Today is a Murphys sort of day, Rose Tattoo currently playing. I am considering my next piece of ink, debating between a couple of options. It caused me to pause and reflect back upon my previous works and the how and why of each piece. I won’t go into all the details as some are quite personal, but they all had one thing in common, they came at a time or a moment of significant change in my life. A moment to mark in skin rather than parchment, a shift in my life or a change in how I looked forward. Hell in once case it was literally a remembrance that I have survived and that I will continue to do so.

Each one has a story of sorts beyond the image that is etched into my skin and each has a reason for being, at least for me. As I plan out the next inking of my skin I am reflecting upon the past and just how far I have come. From my first marking that I was no longer a lone wolf, to my second that was a special occasion with a very dear friend and showed me just what true love means, someone that showed me just how clever and smart I could be if I applied myself. My third came far later, when I felt that I had concurred suicidal thoughts and moved beyond the barbs and scars of my past (I of course am not fully past that all, but I was at least in a healthy place finally), and the fourth was sealing in skin the new direction in my life. Raw and powerful, unleashing the strength in rather than hide it away as society tries to beat into us men.

The next one to add to the collection will be an imprint and physical reminder of one of two things, my spirituality and grace, or my creativity. Between an angel of hope (and perhaps some Taoist imagery to go with it) or a reflection of one of my favorite authors and their creations. I am not sure which I need at this point as I go under the needle and commit to my ritual of painful meditation.

There is something weird, something that most people just don’t understand, is the painful meditation. Why in the middle of being jabbed thousands of times that I find peace and can center myself. It is one of the few times that I truly feel at peace with myself and in life. Because of this I spread these tattoos out a bit, using them to center or anchor myself in life as needed. Otherwise I might run out of skin before I run out of need for the pain.

So tell me about your tattoos, tell me about the truth you have found in the pain of the needle. What truths have you found while in that chair, chatting away with the artist and finding yourself in the middle of it all?