Reflections from the Retreat July 2026

What’s in a name? Does it matter how we name people or how we describe ourselves? This famous quote ‘what’s in a name?’ comes from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, when Juliet wishes that her lover didn’t have his family name. She suggests that the label shouldn’t matter, saying ‘That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.’ Yet names do shape how we see people.

Since moving to Grenada, I have been exploring its history and of course this includes the horrors of slavery. In some texts people are called ‘slaves’ and in others they are referred to as ‘enslaved people.’ A subtle difference but with a significant impact. The term ‘slaves’ reduces people to being seen as ‘other’ and defines them as inhuman possessions. The alternative description of them being ‘enslaved people’ reminds us that capture was imposed on them and yet they were people, even though they were treated as animals and possessions.

The word ‘Caribbean’ means ‘of the Caribs.’ This term was given to the indigenous people who the Spanish met here, when they came to these islands. The name means ‘brave, fierce people.’ They were actually a largely peace-loving people, but I guess when someone arrives trying to take your land, then you become ‘brave and fierce!’ Just to say that Christopher Columbus didn’t ‘discover’ the Caribbean – it was already known, just not by the West. So Carib was a name imposed on them by outsiders instead of the Spanish finding out what the indigenous people called themselves.

If Christopher Columbus had asked, he would have learnt that the first people in Grenada were called the Taino. They came from Puerto Rico, in the North of the Caribbean, and settled on this island and there are still Taino people in Puerto Rica to this day. Interestingly when we did our DNA tests with Ancestry, my husband discovered that he had a small amount of indigenous Taino heritage. This fits with his memories of his grandmother having Amerindian features with long black hair and smoking a clay pipe!

The next people to arrive after the Taino, were the Kalinago from South America. Many historical accounts suggest that they fought the Taino for land, stealing livestock and canoes. This is partly true but other historical records, such as census records, suggest that they also intermarried and lived peacefully together.

I recently went to a local history meeting about the Kalinago which was focusing on one of the main tourist sites in this area, ‘Carib’s leap.’ This story of Caribs leap or 'Leapers Hill' comes from the time when Grenada was a French colony in the 1660’s. The story goes that the French drove the whole population of ‘Caribs’ from the south of the island all the way to the North and they jumped to their death, rather than being captured. This event led to the local town being called 'Sautuers,' meaning 'jumpers' in French. The monument, in the photo below, stands at the supposed site, near the Catholic church. However, this is not the accurate site because the original Catholic churches were all changed to Anglican churches by the British. So, in fact, the accurate site is the Anglican church, further up the coast. The historians are now piecing together evidence to say that this was a small group of Kalinago men who were celebrating a festival and so they had probably been drinking. They would have tried to fight the French before being chased off the edge and falling to their death. The Kalinago also killed a lot of French, but the French could keep bringing in fresh men from the homeland and so in time the Kalinago were overpowered. However, they were not wiped out totally as the myth of Carib’s Leap suggests.

When the British took Grenada from the French, they created reservations of Kalinago people, one of which was close to where I live in La Poterie. I have recently met one of the descendants of these Kalinago people, Dolton. He is a wealth of historical knowledge about his ancestors and has a pride in knowing his indigenous roots. He recognises that it is important for his neighbours to know their historical past so they can also be proud of their heritage and who they are.

Dolton has taken part in various archaeological excavations in his local area, as shown in the photos and they have found various items, particularly sixteenth century Cayo pottery. This might explain why this area is named the pottery, in French. If you are interested in knowing more, this is a short video about the work. His vision is to create a replica Kalinago village to help people to understand their history better. But for now, we are talking about the possibility of creating a replica Kalinago meeting house in the garden at the retreat house. This would be a reflective place to sit in the garden but also a reminder of the people whose land this used to be and a way to ‘honour the ancestors.’

How history is told, shapes how we hear it. The history of the Caribbean has mainly been told by the European invaders who saw the indigenous people as savage cannibals rather than desperate people trying to protect their land and families. The story changes according to when we begin it and who is telling it. The Carib leap story is found in many Caribbean islands and reflects the European story of the indigenous people being cowards that wouldn’t fight. Stories of cannibalism are also unfounded and were used to portray them as savages that needed to be destroyed.

So, the stories we tell of others and about ourselves shape the views we hold. Today we hear news stories and social media posts through certain lenses, according to the source. It is hard to tell the facts without a personal bias, such as the ones I hold as I write this blog.

When someone asks you, ‘who are you’, ‘what do you do’ or ‘where are you from’, how do you respond? What are the stories we hold about ourselves? When people ask me where I am from, I often find that hard to answer- do you mean the place I was born, the place I grew up, the place I called home for the longest time or where I call home now? They are all different places. The answer sometimes depends on who is asking and our context. Also, the question, what do I do, can be answered in various ways and there are different stories or descriptions depending on the answer.

Even asking someone’s name in Grenada can lead to a few options. Most people here have their official name and then their nickname or ‘home name’. So, names like Slim, Fatman, Shorty and Happy tend to be used more commonly than first names. There are often associated stories in how people acquired their house names as well as more obvious descriptive names. For example, when I first met someone called Fatter, I asked if he minded having that name. He told me that he chose to name the obvious about himself and own it rather than let others tease him about it. So, he gave himself that nickname. I am grateful for my name, Hilary, meaning cheerful and as a natural optimist, I appreciate that meaning. I wonder what your name means and what nickname you would choose for yourself?

Another question of identity which I have been pondering over, during the last few years, is do I call myself Christian? It’s not that my core beliefs have changed but how I understand those beliefs and express them is an ongoing spiritual journey. When I look at some people who call themselves Christian and yet hold views that I would strongly oppose, it makes it harder for me to own that label. If someone asks me if I am a Christian then I would first ask, what do you mean by that? It depends what box you want to put me in. I’m less keen to be put in the same box as some people that call themselves Christian these days. More recently I have found myself responding that I am a ‘Celtic Contemplative in the Christian tradition’ and that feels a more accurate label for me, at the moment.

I am not alone in this. There is a growing wave of people who have called themselves Christian and who are now deconstructing their faith and reviewing what they actually believe. This can be a healthy process of questioning our faith. The covid pandemic helped people to stop and pause when they couldn’t attend church, to question what they believed and what church meant to them. More people are being challenged to question what the Bible actually says and what Jesus actually meant on beliefs that people have been told emphatically are biblical. I am part of a network of therapists that support the Nomad podcasts which explore this issue of faith shifting and deconstruction. It is a journey that I have been on for over twenty years or so and I hope I always stay curious and question. Again, it goes back to stories that are told by those with the power, and the biases they hold. The Bible has been used to support slavery, to say women can’t speak in church and that sexuality only comes in certain forms.

We can live by stories and the names we tell ourselves – we can call ourselves a victim rather than a survivor, we can say we must do it alone because no one else will help us or that the world is evil and unsafe because that is the story we focus on. Yet what is our true name, our authentic identity? How we name ourselves, shapes our story.

In the Bible there are numerous examples of when people’s names were changed to reflect their potential or future. Abram, meaning ‘exalted father’, became known as Abraham, which means ‘father of multitudes.’ Simon became known as Peter, meaning the rock as a sign of his dependability. So, what name do you think God would want to give you, to reflect who you truly are and your potential? How would that change your story?

Our stories are still being written, and we can be the authors of those stories, or perhaps co-authors with the Divine. We have a voice in how the story might take shape and choices as to how we write the ending. So, let’s be open to our true name and the possibilities of where our story may take us.

I love how threads come together to shape the stories of our lives, and in a similar way threads come together to write a blog. After I had written this blog on stories, someone shared a poem on an online retreat and it fitted so well. So I'll leave you with these words, written by Carrie Newcomer.

Writing a Better Story

I'm writing a new ending

With a better story line

Turn the page and leave the blanks

With a plot that's less defined

And though I won't get back

A day of stolen time

I could go to bed at night

With a better story line

Leave what can't be changed in the past

Let the old house burn down

And the wind scatter the ash

Forgive myself for all the broken glass

For what I didn't know how to say or ask 

I'm writing a new ending ….

Here’s the scene when I lost my map

When the breadcrumbs blew away

And there was no way back

Just the compass of my heart to find the path

Seeing only in the dark, flash to lightning flash

I'm writing a new ending …

There are stories shaped like stones

The ones our hearts have always known

The ones we finally call our own

Down where the spirit meets the bone

I'm ending where another story starts

At the edges I can grow, even when they’re razor sharp.

I'm grateful for the words that I bookmarked,

Before I really knew, I'd need them for this part

I'm writing a new ending …