Beginning late in my freshman year at Southern Illinois University in Carbondale, I became increasingly aware of a part of my life that I'd never paid much attention to - the Earth.

I had always known, of course, that the Earth existed; I had known that it was a round celestial body, firm beneath my feet, with a balance of atmospheric gases and a distance from our sun that both made its surface favorable to my particular variety of life. However, up until that point I had never greatly considered my relationship with the Earth. To me, it was a static, lifeless substance for me to stand and walk on, an extension and support of the concrete sidewalks that had always been my primary experience of "the ground."

With my experiences in Southern Illinois, however, this began to change. One night during my freshman year, my brother dragged me along to a meeting about vegetarian awareness. He and I were both vegetarians, so even though I was still extremely anxious in social situations at that point in my life, I decided to come along with him and hear what the night's speaker had to say.

Howard Lyman's speech was impressive, but as it turns out that night brought me more than just a discussion about vegetarianism. It introduced me to the Student Environmental Center, a small but dedicated band of aspiring radicals who helped change the course of my entire life.

How, you ask? The first meeting I went to was about vegetarianism, but then there were others. The open-minded atmosphere brought me back there, and over the course of a hiking trip or two and a series of regular weekly meetings, I began to understand and appreciate the world in ways I had never even seen before. Some of this came from discussions and experiences shared with other SEC folks, and some of it came from my own solitary reflection and contemplation, but the overall effect was a fundamental shift in my thoughts on ethics, aesthetics, epistemology, metaphysics, and more. To put it bluntly, I woke up to the fact that the Earth is not just a lifeless dirt floor for us to walk all over. It is an amazing, complex living system that includes the atmosphere, the oceans, the mountains, the valleys, the plains, and all life on this planet living together as a single web of "interbeing."

Needless to say, this was a major trip, man! By the end of my junior year I knew that a change had come over me. It wasn't complete yet, and may never be, but I knew that this fundamental shift in the way I view the world was also a fundamental shift in who I am. It was a shift in consciousness; I was still me, but I had grown up in a way I hadn't even known was possible. So, I decided at some point that I would like a new name to go along with this radical change in who I was.

The very thought of a new name both excited and frightened me. Somehow, I knew it was a given - I was going to choose a new name, and that was final. However, I also knew that it wasn't going to be simple or easy. I'd read in the Earth First! Journal about some people with "forest" names, but at that point what I read in the Journal was almost another reality entirely to me. Here in the "real" world, people had one name given to them at birth that generally stuck with them for their entire lives. I was still suffering from an extreme case of social anxiety, and the prospect of doing anything weird to incur the wrath of those around me was utterly terrifying. What could I do though? In my heart, I knew that I was going to find a new name. The only question remaining was where to find it.

Over the course of several days, I thought the question over. What about River? That sounded like a strong name, but something didn't seem right about it, especially since I didn't associate as strongly with rivers as I did with trees and forests. What about Forest, then? Forest simply seemed too cliche, I suppose, and too reminiscent of Forrest Gump. I didn't want to go with it.

After a while there was another choice on my mind, but I was very reluctant to even consider it: Treesong. It was a word that I came up with on my own, with some vague sense that it applied to the sound of the wind blowing through trees. Since it was an entirely new word to me, it frightened me - choosing a forest name was odd enough, but what would people say about one that wasn't even a real word?

Somewhere in my subconscious I must have known it was the right choice, because it stuck with me. Still, the extreme anxiety over the name change and that name in particular lead me to seek help in making the decision. But who could I turn to? As friendly as some of the SEC folks were, I still didn't feel comfortable talking about such a farfetched subject with anyone. On the computer I could be much bolder, but somehow I don't think it occured to me to ask anyone there. Instead, I turned to the most appropriate but least expected source of inspiration - the Earth itself.

Southern Illinois Univeristy in Carbondale is surrounded by beautiful forest, but I had no means of transportation other than my own two feet, and the only "earthy" place I knew of within walking distance was a small patch of woods on campus called Thompson Woods. So, that night I put on my green cape (a story unto itself) and walked into Thompson Woods in search of a name.

It was a pleasant night, as I recall it. There was a light wind in the trees, and the air was warm enough to be comfortable but cool enough to feel brisk across my skin when the wind blew. Soon enough I came to a large rock I'd often passed by during the daytime and sat on it cross-legged, hoping that no one would come along to interrupt my train of thought.

At first, I was somewhat restless. Meditation certainly wasn't my strong point, and as I sat there on that rock my intellect struggled to find my name as if it were a puzzle waiting to be solved. Questions, then answers, then more questions. It must have only been ten or fifteen minutes, but it seemed like an hour to me because I was anxious for an answer and worried that I might be interrupted by a passer-by even after dark.

Finally, I turned to the place where I would find my answer - the Earth. The name "Treesong" seemed very appropriate to me, but due to my anxiety and self-doubt I was unsure of what name to choose or whether I should even choose a name at all. I closed my eyes and asked those woods, that forest, this Earth to offer me guidance. I asked the Earth to give me a name that would let the world know the change that had taken place within me, that would show the world my love for the life of this Earth and my commitment to healing her. In essence, I asked for a sign.

At that moment, just as my searching culminated in a question, an asking for some sign of what my name and my life's path would be, my ears were greeted by treesong. The wind picked up slightly, pulling the hood back off of my head, and I could hear the sound of the wind playing across the leaves of the trees all around me.

The power of the moment was not lost on me. I was in awe, to the point of almost losing the calm that is often crucial in times of reflection. The forest had spoken! The Earth had spoken!

I, however, was left skeptical both by my anxiety over the name and my culture's general skepticism towards "mysticism." As the wind settled I paused to reflect on the experience, but soon I knew that I had to ask again. Was this my name? This was not a coincidence, but truly my name?

Once again, as soon as I asked the question, I felt the wind pick up across my cheeks and heard the musical sound of many leaves rustling together in the wind. This time was as clear as the other - the wind had calmed after the first time, and it hadn't started up again until the very moment when I asked the question again.

By the third such answer, even my skeptical and anxious mind was certain of what had just happened. I had come to the Earth seeking a new name, and the Earth had given me one.

As I'd expected, the transition to the new name wasn't easy. My family and a few old friends still call me Justin, since that's the name they've always known me by. It's like being called a childhood name by someone who knew you as a child. I'm okay with that, especially coming from my mother. She carried me for nine months and raised me for 18 years - she can certainly call me by the name she gave me! However, almost all of my friends only know me as Treesong now, and it's been my full legal name since April 24, 2002.

Whatever you or I may believe about the song I heard in the wind that day, one thing is clear - the Earth and I have chosen my newfound name together. It's a name that I expect to live by for the rest of my life.