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
