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It was the late nineties and I was high on taking control of my life.
I was just sixteen and so I wasn’t “legally” in control of my life yet, but I thought I was more free and more in control than ever.
I wanted to mark this with some sign, some symbol, not of rebellion, but of individuality.
I wanted a tattoo.
What I wanted was a symbol representing that I was who I was and not what anyone else said I was.
I wanted a reminder to “never surrender myself for the sake of the comfort of others”.
In theory, this was a great idea.
In practice, it was not.
First of all, I was deeply in denial. I was adamantly insisting I was something I was not. I was already surrendering myself for the sake of the comfort of others.
Secondly, what I chose was a “Chinese symbol”
You’ve seen them.
A dime a dozen tattoos, most, if not all of them, from the nineties.
The idea behind taking the symbol was not entirely douchy however, or at least, that’s how I remember it.
I picked it from a book after searching through the pages for hours for something that would fit what I wanted from it. I wanted a small symbolic representation of only ever being me and nothing else. Pure, untainted me.
I wanted something that most of the people I’d run into wouldn’t be able to recognize, not because I wanted to be asked what it meant, but because I wanted to be able to decide whether or not to actually tell anyone what it meant.
What actually happened is that I picked a symbol which I didn’t recognize nor understand, from a culture I knew next to nothing about.
I picked it even if I could in no shape, way, or form, verify it’s translation or meaning or importance.
I could not know whether or not it was considered “just a word” or whether it had any added importance in the culture of it’s origin.
I could not know whether it’s meaning as a word was what was written in the book or not.
And I got inked.
I don’t go out of my way to hide it.
It’s an important lesson for me to learn.
It’s something I can never walk away from.
I made an ignorant and poor choice, and I will live with it’s consequences.
As such, the symbol’s grown to represent that folly of youth, that ignorance, that foolishness that I had at the time.
The self-important, self-righteous, over-assessment of my own intellect, maturity, and so on.
In time, I will get it tattooed over, in a symbolic gesture.
It won’t be a “cover up”, it’ll be an old, faded tattoo, which stands today for my ignorance, which will be absorbed into a new, larger tattoo.
A tattoo of Hugin and Munin, the two ravens of Odin.
Their names mean “Thought” and “Memory”. They sit on Odin’s shoulders and whisper into his ears all the wonders and events of the world that they witness while they fly.
To me, they stand for learning. Taking the time to research, taking the time to learn about something, anything, before I do it. Having the humility and presence of mind to listen. To know the difference between fact and belief or opinion. All of that good stuff.
And I will get that tattoo when I’ve earned it.
When I’m ready and the tattoo is ready and the body is ready and the money is there and the right tattooist is there and my beliefs are where they need to be… I will get that tattoo.
Until then, I have a reminder not to act so thoughtlessly, not to choose so carelessly, and not to think myself so intelligent, so clever, that I fail to properly question my choices and my motives.
I was just sixteen and so I wasn’t “legally” in control of my life yet, but I thought I was more free and more in control than ever.
I wanted to mark this with some sign, some symbol, not of rebellion, but of individuality.
I wanted a tattoo.
What I wanted was a symbol representing that I was who I was and not what anyone else said I was.
I wanted a reminder to “never surrender myself for the sake of the comfort of others”.
In theory, this was a great idea.
In practice, it was not.
First of all, I was deeply in denial. I was adamantly insisting I was something I was not. I was already surrendering myself for the sake of the comfort of others.
Secondly, what I chose was a “Chinese symbol”
You’ve seen them.
A dime a dozen tattoos, most, if not all of them, from the nineties.
The idea behind taking the symbol was not entirely douchy however, or at least, that’s how I remember it.
I picked it from a book after searching through the pages for hours for something that would fit what I wanted from it. I wanted a small symbolic representation of only ever being me and nothing else. Pure, untainted me.
I wanted something that most of the people I’d run into wouldn’t be able to recognize, not because I wanted to be asked what it meant, but because I wanted to be able to decide whether or not to actually tell anyone what it meant.
What actually happened is that I picked a symbol which I didn’t recognize nor understand, from a culture I knew next to nothing about.
I picked it even if I could in no shape, way, or form, verify it’s translation or meaning or importance.
I could not know whether or not it was considered “just a word” or whether it had any added importance in the culture of it’s origin.
I could not know whether it’s meaning as a word was what was written in the book or not.
And I got inked.
I don’t go out of my way to hide it.
It’s an important lesson for me to learn.
It’s something I can never walk away from.
I made an ignorant and poor choice, and I will live with it’s consequences.
As such, the symbol’s grown to represent that folly of youth, that ignorance, that foolishness that I had at the time.
The self-important, self-righteous, over-assessment of my own intellect, maturity, and so on.
In time, I will get it tattooed over, in a symbolic gesture.
It won’t be a “cover up”, it’ll be an old, faded tattoo, which stands today for my ignorance, which will be absorbed into a new, larger tattoo.
A tattoo of Hugin and Munin, the two ravens of Odin.
Their names mean “Thought” and “Memory”. They sit on Odin’s shoulders and whisper into his ears all the wonders and events of the world that they witness while they fly.
To me, they stand for learning. Taking the time to research, taking the time to learn about something, anything, before I do it. Having the humility and presence of mind to listen. To know the difference between fact and belief or opinion. All of that good stuff.
And I will get that tattoo when I’ve earned it.
When I’m ready and the tattoo is ready and the body is ready and the money is there and the right tattooist is there and my beliefs are where they need to be… I will get that tattoo.
Until then, I have a reminder not to act so thoughtlessly, not to choose so carelessly, and not to think myself so intelligent, so clever, that I fail to properly question my choices and my motives.
