘goblet’ < eš ‘shrine’ + da ‘with’, ‘to be near’

Esina, Isina — ‘stalk of barley’

Ezen — ‘festival’, ‘feast’

Gansis — ‘darkness’, ‘the netherworld’, ‘eclipse’

Ganzer  — ‘darkness’; ‘the netherworld’

Garanda — ‘bearing fruit’

Gazi — ‘spice’, specifically, ‘cassia’ < Akkadian kasu ‘let it breath’

Gizila — torch < gi ‘reeds’ + izi ‘fire’ + lá ‘to hold up’

Gula — ‘large’, ‘great’ — another name of the Goddess Bau

Hada — ‘dry’, ‘white’, ‘to shine brightly’ < hé ‘let it become’ + dág ‘brilliant’

Izila — ‘torch’, ‘to purify with fire’ < izi ‘fire’ + lá ‘to hold up’

Kash — ‘beer’; ‘urine’; ‘speed’, ‘runner’, ‘courier’, ‘messenger’, ‘quick’, ‘fluent’

Kashbar — ‘decision’

Keshda — ‘knot’, ‘taboo’, ‘inhibition’; ‘to bind’, ‘wrap’, ‘tie’, ‘harness’; ‘weir’ < ki ‘place’ + šita ‘to bind’

Kiri — ‘nose’, ‘muzzle’, ‘hyena’; ‘orchard’, ‘garden’, ‘palm grove’; ‘groom’ < ki ‘place’ + ru ‘to send forth shoots, buds or blossoms’

Kirizal — prosperity, splendor, splendid, wonderful; joy, prosperity < Kiri + zal ‘to shine’

Kizah — a sacred locality < ki ‘place’ + zàh ‘to hide’

Kuliana — ‘friend of heaven’; ‘dragonfly’ < kuli ‘friend’ + an ‘sky’ + suffix -a

Lagar — a temple servant who pronounces invocations

Lama — ‘awe-inspiring quality’ < la ‘abundance’ + me ‘function’, ‘power’

Lamma, Lama — a  female spirit of good fortune, tutelary genius < lam ‘to make to grow luxuriantly’ + suffix –a

Liliz — ‘drum’

Lu —  ‘man’

Lusilim —  ‘perfect man’ < lu ‘man’ + silim ‘good’, ‘healthy’

Maz, Maraz  — ‘exuberant’, ‘joyful’, ‘a female dancer’

Meshen/Meshenna — ‘battle’, ‘war’ < mè ‘battle’ + šen ‘copper implement’

Miri  — variant of mer ‘storm wind’, ‘violent storm’, ‘north wind’; ‘encircling snake’

Mul — ‘star’, ‘constellation’, ‘planet’, ‘meteor’

Mumu  —  ‘always being reborn’ (such as the moon) < mu ‘to ignite’/’sprout’

Mungazi — ‘powdered spices’ < mun ‘salt’ + gazi ‘cassia’

Muru —  ‘fog’, ‘mist’, ‘haze’ < mi ‘to be dark’ + ru ‘to flow’

Namen — ‘lordship’ < prefix nam + en ‘lord’

Namenzida — ‘true lordship’ < Namen + zid ‘true’ + suffix -a

Namerin — ‘solemn oath’, ‘curse’ < prefix nam + érin ‘enemy’, ‘destruction’

Nemur — ‘glowing coals’, ‘fire’

Nigkalla —  ‘precious’ < níg ‘thing’ + kal ‘to value’, ‘to esteem’ + suffix -a

Ninna — ‘owl’ < nin ‘lady’ + suffix -a — it has been suggested that the round, ghostly human-like face of the owl might be the origin of myths surrounding the female spirit lilitu — the Lilith of later times — interestingly reminiscent to Blodeuwedd.

Ninninna — ‘owl’ < nin ‘lady’ + Ninna

Ninurisa — ‘lady’, ‘sweetheart’ < nin ‘lady’ + ur… sa ‘to be/make happy’

Shagina — ‘true heart’; ‘one’s nature’ < šà ‘true’ + gin ‘to strengthen’, ‘to make firm’

Shahulla  — ‘delight’ < šà ‘heart’ + húl ‘to rejoice’ + suffix -a

Shar — ‘totality’, ‘all’, ‘world’, ‘horizon’, ‘numerous’, ‘inumerable’

Shembi —  ‘kohl’, ‘antimony’

Shen —  ‘verdigris’, ‘clear’, ‘pure’, ‘polished’, ‘shiny’, ‘copper pan’, ‘vessel’, ‘mirror’

Shennur — ‘quince’ or ‘medlar’

Sherda —  ‘punishment’, ‘crime’, ‘blame’

Sherzi —  ‘shine’, ‘light’, ‘glimmer’ < šér ‘to shine brightly’

Shuba —  ‘agate’

Shuilla — ‘prayer’ < šu ‘hand’ íl ‘to raise’ + suffix -a

Shul, Sul —  ‘young man’, ‘warrior’, ‘invader’, ‘strong’, ‘heroic’, ‘proud’, ‘splendid’

Shulzi — ‘worthy young man’ < Shul + zi ‘true’

Sisig —  ‘whirlwind’

Siskur, Sizkur — offering, sacrifice with entreaties, prayers, rites < isiš ‘to weep’ + kur ‘to bring, deliver’

Suagina —  ‘regular/daily offering’ < šu ‘hand’ + gin ‘to strengthen’, ‘to make firm’ + suffix -a

Suen/Suena — ‘the moon’ < su ‘knowledge’ + en ‘time’

Tigi — ‘harp’ < ti life + gi ‘restore’

Tila — ‘life’

Uanna —  ‘light of the heavens’ < u ‘light’ + an ‘sky’ + suffix -a

Uga — ‘raven’

Ulsharra —  ‘jubilation’ ul ‘joy’ + šár ‘to multiply’ + suffix –a

Umma —  ‘crone/witch’  < um ‘old woman’ + ma ‘to bind’

Usan — ‘evening’

Uzalla —  ‘day’, ‘morning’, ‘dawn’ < u ‘day’ + zal ‘to flow, elapse’ + suffix –a

Zabar —  ‘bronze’

Zagin —  ‘lapis lazuli’

Zal —  ‘light’, ‘brightness’; ‘light before dawn’, ‘early morning’, ‘to shine’, ‘to purify’

Zami  —  ‘hymn of praise’; ‘lyre’

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Pagan Name of the Month — Blake

Blake's illustration of the Witch Goddess Hecate, appropriately swathed in black

Yesterday, I wrote a piece examining what exactly a ‘Pagan name‘ is — and concluded that, really, almost every name qualifiies as a Pagan name, and that what you consider to be a Pagan name is largely down to your own personal choices (which is kind of what Paganism is all about!).

Nevertheless, many names do put themselves forward as more ‘Pagan’ than others — by which I mean, are more likely to appeal to Pagans — either by their meaning or associations, or both. So I thought I might institute a regular feature exploring one name currently in the top 100 names in the UK, US, Canada (British Columbia), Australia (New South Wales) or New Zealand, which is particularly rich with Pagan undertones.

My first choice is Blake.

Blake was 87th in the US last year, and it has been hovering between the 77th and 99th spots for the last 21 years. In British Columbia, it was 76th in 2009,  while in 2010, it was 42nd in New South Wales, and 22nd in New Zealand. Only in the UK has it yet to officially reach the top 100, ranking 101st in 2009.

In origin, Blake is an English surname, principally a variant of Black, meaning, weirdly enough ‘black’. Black has become a much maligned color in the West, largely associated negatively with death and darkness.

Although the surname arose with regard to a person’s hair color, the adjective has long been used to mean ‘grim’ at best and ‘evil’ at worst. But its association with darkness carries through to an association with the night, and therefore also of mystery – and witchcraft.

This association dates back to the medieval times, partly because of the assocation of the Witch Goddess Hecate with the night, and partly because witches were believed to gather under the cover of darkness, robed in black, for the purely practical reason of avoiding being seen.

Today, some still wear black robes for this reason, though many witches also like black because of its vibration, and because it is an excellent conductor of energy, particularly potent for vanquishing negativity, and aiding deep meditation.

And on the subject of witches and black, we can’t neglect black cats! Black cats can be a sign of both good luck or bad luck – depending where in the world you happen to be and what it is doing. They are the Witch’s familiars par excellence, and have likewise been associated with Witches since the Middle Ages.

In other world cultures, black’s reputation is often quite different to the West’s. To the Aztecs, who used weapons made from obsidian, black was the color of War, while to the Chinese, black symbolizes the North and Water, and to the Japanese, nobility, knowledge and maturity. To the Maasai tribes of East Africa, black is the color of life, good fortune and plenty.

And lets not forget Goths :D.

But as well as ‘black’, Blake does have another potential meaning. For the Middle English blāke ‘black’ did get confused with blāk(e) from the Old English blāc ‘bright’, ‘shining’, ‘wan’ and ‘pale’ — the exact opposite of black.

Duality, however, is a strong theme in Paganism, with the notion of balance of opposites — between male and female, light and the dark, the Oak and Holly Kings — along with the idea of this duality united in one. Two sides of the same coin…

Blake’s ambiguity in meaning captures this rather well!

Blake has been used as a first name since the 17th Century. Since the late 18th Century, some of its use may have been in honor of the English poet, artist and mystic William Blake (1757-1827). Blake was influential in the resurrection of Druidy in the 18th Century, and Chosen Chief of the organization which later became the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids.

To many Brits outside of Druidry, however (and quite probably a fair number within), Blake is still most strongly associated with the character of Roj Blake, in the BBC’s science-fiction TV drama Blake’s 7 (1978-81). In the US, the association may be with Blake Carrington of Dynasty (1981-89).

Which is a bit of a dampener — but not the end of the world.

Blake still qualifies as a thumping good ‘Pagan name’ in my book!

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What’s in a (Pagan) Name?

What exactly is a Pagan name? A lot of Pagans, when choosing a name for whatever reason, seem to search for “Pagan names”, as though Pagan names can be popped in a box and put on a shelf next to Welsh names, Greek names, Russian names, biblical names, mythological names, nature names etc, etc.

The fact is, many of the names you’d find in one of those boxes, would also belong in at least one of the others.

And Pagan names — and Druid names, Wiccan names, Witch names, Heathen names, etc — can be found in all the boxes!

The fact is, a “Pagan Name Box” would be almost impossible to compile, because almost every name you can think of has Pagan roots. Just take a look at what I wrote about Christina in Sneak Peak Week to see what I mean.

If you’re a Pagan, Witch, Wiccan, Druid, Heathen, Mages, Shaman or Independent Thinker ;), and you’re after after a Pagan name, the most important thing you need to do to in the quest for your Pagan name is to establish in your own mind what ‘Pagan name’  precisely means to you. Is it:

• A name with undertones of magic or mysticism?
• A name of a Pagan Goddess or God, or other hero or heroine from one of the world’s mythologies?
• A name without ‘religious baggage’ — avoiding names such as biblical names and saints names?
• A name with depth of meaning? In which particular language?
• A name taken directly from nature?
• A name which suits the characteristics of a particular star sign, month, season, element or direction?
• A name with strong associations to a particular thing or concept — such as the Moon or Sun, Music, Peace, Joy, etc

And so on, and so forth. Then take your search from there.

Probably the biggest and most important decision you need to take is where you stand on names which have become associated with other religious traditions, and how you feel about them.I know many a Pagan who would rather eat a vat of raw squid than pick any name from the Bible or associated with the Church in any way.

Indeed, when people first start out looking for a ‘Pagan name’, the assumption is often made that these names are automatically excluded.

But there’s actually no real reason why they should be.

If you’re not a Christian or a Jew, you might want to think twice about a name which contains the name Yahweh, but as for the rest, well, it’s all just Hebrew and Christian mythology!

Most of the names of the saints go back to pre-Christian times, when they were used by Ancient Pagans, and a lot of the Hebrew ones have thumping good meanings.

And although the element el which features in many Hebrew names is usually translated ‘God’, in origin, it actually means ‘a God’ — in just the same way as the Greek theos and Latin deus mean ‘a God’, not just ‘God’, and were used of Pagan deities in Pagan times before they were nobbled by Christianity.

So, you see, when you’re looking for a Pagan name, don’t feel restricted! Because all names are Pagan names!

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