Once I got my first tattoo, I realized why so many people often have zero or several. Once you have one you love, you start think about other ones you could love. They feel like wearable art, unique to the person wearing it. They tell stories. They offer reminders.
I got my first tattoo in 2013. I'd always told myself I'd never get a tattoo because there's nothing I could be sure I'd like forever. And then one day I thought, "Oh, except sharks. I'll always love sharks." So then it felt like I had to get a shark tattoo. It took me awhile to find a design I liked. As you can imagine, so many tattoos of sharks are violent or scary, and that's not how I see them. I see them as beautiful and essential for healthy oceans and thus a healthy world. I wanted something simple and graceful to honor them.
The idea for my second tattoo came to me in a dream, the week my cousin died, in 2012. I didn't have the right design for that one until 2015. I was on a 2-week trip to Sri Lanka about community models of leadership. We were sitting in on a children's meditation at a meditation center and retreat. Having meditated with this group many times before, I didn't expect the huge wave of emotions and vision during this practice. I got the tattoo later that year.
The idea for my third tattoo came from reflecting on what I might get if I were to get another tattoo and where I might put it. I don't quite remember where I got the idea for a sailboat, but it stuck.
Growing up, going to Camp Michigania each summer, I was introduced to sailing. Just little Sunfish, first with my dad and then with friends and on my own. I loved how fast and free a day on the lake could be and that even if we pushed the little craft too hard, the worst that happened would be it would capsize, and then we'd just right it and try again. Of course, there are dangers on any water craft, and that boom could surely knock even a grown person on the head or into the water, but the lifeguards watched us carefully and we'd be off exploring and learning on our own.
In my 20s, in Chicago, I was lucky to know a couple of instructors with the Northwestern Sailing Club. Three of us signed up for a beginning sailing course, and in this course, I finally learned about some of the things I'd practiced but had no name or reasoning for. I learned about wind directions, angles, and how to sail slightly bigger boats, I think Lasers. I'd only sailed on a small mountain lake, and it was a big transition to Lake Michigan. We started in May, and on Day 1, we had to do a capsize test. I was quite intimidated, trying to right a much much bigger boat and in much, much colder water (though in wetsuits). After that, the intimidation faded, as they simply wouldn't let us sail in conditions too tough for our skill level.
After that, a friend and I had been at a little neighborhood dive bar when around 10 very tan, blondish, windblown men came in. They looked like surfers. But that didn't make any sense. So eventually, our curiosity was too much and we asked them what their deal was. They were sailors out of Matchrace Sailing. I'd always assumed I couldn't keep afford to take on sailing as a regular hobby, and these sailors explained that they actually really need people who will show up and take on some of the less desirable roles. They asked if we'd want to come out and be spotters, which means we would stand on the back of the boat and signal the position of the other boat (as they did one-on-one races). We were in large mono-hulls that would speed directly at each other and then make 90-degree turns, so close to each other that you could reach out and touch people on the other boat.
In San Diego, when I was working at San Diego State, I learned that as a staff member, I could take free and very discounted classes through Mission Bay Aquatic Center. My last summer, I opted into a sailing course, this time sailing on Mission Bay, again a very different beast than lakes. I think we sailed J-22s, as we could comfortably fit 3 people. Again, we had to do capsize tests and had to learn some techniques to use leverage to right the boat alone. Like at Northwestern, we could take out boats on our own, and I was happy to have that option to just go sail on the bay, hanging on the water in the beautiful San Diego weather.
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| My tattooing partner |
One of the reasons I love to sail is that it's essential to be present and connect to the environment. For safety and success, sailors must be aware of the conditions--the wind, the swells, other water crafts--and, even more so, how those conditions shift moment to moment.
Sometimes, the conditions are perfect and move the craft swiftly toward its destination. You can close haul your way, the wind and sail in perfect alignment.
Usually, when sailing, you don't take a straight line from Point A to Point B. Sometimes, you have to tack and jibe, connecting to your surroundings to yield a full sail, without going too far out of the way. Sometimes, you have rely on your training because there are some strategies that seem intuitive (like running) that aren't actually the most efficient or safe way of travel. Sometimes, the wind dies, and you have to patiently wait and watch, hoping for a change in conditions to get you going again. Sometimes, it's just not safe to go out at all, and you have to make the tough decision to stay home. Sometimes, you don't even have a destination, and you're just out on the water, enjoying the wind, waves, and view. Sometimes you're the skipper; sometimes you're the crew; and sometimes you're all alone.
This little sailboat is my reminder to stay present to my situation and the conditions, that it's okay if my life isn't moving in a straight line from Point A to Point B. My tacks and jibes are examples of paying attention to the conditions and changing my course appropriately.
There was quite a gap in deciding on this metaphor and tattoo idea and actually getting it. Lots of love to Laura Masters for finding a design I finally loved. Then, of course, there was a pandemic, so there was still a bit of a delay.
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| Fresh |
Then, one Saturday, when I had some tentative plans that fell through, Missy reached out to me because she'd also had plans fall through. She asked if we should go get the tattoos we had been talking about getting together for years. So we did.
I'm so thankful to have friends who do such much planning that it makes what might seem like an impulsive decision to be a sure one.
I love it.
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