And there was Güzar...

When I chose this name or even later, I never thought that it would bring a question along with it. When I deepened the conversation a bit and shared my pseudonym, they were curious about the meaning of this rarely encountered word. Although I tried to give an answer many times, the answers I gave were never the same. Only the answers accumulated. Eventually, Güzar turned into something much more than just my pseudonym; it transformed into something far more significant than its literal meaning. Therefore, I no longer view this name as merely a pseudonym but sometimes as an emotion, a sudden feeling, or sometimes a valuable question.

I researched the origin of the word Güzar, or initially "işgüzar," which means "someone who gets involved unnecessarily, usually to show off, skilled, and dexterous (someone)." I wanted to find my word because I couldn't identify myself solely with a subject or a specific artist. Back then, I really admired the name "Fuzuli" from classical Ottoman literature, and its meaning seemed quite clever to me. During that time, I discovered the word "güzar," which means "transition" in Eastern languages that I was greatly influenced by.

However, 'transition' alone didn't seem so meaningful to me. That's why I added Gündüz (Day) in front of my name to remind me of light and enlightenment. I thought I would live with the name Gündüz Güzar for a long time. Over time, I started searching for its meaning with the friends I shared my name with. I wanted to give them a stylish answer. Even today, I haven't found that answer…

This transition, güzar, began to gain a more philosophical meaning as I encountered contradictions in the dualities of life. I used to say, “It signifies the transition between day and night, light and darkness, good and evil, even death and life. It is sunrise as well as sunset. It is birth and the moment you take your last breath, maybe it is gray, indecisive. But it certainly contains two opposite things within itself.

This phase coincided with a period in my life when I faced many questions for the first time. Without answering one question, another would suddenly appear. The questions sometimes emerged from each other, connecting and completely nullifying the other. Of course, I didn't know what critical thinking or logic was. I began to think of this name as a path. An unending path. This path was often dark, and the name Gündüz (Day) always reminded me of light and rebirth. Throughout the ‘light and dark’ issue I pondered for pages, I signed every piece with the same name.
My writings gained value and meaning along with my name. To sustain life, I needed solid understandings, insights, beliefs, grounded perspectives, and questions worth answering.
When Ursula K. LeGuin said, “Everything has a name” in Earthsea, I started to think that this was my true name. And knowing the true name meant not seeing it as merely a word, but having a deep understanding of its existence. With this understanding, I stopped struggling with many of my questions and tried to focus on understanding it and what the real question and answer were. This question - and at the same time, the answer was, “Who am I?”

With every understanding I had about the world and unique matters, I began to express the name “Güzar” better. Because, in fact, with every question, I was learning about it too. Now I am sure that I and every curious person on this earth will continue to ask these questions. I will cling to understanding the world I live in and feeling my existence within that understanding. Every second I search for and feel that meaning again, maybe even a millisecond, is what it means to say “Güzar.” That is, transition, always asking and being curious, the moment of living comprehension. A turning point and the understandings that will make me enjoy even the world's rotation at that turn. Being aware that when that moment ends, I will set out again.