“Talismans are reminders of what is felt but not seen, what is so, but not immediately obvious.”
— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves
I’ve always wanted a tattoo. Of a dolphin. I knew that much. What I didn’t was when. I decided marking my 30 on the planet would be a good time to get inked.
But when I neared 30, I decided I’d never get a tattoo.
I didn’t want to bother my body any further than the endless (24/7) labor it already puts in to see me through my everyday.
So I rode the mighty horse for 5 more years until I went on a mountain trek this year on my 35th birthday. I was surprised to discover that my body was far more perseverant and resolute than I had ever given it credit for [a short reminscent: I stood up that morning on my campsite and my legs instantly collapsed from the exertion of scaling 3000 meters altitude the previous day. I then took 9 more hours of steps to climb down to the mountain base] This kind of reinvigorated my desire to adorn a tattoo that would serve as a reminder of the spirit I seem to harbour.
What does a tattoo mean for you?
Art? armour? an amulet?!
I intended it to be an amulet, a talisman 🧿 that I could carry with me. Watching over me through my journey. Singing a tale of my identity.
And a needed respite when I found myself lost.
And that is how my tattoo was born. With the three elements.
a bookmark for a reminder to return to
a Dolphin to epitomise my spirit of breaking free from a comfort zone.
in the shape of an Enso, an incomplete circle, to mark this acceptance I have grown for the imperfect moments.
Bookmark
A bookmark, like a quiet reminder to return to. To a page in a book or a phase in my life that I needed to revisit and recalibrate when I am lost.
Like a moment in time to retain my strength from; to assess how much I have changed, grown since the last time I looked. Like a moment in time to regain my confidence to once again push the confining boundaries.
A stain on my body to contain this ever evolving self. Like a snake ready to shed its skin to make room for its new development.
Dolphin
Not because they are cute, but I have been enamoured, fascinated by dolphins. From a long, long time. I considered them my spirit animals. They remain a mystery to me despite my encounters.
Almost other-worldly. Free, in a wild and distant ocean. Jumping into an unknown realm. With each leap, further away from a comfort zone. Yet always on the move.
With each splash drowning out the noises around, and the voices from within. But rising, soaring actually.
Enso
An incomplete circle. A sacred Zen symbol where the being is content; content to be in a perfectly imperfect moment.
Not craving; not demanding; just accepting and flowing.
Because there’s always so many things catching my attention, A gemini mind’s kaleidoscope rings with many colours and fancy patterns, I eventually realised that I was trying too hard in rowing against my natural flow. Trying to be stellar at anything never settled with me. I’m content with the work and things I do/have done and if I don’t feel as driven to finish something as much as I did in discovering something new, I just let it go.
Quitting comes naturally to me. I don’t ever remember having a friction for having to let go. I still might to a certain extent but then it simply passes over.
Which is when I stumbled across the concept of enso, an incomplete circle. An imperfect circle. A willingness to not just tolerate but embrace a flawed moment. It mirrored and reflected my core to me.
It helped me to process the beauty in my imperfect self. Relishing the progress but giving it up for newer pursuits.
From inside a bookmark, a dolphin in the shape of an incomplete circle is jumping out of its comfort zone.
This is my tattoo. This is my talisman.
And this, is my bookmark.
a mark of my journey
an amulet to carry
born from the weight of my thoughts
grey ink
draining the void in my veins
calling me from out there
guiding me with a lamplight
a mark to my essence
a talisman to my trials
born from the weight of my thoughts
splattered ink
staining the skin on my corpse
