I finally started to get nervous as I sat on a black leather couch, studying the pictures on the wall while some burly guy covered in ink and piercings was in the back room making a copy of my ID.
Since I was in high school I have always been intrigued by tattoos: the stories behind the ink; the process; the artists. Everything. I knew that I would eventually make the trip to a tattoo parlor and give up a piece of my skin for art. The hardest part of it all: choosing a design - an ongoing battle for the past 6 years or so.
Finally, I decided, rather spur-of-the-moment, on what I wanted. My friend Bethany and I quickly hopped in my car and drove down the street.
We walked into Sacred Ink, handed over the paper that had the phrase we were both getting and promptly signed our life away with several flourishes of a pen. We chatted nervously until I was called back. Our artist was a very friendly fellow, giving helpful tips for the process. He reminded me not to move, and to remember to breath – which with my nerves I found a little hard to do for the first few seconds.
The pain was close to what I had expected – something close to a cigarette burn. It’s hard to explain, but definitely bearable. Bethany took her turn and we were given care instructions and headed back to school.
The phrase that we both got is from Tolkien: “not all who wander are lost”. For me, the phrase holds many meanings. I am a traveler at heart, always carrying the urge to pack up and explore a new place. I also travel through books, letting them take me to different realities and times. The phrase wraps around my wrist, beginning and ending with the triskele symbol, which to me means that no matter where I travel, I will always return home. I have also heard that is it representative of the Trinity – so I have my God with me on all my wanderings.
