ROK SIVANTE was born in January, 2006, in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.
Prior to that, the natural person writing this story - 23 years old at the time - had gone by the legal name of GRAHAM JEREMY EWANCHUK. (Doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it?)
Why did I change my name?
Good question. And kind of a cool answer...
I gotta backtrack a bit further, so bear with me.
While I'm not sure where exactly to best start this story, I'll begin shortly after I graduated high school...
I progressed through my teens with some exceptional musical talent and an abundant dose of ambition. I'd looked to to cats like Russell Simmons, Sean Combs (a.k.a. Puff Daddy), Pharrell Williams, and musical icons who made themselves into legends changing the game of music and forever leaving their mark on the music industry and a realm of entrepreneurship extending beyond music alone.
(the good ol' youthful rock & roll days - yours truly, the shirtless one)
I wanted to do it all. Own a club. Record label. Publishing enterprise. Fashion label. Real estate.
After a couple seasons living in Banff, a mountain town in the Canadian rockies, to appease my snowboarding addiction, I migrated to Vancouver to attend the commerce program at UBC - thinking I'd gain some good knowledge to help build & manage my own businesses.
University was a fun experience at first, meeting tons of new people. However, the thrill of making new social connections soon wore off - my strong introvert psychology kicked in strong, and discontent with the shallowness of the "friendships" I was forming, my focus turned back to business ambitions. During the first year, I was allured with some "no money down real estate" programs - spending a couple months obsessively studying books that promised the route to becoming a real estate tycoon, planning my empire in the Vancouver market. However, I hit a major obstacle, discovering that while those no-money-down techniques may have worked well in some parts of the US, they weren't applicable in Vancouver's market.
Needing an outlet for my creative energies and overbearing ambition, my focus shifted back into music - continuing my studies of what it'd take to start a record label and strategizing a plan to take on a couple good hip hop artists from Edmonton, my hometown. Well, that didn't quite fly either. Soon enough, my instinct slowed me down - a deep depression kicking in with the discouragement both of my entrepreneurial dreams thwarted.
Feeling out of place in the formal educational institution, surrounded by people in residence whom I didn't connect with, I sunk into what could only be described as a mental-emotional-physical breakdown. It was not a fun time.
However, soon enough, I found a new direction for my ambitions: taking on the status, moving into a legendary party house - claiming the master bedroom as a king's quarters, from which my ego felt reasonably superior in a pimped, glamorous comfort zone. The house may not have been my own, but in my mind at the time, I was the king shit - carrying on strategizing my rise to success, while honing my music production skills and paving roads into the local scene...
There was one problem, though.
I hadn't fully recovered from the breakdown - still pushing over-ambitiously - and one day while walking home across a soccer field carry groceries, it came to my attention that there was a huge lump next to my dick.
Immediately equating "lump = cancer," I kinda freaked out. Upon rushing to the doctor, I discovered the lump was merely a hernia - which kinda looked like a third nut - and was apparently easily fixable with surgery.
I went in for the surgery. Yet upon waking up, I sensed something wasn't right. There was an incredible amount of pain and it was clear the operation didn't go as smoothly as the doc said it would. Recovery wasn't fun, and for the next year, there was a physical dis-ease, until the hernia finally fully reappeared again a year later.
This time around, there was a waiting list for surgery. And while waiting, I began looking at alternative medicine and what it'd might offer - including acupuncture...
I tried a couple acupunturists, with whom I didn't click. The first Chinese doctor didn't speak great English and couldn't explain much about what he was doing, so I moved on. Can't remember the second. And then came the third - an elder white guy who had been a traveling musician for 20 years before redirecting his life to Chinese medicine after he had been in a car accident and found it was the only thing that helped him...
Harreson was a pretty cool dude, and we soon forged a friendship. Besides the musical connection, we shared a common understanding - and he become a mentor of sorts.
He was able to help me understand that it was stress at the root of my hernia - to be precise, heat in the blood/liver, that threw off the spleen's balance, which weakened the stomach muscles that naturally hold the intenstine in place from popping through a hole in the abdomen wall - the hole through which the male baby's nuts drop through while still in the womb. Yep - that "third nut" was my intenstine popping down, as a consequence of an overall mental-emotional-physical imbalance.
The acupuncture kinda worked, though eventually I flew to Ontario to get surgery at a specialized hernia clinic to get the job done right. However, Harreson & I kept in touch - and he became a guide, introducing me to eastern philosophy & medicine, Eckhart Tolle & "The Power Of Now," the works of Abraham Hicks, and much more enlightening wisdom...
One evening, Harreson & I were having dinner and wine at Earls on Robson Street, when in between admiring the sexy waitresses, he asked if he could do a numerology reading on me. Open to whatever he had to share, I obliged - and was blown away at what came out of his mouth...
His analysis of my name articulated aspects of my experience that I felt had haunted me all my life, that I'd never been able to put into words. It was like the guy had a magical tool for seeing into the depth of my soul, and straight out called out things I'd been dealing with all my life that I felt stunted by but could never put a finger on. It was part shocking, part enticing, and sparked a curiosity to learn more about this special branch of numerological knowledge he'd spent years studying.
I ordered a "name analysis report" from the "Kabalarian Society" to learn more, as continued to be have my mind blown by the accuracy this esoteric practice described the inner workings of my psyche.
Now, in addition to the Kabalarian school giving great insight into the impact of the mathematics behind a name on mind, they seemed to believe that a name could be either balanced - creating a harmonious mind, generating life's experiences with ease and grace - or unbalanced, which tends to create discord in a person's life. And, they suggested that in order to live life optimally, it's recommended to choose a name balanced - both within itself, and against an individual's birthdate.
I confess, there was an aspect of it all that almost seemed a bit cult-ish - and I wasn't ready to just change my name right away because some dudes say it's a smart idea. Nonetheless, I couldn't deny there was something to what they were teaching - and persisted to learn more about numerology, simply because it was really fucking interesting.
As I dove deeper into the philosophy, I opened my mind to the possibility of changing my name, just entertaining the "what if..."
And actually, it wasn't the first I'd ever thought about doing so. I recalled being a kid, and vividly imagining going to the courtroom and changing my name. Perhaps I'd foreseen something as a youngster. Or, I just really didn't like the name "Graham," which always had this irritating effect on my consciousness, sort of like nails on a chalkboard.
Allowing myself to play with the idea, I set up some conditions which would have to be met, if I actually were to change my name:
- It would have to sound really cool. Something suave, sorta Italian-ish - like James Bond bad-ass style.
2.It would have to have a powerful, deeper meaning.
3.It'd have to work 100% as an artist name.
I wasn't about to go searching for names, nor dreaming any up. But those were the conditions to be met, if it were to happen in any case...
Well, I guess the curiosity got the best of me. Soon, I had ordered a "Balanced Name Recomendation" report - a $200 list of potential balanced names also balanced to my individual birth date.
Prior to the order, I'd been toying with some ideas, and the name "Visante" popped into my head. It fit the cool factor, though didn't have any meaning whatsoever. However, upon receiving the list, the numerical formula checked out. Well okay, then.
Now, none of the names on the list really appealed. I wasn't able to envision myself taking on any of them as an identity. Though, "Rok" stood out among them. "Rok Visante." Sounded kinda cool. Could be used as an artist name. But no real meaning.
I was still living at Vancouver at the time, though had come back to Edmonton for Christmas - and reconnected with a good high school friend, Joel...
Actually, I can't remember hanging out all that much with Joel during high school. Though that memory loss could surely be attributed to the copious amounts of weed we were smoking at the time. There came a turning point with Joel after high school, though between my time in Banff and moving to Vancouver...
I was on a road trip to Vancouver during the summer, visiting my other friend name Joel (pointing at me in a couple pictures above), who I'd grew up skateboarding & smoking weed with in junior high and lived with for 6 months in Banff. We had stopped a tourist viewpoint in Stanley Park overlooking the Lion's Gate Bridge - getting out of the car for only a minute to take a picture, when someone yanked my backpack from my car (a cool '91 Civic with pimped rims and stickers of sexy bitches on the back) - removing from my possession, my cash, cell phone, weed, and a couple books I'd planned to read on the trip.
Surprisingly, I accepted the loss gracefully - very peaceful with the situation, despite a tendency to get easily angered. And somehow, there was a Divine order in the lineup of events - as a trip to the bookstore to replace my reading material delivered me to just what I needed. While I heard about the book before, I stood infront of Napoleon Hill's classic, "Think & Grow Rich" - and as though there was some magnetic force pulling me to it, purchased the book and carried on to meet the other Joel for an adventure cherry picking in interior BC.
Turned out, we weren't cut out for the job.
While it was a novelty hanging out in the trees picking & eating cherries all day, we only lasted 3 days - ending up camping on the beach in the Okanagan Valley - drinking wine, diving into "Think & Grow Rich" to have my mind opened up even wider yet, and verbalizing visions of a music industry taking over. I'd had a year banging out beats on the classic Akai MPC2000XL, though Joel wasn't making any music yet. But somehow, in the haze of the weed, wine, and sun - we transcended our humble little moment to elaborate plans for rising in the music game alongside our heroes like Timbaland, The Neptunes, and Diddy. In hindsight, we might have just been some young punks dreaming big - yet there was a striking seriousness to our conversations. Dreams or not, that trip was a monumental chapter - intentions set that provided a direction for future endeavors to come.
Flash forward to Christmas, two years later...
In the time I'd been away on the west coast, Joel had gotten into production himself. We reunited - both making strides towards our shared musical dreams. Smoking weed in his basement, working on some beats - he was playing a loop as my consciousness expanded into a vision, and it came...
Not "Rok Visante..."
Rok SIVANTE.
Immersed in a space, riding the sound waves, in the high from the herbs - I got a glimpse of what could be to come.
The name revealed itself. And in that vibration, a path was revealed.
Getting home, I rushed to Google, searching for a meaning of "sivante."
Sounded kind of Italian or Spanish... did it mean anything...? Apparently not.
But, I the connection was soon made with "savant:"
"a person of profound learning; a scholar."
Holy shit, batman.
The meaning was clear. And it fit. Perfectly.
I'd spent years seeking, studying, immersing myself in books of wisdom and transformative knowledge. From the Buddhism book I stole from a hotel at age 13, to the loads of self-help and new-age stuff, to the eastern philosophy, Hill's success psychology, and looped back to the esoteric numerology that had opened this name-change door. Whoa.
Soon enough, the other half of the equation revealed itself...
I had moved to Vancouver, dubbing myself "Da Abowlishunist" as a DJ/producer name - a philosophical statement of a rebelious spirit - an expression of a purpose I'd felt to contribute to abolishing certain defunct cultural & societal systems of belief & practice. However, my first DJ agent didn't feel the name had the proper marketing flair, and bestowed upon me the alias, "DJ G-Rocka." G for Graham. Rocka, cuz I rocked the fucking house.
The name analysis of G-Rocka also revealed some severe imbalances, as was also on point in describing discordant aspects of my psyche that had emerged while taking on that identity.
And it hit me...
The name change was a metamorphis. A distillation process.
I had transitioned from Graham to "G-Rocka" - gaining strength of a party-rocker and taking that power on as an identity. But this next phase was a stripping away of all the bulk, getting rid of the weight of aspects of self that no longer served - leaving that core essence of why I was given the "G-Rocka..."
"Rock = to powerfully move with emotion; a precious stone composed of a combination of elements"
The three conditions were met.
I sat with the decision for a few weeks more. And when it was crystal clear that the path was shown, and all there was left to do was walk it, I executed.
A new legal entity was born. The old identity, written into the history books.
Looking back, that all was a different life.
So many mini-deaths, rebirths, re-creations, and transformations have taken place since.
It's a real mind-fuck sometimes, when certain family members still call me by my old name - because that's who I was. I used to resist, though now tend more to just let it slide and play along. Sometimes I feel doing so is out of integrity - playing to their perceptions of who I was rather than confidently sharing who I've become. But at the same time, it feels right to be gentle and forgiving when someone just doesn't get it - and is alot easier for everyone just to let them be in their ways, without needing validation for mine.
No doubt, it was a pretty big change. But really, it wasn't.
It was just part of my path. Part of life's development. Part of maturing into who I needed to become, allowing the boy I was once to die with honor in order to become the man he was destined to be.
As per my last piece on the subject of free will & control - this may not have been a path I truly had "control" over. And the free will in the matter was merely choosing to walk the path presented...
No regrets. No looking back. The journey carries on...