I Love Tattoos
The Story Of My Phoenix... As long as I have emotional pain to work through, I am going to need tattoos. Each stab of the needle draws out the invisible pain that I carry within me, to the surface of my skin and transforms it into something tangible.
Have you ever been so filled with emotional pain you can’t help but literally double over? As if your entire body is a cup and you know that you are not supposed to let it spill out, you do your best to keep it from spilling, but the pain is being poured on you relentlessly. To the point where your cup is so full that it is spilling out just as fast as it is being poured on you because, there is nowhere else for it to go. Eventually, if the pain does not let up, it will drown you.
This pain you feel is real, it hurts in every inch of your body. You can’t see the pain, but you can see the effect it has on you. You are the only one who knows it is there and you hide it from the worb because to you, it is hideously ugly. You try your best to conceal it but when something that repulsive lives inside of you on a daily basis, it starts to permeate every fiber of your being till it fuses to your insides and becomes part of you.
I was having a hard time letting go of things that had happened to me in the past. I had lost my sense of self and desperately needed to rediscover, or re-invent, who I was. People often say that this person or that person has not yet found himself or herself, but I think the self is not something you can find, it is something you create. Which brings me to the story of the Phoenix…
One day, the sun looked down and saw a large bird with shimmering feathers. They were beautiful, bright and dazzling like the sun itself. Thus, the sun granted the bird immortality. At first the Phoenix was ecstatic about the wonderful gift the sun had bestowed upon it, but its feathers were far too beautiful. People were always chasing it and trying to capture it, they wanted to have some of those beautiful, shiny feathers for themselves. Tired of running, the phoenix flew off toward the east, where the sun rises in the morning, to a desert where no humans lived, and there the phoenix lived for five hundred years. These five hundred years had taken its toll on the Phoenix, it had grown old, tired, and it had lost much of its strength. It couldn't soar as high in the sky, nor fly as fast or as far as it could when it was young.
"I don't want to live like this," thought the Phoenix. So the Phoenix lifted its head and asked the sun to make it young again. When the sun still didn't answer, the Phoenix decided to return to the place where it had lived in the beginning and ask the sun one more time. Being tired, the Phoenix frequently needed to rest, each time it landed, it collected pieces of cinnamon bark and all kinds of fragrant leaves. It tucked some in among its feathers and carried the rest in its claws.
When at last the bird came to the place that had once been its home, it landed on a tall palm tree growing high on a mountainside. Right at the top of the tree, the Phoenix built a nest with the cinnamon bark and lined it with the fragrant leaves. Now that everything was ready, the Phoenix sat down in its nest, lifted its head and asked the sun to make it young and strong again. This time the sun heard the song. Swiftly it chased the clouds from the sky, stilled the winds, and shone down on the mountainside with all its power. The animals, the snakes, the lizards, and every other bird hid from the sun's fierce rays -- in caves and holes, under shady rocks and trees. Only the Phoenix sat upon its nest and let the suns rays beat down upon it beautiful, shiny feathers. Suddenly there was a flash of light, flames leaped out of the nest, and the Phoenix became a big round blaze of fire. After the flames died down, neither the tree nor the nest were singed, however, the phoenix was gone, and in its place, lay nothing but a pile of ashes. From under the ash there rose up a young Phoenix. It was small, but it stretched its neck, lifted its wings, and began to flap. The Phoenix grew bigger with each flap of its wings, until it was the same size as the old Phoenix.
It gathered up the ashes and flew to the Egyptian Temple of the Sun in Heliopolis, where the Phoenix placed the ashes inside on the sun's altar and flew back to the desert. The Phoenix lives there still, but every five hundred years, when it begins to feel weak and old, it flies west to the same mountain. There it builds a fragrant nest on top of a palm tree, and there the sun, again burns it to ashes. Each time, the Phoenix rises up from those ashes, young, strong and perfect again.
My phoenix tattoo takes up my entire back because I am putting this old tired version of me and the past that she experienced... behind me. Although my journey was laborious and painful, along the way I picked up the tools I needed to use for my rebirth. Much like the Phoenix picked up twigs and leaves to build its nest. I knew what I wanted and I suffered through the emotional pain required to attain what I wanted. Many started on the same journey and I was the last one standing, the only one left standing, the only one with enough emotional courage and strength to withstand the Sun’s rays. I slowly rebuilt my life as I worked on this tattoo and I am eternally grateful to the artist for turning my ugly emotional pain into my beautiful Phoenix that I proudly wear on my back as a constant reminder of how courageous and strong I am. “Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor.”
Have you ever been so filled with emotional pain you can’t help but literally double over? As if your entire body is a cup and you know that you are not supposed to let it spill out, you do your best to keep it from spilling, but the pain is being poured on you relentlessly. To the point where your cup is so full that it is spilling out just as fast as it is being poured on you because, there is nowhere else for it to go. Eventually, if the pain does not let up, it will drown you.
This pain you feel is real, it hurts in every inch of your body. You can’t see the pain, but you can see the effect it has on you. You are the only one who knows it is there and you hide it from the worb because to you, it is hideously ugly. You try your best to conceal it but when something that repulsive lives inside of you on a daily basis, it starts to permeate every fiber of your being till it fuses to your insides and becomes part of you.
I was having a hard time letting go of things that had happened to me in the past. I had lost my sense of self and desperately needed to rediscover, or re-invent, who I was. People often say that this person or that person has not yet found himself or herself, but I think the self is not something you can find, it is something you create. Which brings me to the story of the Phoenix…
One day, the sun looked down and saw a large bird with shimmering feathers. They were beautiful, bright and dazzling like the sun itself. Thus, the sun granted the bird immortality. At first the Phoenix was ecstatic about the wonderful gift the sun had bestowed upon it, but its feathers were far too beautiful. People were always chasing it and trying to capture it, they wanted to have some of those beautiful, shiny feathers for themselves. Tired of running, the phoenix flew off toward the east, where the sun rises in the morning, to a desert where no humans lived, and there the phoenix lived for five hundred years. These five hundred years had taken its toll on the Phoenix, it had grown old, tired, and it had lost much of its strength. It couldn't soar as high in the sky, nor fly as fast or as far as it could when it was young.
"I don't want to live like this," thought the Phoenix. So the Phoenix lifted its head and asked the sun to make it young again. When the sun still didn't answer, the Phoenix decided to return to the place where it had lived in the beginning and ask the sun one more time. Being tired, the Phoenix frequently needed to rest, each time it landed, it collected pieces of cinnamon bark and all kinds of fragrant leaves. It tucked some in among its feathers and carried the rest in its claws.
When at last the bird came to the place that had once been its home, it landed on a tall palm tree growing high on a mountainside. Right at the top of the tree, the Phoenix built a nest with the cinnamon bark and lined it with the fragrant leaves. Now that everything was ready, the Phoenix sat down in its nest, lifted its head and asked the sun to make it young and strong again. This time the sun heard the song. Swiftly it chased the clouds from the sky, stilled the winds, and shone down on the mountainside with all its power. The animals, the snakes, the lizards, and every other bird hid from the sun's fierce rays -- in caves and holes, under shady rocks and trees. Only the Phoenix sat upon its nest and let the suns rays beat down upon it beautiful, shiny feathers. Suddenly there was a flash of light, flames leaped out of the nest, and the Phoenix became a big round blaze of fire. After the flames died down, neither the tree nor the nest were singed, however, the phoenix was gone, and in its place, lay nothing but a pile of ashes. From under the ash there rose up a young Phoenix. It was small, but it stretched its neck, lifted its wings, and began to flap. The Phoenix grew bigger with each flap of its wings, until it was the same size as the old Phoenix.
It gathered up the ashes and flew to the Egyptian Temple of the Sun in Heliopolis, where the Phoenix placed the ashes inside on the sun's altar and flew back to the desert. The Phoenix lives there still, but every five hundred years, when it begins to feel weak and old, it flies west to the same mountain. There it builds a fragrant nest on top of a palm tree, and there the sun, again burns it to ashes. Each time, the Phoenix rises up from those ashes, young, strong and perfect again.
My phoenix tattoo takes up my entire back because I am putting this old tired version of me and the past that she experienced... behind me. Although my journey was laborious and painful, along the way I picked up the tools I needed to use for my rebirth. Much like the Phoenix picked up twigs and leaves to build its nest. I knew what I wanted and I suffered through the emotional pain required to attain what I wanted. Many started on the same journey and I was the last one standing, the only one left standing, the only one with enough emotional courage and strength to withstand the Sun’s rays. I slowly rebuilt my life as I worked on this tattoo and I am eternally grateful to the artist for turning my ugly emotional pain into my beautiful Phoenix that I proudly wear on my back as a constant reminder of how courageous and strong I am. “Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor.”
41-45, F
