A New Tattoo!
Almost two years ago, in 2006, I got my first tattoo. After the battle that was art school and my year in Europe, I wanted a symbol to commemorate the strength of will that got me through those trials, a reminder of all I had to hang on to in times of despair. So I got a tattoo of a modified infinity symbol on the inside of my right wrist, my writing hand, a knot on the end of my rope to keep from slipping off.
The actual experience of getting the tattoo was another story. My tattoo artist at Euphoria was very arrogant and condescending, questioning my readiness to get a tattoo at all simply because I didn’t like the design he drew. I ended up going with my own design, and I still love it, but the experience left a questionable taste in the back of my mind—a feeling that I had not been entirely validated, that yet another thing in my life had been subtly undermined. No regrets, you understand…just a slightly different learning experience than I’d intended.
This is a photo of my left ankle, seated on a bench in Capital City Tattooz on Tennessee Street. They’d been recommended to me by a friend; so, after getting yet more arrogant attitude from some of the other shops in town, I paid them a visit. The tattoo artist, Jason, understood immediately what I wanted when I gave him the design, and took the time to help me adjust it to perfection. Whenever I expressed doubt, he made sure to remind me that it was my body, and that I had the right to tweak anything as long as I needed to.
I visited Friday night, but took the evening to think it over before going in Saturday afternoon. I’d chosen this design around New Year’s as my next tat, but various things had prevented me from taking the step. After a particularly intense Ostara ceremony, I understood inside myself that it was time. Body modifications are for me not just commemorations and symbols, but real, living anchors in the physical of energies and intentions that I’d like to ground in my life. I find that the positive, laid-back atmosphere of Capital City was a great place to acknowledge and anchor in a tattoo, the feelings of pride in my accomplishments and optimism in my future that I’ve been feeling lately—as anyone who knows me realizes, those emotions were hard fought for and won.
Two years ago, I set my face against despair and activated a willpower that I only had faith in possessing. Two years later, I get to celebrate the accuracy of that faith.
My tattoo was of the constellation Orion, worked in brown dots to resemble little beauty spots. I have plenty of those naturally, and I like to think of myself as an inverse night sky. The constellation Orion has been one of the few things in my life that has stayed constant—no matter where I move, whether I am a success or a failure there, whether my heart is filled with agony or wicked excitement—I know that for half of the year, I can look up and spot that man in the sky. Always there. Silent. Luminous. Mine.
If we are our own constellations, collections of points and void, and if we make our own meanings out of ourselves and truly do construct our own narratives, then mine has less to do with the dark space between than with the light shining eternally out. So what if there’s more darkness than light sometimes? What matters is not quantity, but constancy. The permanence of a tattoo is a balm to one who’s experienced an excess of change. As I grow into adulthood, the ability to create stability for myself has been a lifesaving blessing.
Both of my tats so far have been simple to the point of invisibility, and I like it that way. I’ve always wanted my body art to seem like it rose up naturally from within me, to be seen only by those who are looking closely. An unexpected bit of meaning, floating on my surface. Here is a photo taken Saturday afternoon, immediately after removing the bandage.
Out of the seven marks that I chose to comprise the tattoo, one is an eight-pointed star, blue and red. This star, however tiny, also holds various meanings for me—which is another blog entry entirely.
It takes multiple inner steps for me to confront and act on the desire to mark my own body. I don’t do it lightly…but I do try to show a sense of humor in what I choose to do with myself. The only thing stronger than being able to turn one’s back on despair, is to be able to stare it in the eye, and laugh.
Thank you, last two years.
![bookmark](http://www.erosdiscordia.com/wp-content/plugins/share-and-follow/images/blank.gif" height=){kind=small}
Related Posts
Leave a comment
