Inked

Ink is permanent. Ink on skin is permanent and a little decadent.

I got inked last week.

My first tattoo. The f-holes, bridge and strings of a cello, on the small of my back. I designed it by looking at my own cello.

I've been wanting a tattoo for almost 20 years, but never could decide on what I loved so much that I would want it to forever mark me. I had ideas, but none of them grabbed me by the throat and said, "You MUST do this!!!" So I remained blank.

Cut to earlier this year. I realized just how much I love cello. I found musicians who played rock music or their own compositions with cellos (Apocalyptica, Zoe Keating, Rasputina). I remembered Gorecki's Symphony of Sorrowful Songs, which was used in the movie Fearless, at the end, when they showed the plane crash. Tragedy was never so exquisite. I even bought my own cello, to someday learn to play. The sound of a cello is a throaty, resonant, contralto. It is sexy, viscous and fluid. The visual curves of it reflect this, extremely feminine. This, I could have on my body forever.

I drew the design I wanted, found a tattoo artist (Kirk Alley, recommended by my brother-in-law Tim), and made the appointment.

I knew it was going to hurt, in my brain. I wasn't sure what KIND of pain, but I knew there would BE pain. But I wasn't prepared for how curious a sensation I found it…

Like fire searing, like a thousand needles sewing me, like being flayed with an icepick, like a hive of bees stinging my flesh over and over…He needled my skin, then he'd stop and wipe ink away, giving me a second or two of respite. I mentally clung to that respite in order to endure. It allowed to me to continue. After a bit, I actually began to look forward to the machine touching me again. I was detached from the pain, feeling it, certainly, but not attached to it in my mind. I didn't take the pain personally, and so I could just observe the sensation it roused, completely fascinated. And I was able to relax, going into nearly a meditative state, staring at the cast iron doorknob in front of my eyes.

And then he was done. Behold the cello:

And it is gorgeous…

No regrets. None at all. I went through my own personal ritual. I endured something and it makes me feel quite powerful.

It feels like I am now part of a brotherhood. Passing through the ritual bound me to all those who have gone through it before me. There's a certain pride in that knowledge. I am part of this. I have gone through the initiation and passed.

I am inked.