Symbols that Sustain
I love my tattoo. I mean... like, the art that is a part of me had never manifested so clearly.
Two dragons, Patience and Strength, connected by Celtic knot-work. Patience has a beautiful wide magenta wingspan across my left outer side of my bicep. Strength is resting on a muscular claw on the inside of my forearm. Inside of Patience there's a heart ("what is patience without love?" he said). That heart is purple for healing.
I am so very strong. I always have been. When I was six, I realized that my mom had some deteriorating discs in her back. She couldn't help my dad do the heavy lifting and odd jobs around the house. So that's when I started helping him. I remember over the next few years lifting treadmills and heavy recliner chairs. Clearing a pile of roof shingles that was larger than I was. I made myself so very useful being strong. It became a part of who I saw myself as.
I'm not old. I'll start with that. But I'm getting older than I use to be. Up to this point in my life strength has been less of a "am I physically about to do it?" question, and more of a "do I believe that I can do it?" question. My philosophy has always been if I believe that I can, then there will be a way for me to do it. I may not be able to lift it outright, but I will find a way to leverage this strength power in me to do impossible things.
As time goes by, I may be losing faith in that philosophy. For whatever the reason, I am just so slightly, slowing down. My body is breaking down faster and I'm not able to keep up. I hear tell that's part of what happens. Does it feel vain if I feel this particular life trust affects me a little bit more than normal because of how much strength has always been a part of my identity? That I'm not just losing the physical mobility, but the sense of self as well.
That's part of why I needed that dragon.
I still do 'too much' I still push my limits (I pray that I am always willing to do that). And when I prepare do help with a lifting project, I roll up my sleeves to the elbow.
And now, when I roll up my sleeves to the elbow, there's a muscular purple dragon playfully grinning up to me, as if saying "We got this."
This art marks a beautiful bookmark in the story of my life.
The initial concept for this piece emerged one night after my ex-wife and I had determined that our life together was no longer on the table. I was so full of emotions: anger, heartache, righteousness, validity, pain, the list goes on and on. When I feel things, they tend to all happen at once. A convergence of experiences that surpass the logical gates that I typically keep in place. I kept chanting to myself: "What do I need to get through this?" Strength. God give me Strength. And Patience. Grant me Patience.
I was driving. It was winter. I would have stopped into any tattoo place that was open. But it was 9PM on a Tuesday. All the signs were off. I'm pretty sure that I went home and emptied a bottle of wine into my system and passed out in tears that night. Broken.
That wasn't the time for this art. I would have carried that with me when I saw this.
And, there's a part of me that does remember that night when I look at this design. But why I remember most, what I remember first, is that this is something that I did for me.
An echo of a situation sprouted again. Parting ways with someone I'd grown so close to, had been planning a life with. The design popped into my head again. "What do I need to get through this?" I asked. And then I sent a text to my sister: "I need you to come with me on Monday. I'm getting my first tattoo."
I gave the artist an overview of my design. We chatted, and two days later I sat in the chair for three hours while endorphins kept my eyes from watering. There were smiles and laughter during the process. And real discussion. A lot of good energy when into the art.
So I see Patience, and I recognize that even the roughest items smooth out edges over time. Pain can become beauty. Anger can become wisdom. Heartbreak can mean that there are more pieces of yourself that you use to connect with others. Patience is the reminder that time changes everything. That's why it's so important that Love and Healing were accidentally a part of this. A majority of the beautiful things that happen in my life are a result of remarkable mishaps :-)
I love this art that is a part of me. It's like cover art for the stories of my life.
Two dragons, Patience and Strength, connected by Celtic knot-work. Patience has a beautiful wide magenta wingspan across my left outer side of my bicep. Strength is resting on a muscular claw on the inside of my forearm. Inside of Patience there's a heart ("what is patience without love?" he said). That heart is purple for healing.
I am so very strong. I always have been. When I was six, I realized that my mom had some deteriorating discs in her back. She couldn't help my dad do the heavy lifting and odd jobs around the house. So that's when I started helping him. I remember over the next few years lifting treadmills and heavy recliner chairs. Clearing a pile of roof shingles that was larger than I was. I made myself so very useful being strong. It became a part of who I saw myself as.
I'm not old. I'll start with that. But I'm getting older than I use to be. Up to this point in my life strength has been less of a "am I physically about to do it?" question, and more of a "do I believe that I can do it?" question. My philosophy has always been if I believe that I can, then there will be a way for me to do it. I may not be able to lift it outright, but I will find a way to leverage this strength power in me to do impossible things.
As time goes by, I may be losing faith in that philosophy. For whatever the reason, I am just so slightly, slowing down. My body is breaking down faster and I'm not able to keep up. I hear tell that's part of what happens. Does it feel vain if I feel this particular life trust affects me a little bit more than normal because of how much strength has always been a part of my identity? That I'm not just losing the physical mobility, but the sense of self as well.
That's part of why I needed that dragon.
I still do 'too much' I still push my limits (I pray that I am always willing to do that). And when I prepare do help with a lifting project, I roll up my sleeves to the elbow.
And now, when I roll up my sleeves to the elbow, there's a muscular purple dragon playfully grinning up to me, as if saying "We got this."
This art marks a beautiful bookmark in the story of my life.
The initial concept for this piece emerged one night after my ex-wife and I had determined that our life together was no longer on the table. I was so full of emotions: anger, heartache, righteousness, validity, pain, the list goes on and on. When I feel things, they tend to all happen at once. A convergence of experiences that surpass the logical gates that I typically keep in place. I kept chanting to myself: "What do I need to get through this?" Strength. God give me Strength. And Patience. Grant me Patience.
I was driving. It was winter. I would have stopped into any tattoo place that was open. But it was 9PM on a Tuesday. All the signs were off. I'm pretty sure that I went home and emptied a bottle of wine into my system and passed out in tears that night. Broken.
That wasn't the time for this art. I would have carried that with me when I saw this.
And, there's a part of me that does remember that night when I look at this design. But why I remember most, what I remember first, is that this is something that I did for me.
An echo of a situation sprouted again. Parting ways with someone I'd grown so close to, had been planning a life with. The design popped into my head again. "What do I need to get through this?" I asked. And then I sent a text to my sister: "I need you to come with me on Monday. I'm getting my first tattoo."
I gave the artist an overview of my design. We chatted, and two days later I sat in the chair for three hours while endorphins kept my eyes from watering. There were smiles and laughter during the process. And real discussion. A lot of good energy when into the art.
So I see Patience, and I recognize that even the roughest items smooth out edges over time. Pain can become beauty. Anger can become wisdom. Heartbreak can mean that there are more pieces of yourself that you use to connect with others. Patience is the reminder that time changes everything. That's why it's so important that Love and Healing were accidentally a part of this. A majority of the beautiful things that happen in my life are a result of remarkable mishaps :-)
I love this art that is a part of me. It's like cover art for the stories of my life.