What's in a Name? A Mother's Love for her Children

I know several people who have had the names of boyfriends and girlfriends – husbands and wives – tattooed on their bodies – the ultimate romantic gesture. I’ve also seen these same people, years, months, weeks, days later, having the same names covered up.

I’ve heard it said before that having someone’s name tattooed on your body is the kiss of death to relationships. Is this true? I really don’t know. And I am not entirely certain where I stand on the issue. There is someone in my life whose name I would like to have tattooed on my body. Holding tightly to superstition (or, on a deeper level I have feared uncertainty) he has convinced me that this is a bad idea.

As with anything and everything in life, there are some couples whose relationships have survived having their partners name tattooed on their bodies. For other couple, perhaps it was the kiss of death.

Whatever the case, I would be willing to bet it is more a function of the relationship than the tattoo, but this one statement could turn into an entire essay or dissertation all on its own merits.

There are a lot of people who have the names of people they love tattooed on their bodies. As I think of the title of this project – “Soul to Skin” – I think of tattoos as visible reflections of those intimately important things we feel in our hearts and souls. Most of us have people in our lives that we love. People who have touched those deep and often inaccessible places in our hearts and spirits. In my experience, a love that strong – the kind that stirs our spirit in ways we never dreamed – is something I (you?) want to share with the entire world.

I have the initial ‘e’ in two different tattoos to represent my daughters, Emerson and Eleanor. Recently I had a tattoo placed on my ankle that is scripted in my Mom’s handwriting. My daughters and my mother are part of who I am – biologically, familiarly, emotionally, spiritually – it only made sense to want all of those internal love connections made visible on my skin. I am not alone.

It has been several months since I met with Tracey. She had several interesting stories to tell, and I will do so – one at a time. Even without knowing her or having a conversation with her, the art on her body speaks volumes about the love she has for her children and family. The depth of feeling in her heart and soul is recognizable to the naked eye.

Her children’s names are scripted on her wrists – a mother’s badge of pride and celebration for and in honor of the sons and daughter who mean more to her than mere words can describe. As a mother, and, I imagine as many mothers out there reading this, I can relate completely to my children being the center of my universe. Despite the mistakes we might make along the way as we hone our parenting skills, our children, my children, are the most amazing things I have done with my life. If I were to draft a resume of my life’s greatest accomplishments, Em and Ella would be at the tippy-top of the list above anything and everything else I have done.

This story, and I apologize for the digression, is about Tracey.

In January 2008, Tracey, her three children and her cats, packed up their belongings and memories, gently placed into a U-Haul and moved from Maryland to Liberty, South Carolina. Her husband, at that time, remained in Maryland preparing the home they had lived in for sale.

He finally made it down to Liberty the following August, and almost immediately upon his arrival, announced that he wanted a divorce. Tracey and her husband had been married for 17 years, and despite hindsight which has made her think that he had been planning the divorce for some time, 17 years is a long time to love another person, to share a life, to share children. 17 years’ worth of memories (good and bad), love, laughter, tears, worries, victories … no one but a robot could wipe these things out of her heart and mind in a matter of minutes.

No matter how poor a marriage might be divorce is painful for all parties involved. Bottom line.

As I talk with Tracey, I am impressed by her compassion and tender-heartedness; within her I also see a fighter and a strong woman. Someone who is capable of grieving yet simultaneously picking herself up by the old proverbial boot-straps and getting on with the getting on. Frankly, as a mother who has children depending on her, Tracey (and other women like her) had no other option really. She picked up the pieces and started to reconstruct a life without her husband.

Possessing a new found freedom, Tracey decided that she was going to start living for herself instead of making choices that centered, primarily, on pleasing her husband. Because he had never been a fan of tattoos or the amazing artistry brought to life in their indelible placement on a human canvas, one of the first things Tracey decided to do for herself was to get the tattoo she had always wanted.

Tracey has always had an appreciation for art. Her home is decorated with paintings done by her step-dad. Her appreciation of art extends beyond traditional forms of paint, watercolor and charcoal sketches, evidenced by the fact that she had always wanted a tattoo. After seeing the 1981 film Tattoo – staring Bruce Dern and Maude Adams – her appreciation of tattooing morphed into a deeper love for the artistry.  Tracey recalls that “it was kind of a spooky movie,” but she loved the way the tattoos looked.

On October 17, 2008, Tracey got her first tattoo. The significance of the date: it was her wedding anniversary. She and her husband were no longer together; rather than succumbing to sadness, Tracey decided to make the day an opportunity to celebrate the positive aspects of this new chapter in her life.

Located on her lower back, Tracey’s first tattoo celebrates the bond she shares with her children, parents and sister.

 

“It’s a heart with wings and Sam did it at Amber Island. Underneath of it - it has starting at my youngest son’s initials, then my middle son, then my daughter, and then my sister and then my parents. Because first of all, they lift my heart, so the wings are them,” said Tracey. “Your children will always be your children. Your siblings will always be your siblings. Your sister is always going to be your sister and your parents are always going to be your parents, but there is no way in hell that your husband [is always going to be] your husband. So his initials are nowhere. Even though he [her son] is a junior, it always says ‘jr’ after his initials.”

Inspired by another woman with whom Tracey worked, she decided to have her children’s names tattooed on her wrists.

“I thought, I want something to stand out because my children are my world,” said Tracey. “So I had my daughter’s name and my sons’ names done.”

Funny story: In March 2008, before she moved to South Carolina, Tracey had to have three discs in her neck fused (This would not be the funny part). She and her husband had planned a trip to SC to visit her parents, but because of the recent surgery, Tracey was prohibited from traveling. Her daughter, Alyssa, stayed in Maryland with her and her husband brought their boys down to visit with their grandparents.

“Of course I was on pain medicine,” said Tracey. “Alyssa had her cell phone and I had my cell phone. She sent me a text one night and it said ‘Good night. I love you.” And the next morning, she said mamma, are you ok? And I was like, yeah, why?”

“She said did you see the text message you sent me? And I said ‘no. What did I say?’”

“She showed me, and it said “luv vavt.” That was the text message I sent her. And I’m looking at my phone and I’m thinking I don’t know what that was. And that became just a little thing between me and Alyssa,” said Tracey. “And she’ll send me a message through the day and she’ll say “luv vavt.” And it’s our little thing mother-daughter.”

Recalling this story, Tracey went back to Moto at Amber Island (who had done the tattoos of her children’s names) and she had the words “luv vavt” added with her daughter’s name.

Although Shakespeare’s Juliet might not place a great deal of significance in a name [Juliet: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."] there are those of us who do – especially when it comes to our family and significant others – our children and loved ones.

Having a loved one’s name tattooed on the body is an outward expression of the bond and relationship shared between the parties. I imagine there is less likelihood that anyone would have a family member’s name covered up or removed – compared with the name of a romantic love interest – but I am still not convinced that having a lover’s name tattooed marks the beginning of the end of the romance.

True love, I believe, transcends words and has forever been a subject tackled by artists and writers alike. Again, I imagine this is another topic for another time. 

Zukeasha: Phoenix Rising

“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.” Helen Keller

I hadn’t planned on an interview last night because I have felt behind and guilty for not catching up sooner. [Oh the things I allow my brain to do to me sometimes.] Funny how, once again, I was humbled by the realization that people are put into my life at specific times because they show or tell me something that I need to hear. Of course, I would like to hope that the reverse is true – that perhaps I offer others something that they need at the time.

Truth be told, I had gone up to Amber Island to see Moto if only for a brief moment and an amazing hug.

In so doing, I had the great fortune of meeting Zukeasha, hearing her story and documenting the mythical phoenix as it rises from the flames into the beautiful serenity of a lotus. Before I dive completely into Keasha’s story, nerd that I am, I feel compelled to offer a brief note on the phoenix.

The phoenix is a sacred firebird documented in the mythologies of the Arabian, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, Chinese, Indians and Phoenicians. Described as a bird with a colorful plumage and a tail of gold and scarlet (or purple, blue, and green according to some legends), the phoenix has a 500 to 1000 year life-cycle, near the end of which it builds itself a nest of twigs that then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix or phoenix egg arises, reborn anew to live again. The new phoenix is destined to live as long as its old self. Some stories suggest that the new phoenix embalms the ashes of its old self in an egg made of myrrh and deposits it in the Egyptian city of Heliopolis (literally "sun-city" in Greek). The phoenix is said to utter a cry that is a beautiful song, and the tears of the phoenix are also believed to have healing properties.

Lotus Flowers grow in the deep mud, far away from the sun; however, the Lotus eventually reaches the light becoming the most beautiful flower ever. Regarded in many cultures and eastern religious as a symbol of purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration and rebirth, the characteristics of the Lotus create a perfect analogy for the human condition: even when its roots are in the dirtiest waters, the Lotus produces the most beautiful flower.

When she was a little girl, Keasha dreamed of becoming a doctor; as an adult, she found herself working for a corporation, like so many others, the soul of which is driven by financial gain. Instead of having the opportunity to develop close relationships with patients needing a gentle touch or warm reassurance, she found herself in a sterile cubicle – the antithesis of her childhood dream.

Like everyone else in America these last few years, Keasha felt the overwhelming burden of our troubled economy. With a daughter to support, leaving her corporate job was not an option despite the fact that she was miserable being there. Like so many of us have felt at moments in our lives, she was stuck: The weight of responsibility often outweighs the desires of personal ambition.

Faith and Divinity conspired, and one afternoon Keasha found herself in a meeting with one of the corporate human resources personnel. In the lingo of the corporate machine, she was being “let go.” Instead of being plagued with anxiety about how she would manage financially, how she would provide for her family, she allowed that door in her life to close with a rush a relief so clear that the individual letting her go was startled by Keasha’s calm demeanor.

On the path to becoming a respiratory therapist, Keasha is living her adult version of that childhood dream. Listening to her talk about school and the direction she is headed, I couldn’t help but feed on her excitement and energy. She said she feels like she is doing something meaningful with her life because instead of having a career that focuses on earning more money for other people, she will be doing something to help people in need.

Think about this – breath – breathing is the very foundation of life. When we stop breathing, we die. As a respiratory therapist, Keasha is moved by the thought of helping people breathe and improving the quality of their lives.   

The tattoo of the phoenix, rising from flame into the serenity of the lotus, symbolizes this dramatically positive change in Keasha’s life. She told me that with everything going on, she came to the profound realization that she might not be able to change or assert control over certain circumstances, but she can make changes in herself and her response to whatever circumstance in which she happens to find herself. One paramount key to this realization for Keasha has been self-acceptance and learning to love and embrace the essence of who she is and all she will continue to become.

On a personal note, what inspired me most about Keasha is the role model she is for her daughter. The three of us – Moto, Keasha and myself – went off on a tangent about children’s television programming. During our conversation, she and I agreed that we liked Dora the Explorer much better than the Disney Princesses because Dora is independent. She has a map, a back-pack and a monkey and, unlike the princesses who tend to rely on men for their rescue, Dora takes the old proverbial bull-by-the-horns and figures it out herself. We agreed that we much preferred Dora as a role model for our daughters for these very reasons.

I couldn’t help but think about what an amazing example Keasha is for her daughter. While she was in a job that she despised, she did not quit or walk away because she had responsibilities and commitments to fulfill and uphold. And when the divinity of the universe conspired in her favor and closed that corporate door, she confidently and gracefully walked through a new door, negotiating all the twists and turns leading her to the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. What an incredible gift to give to a child – especially one shared between mother and daughter.

Because of the choices she has made (not the “do as I say, but not as I do” hypocrisy), Keasha is a shining, living example for her daughter to never give up on her dreams, to work diligently, to be responsible, to be committed, to never give up, and that when one holds tightly to faith and hope, nothing is impossible.

Whitney's Sunflowers

When I walked into Moto’s room at the tattoo shop to meet Whitney, I was overcome by a sensation of utter peacefulness.

With the exception of her left arm and shoulder, where Moto was working on a beautiful tangle of earthy sunflowers with interwoven strips of film, Whitney was wrapped up in a zebra print Snuggy, head back, eyes closed, relaxing into each deep and purposeful breath.

She looked so comfy and cozy, in such a state of meditative bliss that I hated to interview her. I didn’t want to disrupt her peace and focus with a barrage of questions that would require her to think and talk and interact instead of finding comfort in that very moment while being tattooed.

I certainly plan on doing my own research throughout this process because I am curious and inquisitive; I love research and learning; and, I am proud to say, I am just a geek like that. I imagine there are all sorts of psychological research studies that deal with the physiology of tattoos and how tattoos affect the pain and pleasure centers in the brain, but this will be another blog. Note to self.

Whitney’s serenity immediately made her interesting – as did the sunflowers searching for sunlight along her upper arm and shoulder area. It is only natural that the first question I ask relates to the sunflowers and their significance to her; it goes without saying that she could have chosen from any wide variety of flowers that decorate our planet, but Whitney wanted sunflowers. A woman after my own heart.

“I knew I wanted sunflowers because they are my favorite flowers. They have so much inspiration. They are happy and I always loved how they follow the sun,” she said. “And I liked the fact that the gold wasn’t too different from my skin color.”

As we continued to talk, Whitney made a statement I have thought many times myself: “Sometimes it’s easy to forget to be happy.”

I’m not sure that this is true for everyone. There are some people who seem to be happy the majority of the time.

Optimists who always see a half-full glass and approach the world with an unyielding positivity. I have always envied people like this, because I have spent so much of my life looking at the worst case scenario. Since college (and really before then if I think about it), I have battled depression and anxiety issues that make it challenging for me to be the bubbling fountain of positivity I wanted to be. Being optimistic is something I have had to practice. Something I still practice. There are days when I struggle, but I have made so much progress.

I’ve heard Moto say several times now – the longer you don’t quit, the better you get. This is true with anything in life. Training the mind to perceive situations in a more positive manner is no different.

Whitney is an artist. She works in a salon and creates hair styles. Any profession that finds you sitting behind or across from someone in your chair immediately thrusts you into the role of counselor and confidant. Every time I get my hair cut and colored, I walk away feeling like I have also had a therapy session.

Remembering to be happy can be difficult, Whitney confided, especially if and when she has clients who are going through things or personal issues. This statement speaks volumes about how much she cares about people and what they might be coping with at any given moment. She is sensitive and compassionate, which, I think to myself (like me), makes her somewhat vulnerable. The unique ability to both sympathize and empathize are amazing character attributes; they also open the human heart wide, and can make one subject to feeling another’s pain or sadness.

Sunflowers, bright, strong and confident are open wide to the light and warmth of the sunshine, much like Whitney opens her mind and heart allowing other people to share their stories. Having them tattooed on her shoulder is a consistent reminder, she says, “of a little something you can look at to make you smile.”

Whitney told me that throughout her own personal journey, she has learned to talk more.

“Growing up I didn’t share myself with people. I didn’t know how to express emotions. And I still struggle as an adult, but I can express myself now. I’m in the best relationship I’ve ever had. And it works – not only because he’s great and perfect for me, but he’s that person that I know I can talk to. The good, the bad, whatever – he’s there – and I can just lay it all out. And being able to do that is the only way it helps.”

Like the sunflowers on her shoulder, I cannot help but make the analogy that Whitney continues to blossom and open in her own life.

In her state of serenity, I hated the idea of bombarding Whitney with questions. Naturally, I wondered why she didn’t share herself or her emotions much growing up. Why it was a struggle. My hope is to recommend with her to ask these questions, as I am doing my diligence to not analyze people (though the counselor in me makes that difficult).

The juxtaposition of the filmstrip – something man-made thus a drastic difference compared to the natural growth and development of sunflowers – literally captures talent, creativity, moments of raw and genuine emotion in each frame – compelled me to ask the questions what and why?

“The film strip. That we’ll do later. The base is already there. It’s because I love movies. It’s always something I wanted,” Whitney said. “Growing up, we didn’t really watch cable. We watched movies all the time. And that was always special. So I thought to incorporate that, but also make it more personal if I put things that kind of describe the person I am in the film strip slots.”

I would be remiss not to ask Whitney what her plans for the filmstrip slots were. “I have a lot of ideas. Definitely something to do with music. I have a huge passion to hear it, play it, watch it, everything. Something to do with hair. And then I have several other ideas – maybe a cross or something to represent my upbringing. Who knows? I don’t want to make any hasty decisions.”

Whitney’s tattoo is a beautiful work in progress. My hope, of course, is that she will allow me to follow her on her journey as she and Moto develop pieces for the filmstrip and continue to work on the piece as a whole.

I typically have a difficult time leaving “things” incomplete. As I continue through this journey, I am reminded that, like everything else in my life, this project, this blog, my dream of creating a complete and publishable book are works in progress. Our personal journeys and stories, I suspect, are never fully complete. As we grow and evolve, so do all of the moments of meaning in our lives.

This is only the beginning of Whitney’s story. Of this, I am positive. Again, my hope is that she will continue to share her story with me as it develops. 

Alchemy

It might seem as though I have been slack in the writing department. I assure you, I have not. Whether or not it gets put on paper, my brain is constantly writing. Ideas flash through the grey matter at alamaring (not really - it is not a schizophrenic flight of ideas and to steal from my favorite Sheldon Cooper - "I'm not crazy. My mother had me tested!")

While I am playing catch-up on my interview transcription and blog posts, I thought I would share one of my recent columns from the paper - that would be The Pickens County Courier. I have a weekly column and if you subscribe and say you are subscribing because of my column, I might get a raise or at least begin making above minimum wage (wink, wink - nod, nod) ... Geez! I am on a Sassy role this morning. Must be the high octance coffee.

This "post" might not relate to tattooing per se, but it does relate to one of my tattoos (story to come) and I think it will connect as this project unfolds. That said .....

I imagine most people are fairly conventional when it comes to relationships.

Two people meet and begin dating. They take ample time to get to know one another, to develop trust, emotional intimacy, strong communication processes. Maybe they also develop a physical intimacy built, again, on trust and communication. They share their individual needs and wants and begin to dream of a future together making those hopes and desires a reality.

At some point, they decide they want to get married, so they get engaged. The engagement process is typically proportional in time measurement to the months and (or) years leading up to the engagement. The couple gets married and settles into life together. Maybe they start a family. They evolve as a unit built on a foundation of unconditional love and acceptance. Mutual respect and appreciation.

I’m certain it will come as no surprise to my regular readers that I see love from a slightly unorthodox perspective, which is to say that the romantic in me believes in love at first sight and soul mates. The notion that God, in all of his infinite wisdom, has divinely created perfect matches that he unites when the timing is correct.

Recently I reread my copy of Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist (an AMAZING book if you’ve never read it). In hindsight, I believe that I was drawn to the novel at the perfect time last year. My Mom had recently been diagnosed with Breast Cancer, and my world felt like it was crumbling around me. Looking back, it was also around this time that my marriage was slowly unraveling, stitch by stitch.

The book offered me a renewed spiritual peace from which I was able to cope with the massive changes taking place in my life at that time. It made me feel grounded and it gave me hope for the future.

As I read back through it, the following passage caught my attention: “At that moment, it seemed to him that time stood still, and the Soul of the World surged within him …. he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke – the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. It was love. Something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. Something that exerted the same force whenever two pairs of eyes met, as had theirs here at the well. She smiled, and that was certainly an omen – the omen he had been awaiting, without even knowing he was, for all his life.”

“It was the pure Language of the World. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it than of anything in the world. He had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. But maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. Because when you know that language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it’s in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning.”

I find myself exploring this possibility because – without even being consciously aware of it – I have ascribed to this philosophy my entire life. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: I believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that everything – good or bad – just or unjust – happens for a reason.

Everything we experience in our lives – the challenges, the triumphs, the failures, the setbacks, the joy and sorrow, pain and heartache – all of these things mould and shape us into the people we are supposed to be. Following the Biblical analogy where God is the potter and we are the clay – being ever shaped into the most perfect form of ourselves at the exact moment in our lives when it is imperative.

There was a time when I thought my hopelessly romantic nature was silly. Childish. My perspective, however, has shifted. I believe in the divinity of soul mates because I believe that God’s love is limitless.

The biggest problem in my marriages has been that I have lacked God as a foundation. Ever the control freak, I wanted to be in charge of every detail rather than giving it up to God and allowing Him to take the reins. I lacked faith, instead allowing myself to be consumed by fear and uncertainty.

I am saying good-bye to fear as the guiding force in my life, and replacing it with Faith, Hope and the knowledge that, with God, nothing is impossible. 

Epiphany

Driving home from Liberty this evening - I had gone there to meet Tracey, one of the women who has expressed interest about being interviewed for my book project – I had an epiphany of sorts. Writing about it now, it seems silly that something so glaring obvious struck me like lightening even when I felt like I had thought through the variety of meanings this process would hold.

Even after careful consideration, which for me is typically tantamount to extreme over-analysis, I was headed up the Easley exit, preparing to merge onto Highway 123 en route home, and it hit me: interviewing, recording and listening to other people is going to teach me so much about myself!

It is completely fine if you are thinking “DUH … Nicole!” I’m ok with that because I thought the same thing. Of course I am going to learn something about myself, about my life, about the human condition. Talking with people and hearing their stories is no different than sifting through anthologies of American Literature: these individual stories give the listener (or reader) a new perspective to consider – a unique looking glass through which to view everyday life. Stories make us more human.

The only difference between the people with whom I’m meeting and my endless volumes of Norton Anthologies is that the people inviting me into their lives and homes are not published …. YET!

As the idea that I will experience personal growth through this process [said with an exaggerated overly twangy southern accent] slaps me upside my head  (dangerous while trying to merge onto Highway 123 I might add), it also occurred to me that coinciding with the stories I am telling – the ones that do not belong to me – I might have some stories of my own, emotional responses and reflections, or maybe even times when, dare I say it, I agree to disagree with the philosophies of any particular story teller.

And because talking with people sparks ideas and generates feelings, I might want to write about those things. But I can’t – can I? This project isn’t about me; it is about other people’s stories. Obviously I have a few tattoos that have stories behind them. Deeply personal meanings that I had planned to share, peppered in among the numerous other stories I am excited to hear and write.

One of my dearest grad school friends now part of my family, Kim, recommended I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat. Pray. Love. I purchased the book, and it sat on my book shelf for about a year before the universe drew me to all of the incredible insights captured between the covers. While I would never compare myself to Gilbert as a writer, this Soul to Skin Project upon which I have embarked is really no different than Gilbert’s trek around the world as she discovers herself. Of course I am going to grow as a human being throughout this process! Nicole, me, as a unique individual … I use writing as a way to digest my feelings and make sense out of what I have learned.

I say all this to say that, driving home from Liberty, my mind, heart and spirit were flooded with thoughts and feelings. Things I need to digest and process and write about, and I am going to allow myself the opportunity to do just that as I work on this project. I hope you, my readers, will not find it selfish that I am doing this – that I am giving myself permission to become a part of this project instead of being an outside observer who merely records and regurgitates (I don’t mean that to sound gross. I just love that word). Maybe, just maybe, some of my insights and observations will resonate with the readers out there?

I feel like a broken record in saying this, AGAIN, but I am terribly excited about this project, process and journey. Soul to Skin continues to evolve and is taking on a life all its own. I thank you all for your patience (as I learn to juggle all the responsibilities in my life that I am now doing as a single parent), your support and encouragement and excitement about the Soul to Skin Project (my baby in the making), and for making me feel like I have permission to grow and learn and evolve throughout this process.