When I moved to New York City in the early ’90’s, tattooing was illegal. I remember feeling really curious about the second story parlors, the neon signs and flash art propped in the windows. Tattoos then had not quite hit the mainstream. There was still the air of subversiveness to them, helped no doubt, by the fact that just getting one in the five boroughs, regardless of size, subject matter or location, was an illicit act.
To be clear, for the purposes of this post I am only speaking about purely elective tattoos chosen for personal and aesthetic enhancement. I am not talking about radiation tattoos, or post-mastectomy tattoos, or incredibly lifelike nipple tattoos, though I’d be surprised if I didn’t write about that at some point in the future.
The subject matter of a selected tattoo has always been particularly interesting to me. What is it that draws one person to a unicorn on their rib cage and another to a skull on their neck? What is it they were thinking or living or experiencing when they made the decision to wear that very image for the rest of their lives? I am always curious. When talking to people about tattoos, most often those who have none, the one thing they will say is something to the effect of, “I just can’t think of what I would want on my body for the rest of my life.” But I have to say, I think they are missing the point.
We are, by definition and design, impermanent. Always changing, always shifting in response to the world around us. As we age, our bodies change. Skin is less elastic, hair less lustrous, and we shrink a little bit. We are changing–physically, intellectually, spiritually– all the time, and it is the very essence of this life to do so.
To ponder over what you would want on your body for the rest of your life flies in the face of what a tattoo actually can be. A tattoo at its most basic is ink inserted, using a needle, under the dermis. It is indelible. Skin continues to shed and regenerate and the ink remains, just underneath, telling a story about the person on whom it is displayed.
To choose a tattoo expecting it to please you in the exact same way as the day you got it for the rest of your days on the planet is an unrealistic expectation. It is an expectation, I would say, that would render you as “one who is unlikely to be tattooed”. That is ok, of course. All things are not for all people. But I would like to propose this–a tattoo should not be overthought, but it should be thoughtful. And meaningful to you. When you choose to mark yourself permanently, in whatever way that comes about, that physical alteration remains always embedded with the memory of every event leading to it, and every moment of its occurrence. You remember what you did right before, and who was with you. You remember what music was playing and what you did afterwards. As days and months and years pass, it becomes a marker. A scrap-book entry of sorts of the life you have lived thus far. Of friends no longer known, of jobs no longer held, of favorite people and places that remain, part of your story, etched in ink. It is about memory and meaning and connection.
Father Gregory Boyle of Homeboy and Homegirl Industries in Los Angeles wrote his beautiful Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion about his work rehabilitating gang members in L..A. The tattoos he speaks of are literal, of course, but more importantly they are symbolic. Symbolic of compassion and history and impression and personal evolution. Of openness to consistent and constant change. Of struggle and shedding habits and entrenchments that take so much more than they give. The tattooed heart is the heart that has lived, and hurt and healed and shone. It is the heart that struggles and shares its story as a life, and as a legacy.
In my work, I sometimes have the opportunity to sit with someone regularly over weeks and months, even years. And sometimes I meet a person only once or twice, maybe in a waiting room or infusion clinic. I like to think that every moment I spend with them is an opportunity to create an imprint–a tattoo of sorts that marks this moment in their life, that honors and accepts and witnesses their experience. This moment is important.
If I thought about these interactions as something that had to last and be unchanged forever, I don’t think I’d ever get through an introduction, the intimidation would be so great. This life and my work asks me all the time to know and embrace impermanence. To know in the very fiber of my being that everything is changing all the time, and yet, I can drop a “pin” on this map. I can mark this moment. I can make meaning and form connections and build memories fearlessly. Because it will all change again, but at least we had this moment together. We crafted a “scrap-book entry” of our own. We “tattooed” each other.
I literally cannot tell you how many times a fleeting interaction makes a difference, changes my perspective or shifts what I think is possible. I hope the same is true, at least sometimes, for those I meet. Our ability to connect to each other, to make meaning and build histories is more powerful than I have full understanding of. But it will not and cannot happen if we are afraid of what it means or afraid of our views changing or afraid of letting something go that we used to think was really great.
This post is not, of course, about tattoos at all. It is rather an invitation to think like someone who is tattooed, throughout their lives, by different artists in different cities. It is an invitation to view each of life’s moments–beautiful, painful, funny, terrible–as markers of your evolution. Not to be dwelt upon but to be honored and loved and integrated as part of who you are and what makes you you. Now. Built on who you were yesterday and the day before. To not be afraid to take in this life, as fully and with as much richness as you know how. Because you are right–it is highly unlikely that the tattoo you chose at 25 on holiday in Amsterdam is the very tattoo you would get today at 57, living in the suburbs of Chicago. But that is exactly the point. Love them both, embrace them both, hold that precious life in your hands and know that this is who you are now, the result of every shifting moment that you have lived thus far.
Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2016-2017
Erika Bonet-Bonk says
I think what you said about making an imprint on the patients you meet and making a connection is a good way for all of us to think about the people we meet on a daily basis. Every time we meet someone new or run into someone we know, we are leaving an impression and making a memory. It’s also an opportunity to learn something, however small, or to pass on information that may be helpful.
What an interesting point you made about tattoos. I love how you compare them to scrapbooks on the body. I have never really thought of them that way, which may explain why I’ve never gotten a tattoo. The thought of deciding “what” to get and how I’d feel about it forever and ever….was always just too intimidating.
Thanks for another thought-provoking article.
lorelei bonet says
Thank you! I am so glad to see you reading, and appreciate your comment!
Patty says
I really enjoyed reading this LLB! Thanks for sharing your thoughts and reflections.
lorelei bonet says
Thanks a ton, Patty.
charles says
Embracing each new tattoo and loving the ones of the past. That is life and encounters with people. Love the blog
lorelei bonet says
Charles! Thank you so much for reading…I really do appreciate it and am glad to have you reading. Thank you!
ML says
While I read this my memory of Lucinda Williams’ song “Right on Time” was looping through: “not a day goes by, I don’t think about you, you left your mark on me, it’s permanent, a tattoo, pierce the skin and the blood runs through”. your article made the meanings of that song just a little more clear. today a nurse told me about the emotional challenges she’d had drawing blood from a patient in infusion. she had to pass the needle through a tattoo of his lost daughter in order to get to his vein. he had allowed his memory to be made visible to all. i’ll share your blog with her. thank you for this entry.
lorelei bonet says
I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to respond and share this reflection. Really beautiful. Thank you!
Tatum says
Love this! The idea of moments being etched and connections imprinted the same way as ink is tattooed into who we are at that moment. And at the exact same time holding the space for shifts, impermanence and change.
I will look at my 90s tramp stamp in a whole different way now?
lorelei bonet says
Tatum! Thanks so much for your comment, thank you for reading, and I am glad to help that 90’s tattoo get some new found respect!