We All Have Our Tattoos
I have a tattoo on my right shoulder. It's up pretty high on the outside of my arm where you can't see it even when I'm wearing a short sleeved T-shirt. It's a red heart supported by wings. It wraps about half way around my upper arm. Written inside the heart is the name of my beautiful once in a lifetime dream wife.
A discussion about tattoos will usually bring out a variety of opinions depending on who's listening. It is not my intention now to haggle all the pros and cons of tattoos or to impose any moral or religious judgements about someone who has one. I may get into that down the road (if I don't become just an ink stain on the highway).
When I say "tattoo" you immediately know what I'm talking about. You instantly form a picture in you mind. The same thing happens when you see someone who has one. Our notions about things like that are often quick to surface. Just a casual mention or a picture conjures up all kind of thoughts.
Like the one on my arm, some tattoos are hidden most of the time. Only a few folks have ever seen mine. If I hadn't told you about it you wouldn't have known it was there. You wouldn't have thought about me differently one way or the other. At least not based on the tattoo. But now that you do know, you may already be starting to form an opinion of me. That's okay. Depending on your view you may think it's cool or that I'm a fool (or worse).
What I want to suggest is that there are some things about us; whether we know it or not, whether we want to admit it or not, that are as visible a mark of who we are as if it were inked on our foreheads. Spend time around someone. Notice who they are. Get a feel for their presence. Listen to what they say. Pay attention to the details.
Surprising how many things are visibly inked on us that we don't realize. So many things about us that we show off every day to countless people in countless ways without ever taking the time to look in the mirror. One of the things you and me could to do a much better job of is being more aware and able to spot our own tattoos. The ones other people so clearly see without us ever having to roll up our sleeves.
You see, we all have our tattoos.
A discussion about tattoos will usually bring out a variety of opinions depending on who's listening. It is not my intention now to haggle all the pros and cons of tattoos or to impose any moral or religious judgements about someone who has one. I may get into that down the road (if I don't become just an ink stain on the highway).
When I say "tattoo" you immediately know what I'm talking about. You instantly form a picture in you mind. The same thing happens when you see someone who has one. Our notions about things like that are often quick to surface. Just a casual mention or a picture conjures up all kind of thoughts.
Like the one on my arm, some tattoos are hidden most of the time. Only a few folks have ever seen mine. If I hadn't told you about it you wouldn't have known it was there. You wouldn't have thought about me differently one way or the other. At least not based on the tattoo. But now that you do know, you may already be starting to form an opinion of me. That's okay. Depending on your view you may think it's cool or that I'm a fool (or worse).
What I want to suggest is that there are some things about us; whether we know it or not, whether we want to admit it or not, that are as visible a mark of who we are as if it were inked on our foreheads. Spend time around someone. Notice who they are. Get a feel for their presence. Listen to what they say. Pay attention to the details.
Surprising how many things are visibly inked on us that we don't realize. So many things about us that we show off every day to countless people in countless ways without ever taking the time to look in the mirror. One of the things you and me could to do a much better job of is being more aware and able to spot our own tattoos. The ones other people so clearly see without us ever having to roll up our sleeves.
You see, we all have our tattoos.
I've never had a tattoo (except this ink spill I've had on my chest ever since I was a kid), but my brother has ever since he was sixteen.
ReplyDeleteAnd my mom was mad...
Hey, Hobo Bob, what was your brother's tattoo of?
ReplyDelete