Friday, March 18, 2011

Patron of Letters

One year ago today I gave myself a very special gift. It was something for which I longed since I was 17.

It took years to find the courage; the courage to mark myself apart; the courage to do what I wanted despite the disgust my family would show; the courage to express myself with something, too often joked, will look stupid when I'm 90. Has anyone else wondered at the ridiculousness of such concerns?

I gave myself a tattoo. Why a tattoo? It's a story about me that is always with me, speaking without words. It's my journey, even quest to accept who I am, despite the ramifications. It is my artistic expression inked into my skin. I am my own artwork. 

I can't remember not wanting a tattoo but I knew it had to mean a lot to me. I didn't want anything I might regret or might not represent who I am. Then I had a dream. It was just a strange little dream; nothing special by itself. In the dream I was lying in the sun on my stomach.  As you can do in a dream, I was also the observer. On my back I could clearly see a tattoo. The image was a replica of a piece of jewelry I lost in a devastating fire. It was a carved elephant lapel pin of my mother's.

I couldn't find any pictures of the pin so I drew a stylized elephant.

Why an elephant? I've loved elephants since I was a child. I find them majestic and soothing.

Is it Ganesh? I can say, consciously, no because I was unfamiliar with the Hindu image when I prepared this. Since then I have read about him and now I wonder, too.

Remover of Obstacles, indeed.

Lord of Beginnings

Patron of Letters