Enso
Enso, at its most basic meaning, is "circle" in Japanese. I first encountered the concept through Alan Watts when I began studying eastern philosphies like Zen Buddhism and Toaism about 10 years ago. The symbol, he explained, was the first symbol that was taught to students of calligraphy, but was generally agreed to be the most difficult character to master. To draw a perfect enso would mean to do so in a moment of total deliberation with empty-minded execution. One does not think about which angle to drag the brush at every moment, and one certainly does not think of other things. One might say they simply observe themselves executing. Any hesitation or flinching of the mind would result in an unsure hand, and therefore an imperfect character. And while it's one thing to draw a perfect enso, it's another to draw it every time. The point of such an excercise was not just to perfect the enso, but to perfect calligraphy.
What constitutes a perfect enso, like in all things art, is very subjective. Its qualities, it can be said, are evident to the observer. The beauty of it is not just in the shape of the circle, or the form of the stroke. The beauty is in the accidents. The sprays of ink, the stray bristles of the brush that poke out the edge are what give it its unique aesthetic:
The enso has come to mean a lot of things to me in the last 10 years. From its most obvious, like the circle's metaphors of cycles, form, and infinty, to its more subtle, like practice, wholeness, and expression, the symbol has enriched my life through each stage of my past 10 years. I've wanted this tattoo on my back for a while, and I finally got the opportunity to do so this week. To me, it already looks like it's always been there.