Friday, November 04, 2005


I finally got my tattoo fixed.
Perhaps the timing has to do with the fact that my ruling planet (Mars) is closest to Earth now than ever. At 69million kilometres, it will only be this close again in 13 years.
Truth is – I didn’t plan it… I didn’t choose the time, the timing chose itself.

Unlike my first tattoo… there was no fore planning; no hours on end over the Internet searching for that right image… just a feeling of what I wanted and fate at hand. Walking into the parlour, my only intention was to pass the time and take a look at future options. It was a pair of green eyes so much like mine that begun creating the possibility. The artist decided to play around with the design I wanted that before we both knew it, I had in my hand the exact image of what my soul commanded. Fate made up my mind and before I knew it, I was preparing myself for the needle…

“Why the sad face?” the artist asked.
I guess that I always imagined that this time around, that someone special would be there holding my hand.
Angry with myself for thinking such things, I reminded myself that my tattoo was an expression of my individuality, needing no other input other than my own.
It will still be there after Love has come and gone; time and time again.
That is what she represents after all, my butterfly – My capacity for Survival. I shall never require a special reason or person in life as long as I maintain faith in myself.

My butterfly – her colour representing so much more than it did when I chose it and her wings big enough to fly any distance. Her four tips reminding me of the four defining years of my life in Madeira and the tribal background reminding me of my spirit… part of the design ironically contributed by my best friend, there to remind me that friends are our special angels which bring out the best in us.

I winced at the prick of the needle, swearing under my breath for having such intense ideas and desires. Before a tear could fall I closed my eyes and allowed the walls around my heart to crumble. The cruel reminder of my tattoo artist echoed in my mind:
Nothing happens per chance – Everything happens for a reason.
Phil Collin’s “Groovy kind of a Love” started playing on the radio and I gave up on fighting the signs and reasons falling into a meditative state where I felt nothing else besides the music. By the time Mariah Carey finished her “we belong together” it was over and she finally looked the way she should.

A butterfly is one of God’s most fragile creatures, yet she survives the pouring rain, the scorching sun and all sorts of predators. Able to travel great distances - needing no guide and no map. The cruellest way to kill her is to grab her by the wings, incapacitating her ability to fly free.
She reminds me of what a worm is able to develop into given the time and opportunity, never going back to its original form. A butterfly might stop to rest, but she’ll never forget how to fly. She’s a survivor – I’m a survivor.
I thanked the artist and both our angels for organising our calendars. He asked me if it had hurt, a curiosity considering he’d assumed it wouldn’t hurt as badly as the first one. I merely smiled and told him that in life there are worse pains that a person has to endure and the butterfly was there to remind me of that.


Anonymous said...

Not much to say about this. Guess everyone feels a particular way about their own marks, self inflicted or not. Sometimes I think that no matter how much people ask what does that tatoo means, our explanation will never sufice. Things that are so intimate, that in spite of being at sight, will always be a little bit more than what words can express.
By the way, it came out nice.

Luisa Singer said...

Wow! I´m dying to see that in the flesh ( a good excuse to see my sweet friend), I think we all should be butterflies. The way you describe them, makes everyone want to be one to say the least. I think I truly am one in my heart and I beleave that you are one as well. We will survive!!