When I was in graduate school getting my master’s degree in media studies at the New School in NYC, I wrote a paper called The Integration of Information. In it I talked about my teenage years, when I proudly wore peace signs, doves, and colorful flowers to show the world who I thought I was. Dancing Bears and a big Steal Your Face were clear representations of my love for the Grateful Dead, and I was eager to advertise my identity.
After some time, the patches fell off my denim jacket and the bright iconography that told my story began to fade. What once felt aligned, now felt garish and less important. I could show the world who I was simply by being in it and living a heart-driven life. That felt, and continues to feel, right. And if I want to display a lotus flower or heart today, it’s a choice that feels more like love and joy than proof of anything.
When I thought about getting a tattoo for my 40th birthday, I had some ideas but ultimately never followed through. Nor did I fulfill this desire for my 50th birthday. I never actively sought out an artist to manifest my vision, which would have made permanent the same literal storytelling that time is meant to fade into metaphor.
Fast-forward to a few months after I turned 55. My first born had already gotten a beautiful representation of a dragonfly on her back, with abstract ladybugs in the wings. She had found an artist she loved while living briefly in Haifa, Israel a couple years ago. The image honored her grandparents who had passed and my mom, in particular, with the ladybugs. It’s beautiful!
My second born, now 18, wanted to get her own ink and together we discovered the daughter of friend who had opened a fine line tattoo studio in our little borough. She does exquisite work. Here began our adventure and a magical momma-daughter date!
But what to say in this art? Something meaningful that speaks to this moment, like a photo album that shows place and time. My first design was literally telling my story, with a peace sign, comedy & tragedy, and a heart. But after sitting with it, I was no longer interested wearing my identity like that, thinking back to when my disparate parts integrated fully with my whole.
And then it came to me. Instead of a heart shape, an infinity sign placed over my heart as a reminder of the infinite, immeasurable possibility of love. Stars flowing up (more are coming), connecting that energy to the waxing moon behind my left shoulder. In Yoga, the left side is lunar/feminine. Future vision includes a sun on the front of my right shoulder with beams and rays shooting out onto my back.
I have more images for future designs which thrill me! The fine lines are elegant and reflect the artist that lives inside me, as well as all the stories yet to tell. Whether the pictures tell a literal story or poetically allude to one, today it makes no discernable difference. I am who I am which means I am also in flow with who I continue to become.
When the right causes and conditions converge, timing becomes alchemy of the divine, and this is no different. The right artist, sharing it with my daughter, and moving through the creative process I have come to trust even when it’s messy, brought my dream to light. I fucking LOVE these tattoos and can see how easily one can become consumed by the experience. In many ways I’ve been a devotee for many years, but revealed in different ways.
I have released old narratives and perceived expectations and have surrendered to my own story, one that only I can write. Whether in words on Substack or other writing platforms, in the ingredients I combine to create delicious meals, the fruits, vegetables, and flowers I plant in my garden, or the images I choose to display on my body, everything fades. Words become irrelevant, ingredients can spoil, seasons shift the nature of growth, and regardless of the ink on my body, I am.
What goes around, always comes back around, perhaps in different forms, but the same in essence.
I had an honors English teacher in high school who, when handing me my creative writing folder which was adorned with designs, said out loud, “Ms. Sadoff, no one draws peace signs and flowers anymore.” My response, without missing a beat was, “Well, maybe they should.”
There is value in words and images and often they are subjective. So what?!
Adorn yourself with the things that make you happy and when they inevitably shift direction, celebrate the energy that keeps you flowing in forward motion!
How lovely! I waited until my 40s and your choices are gorgeous. Lovely writing too for sure. <3
Love this-- “My response, without missing a beat was, “Well, maybe they should.”