The other morning I went for a haircut. While the barber was cutting my hair, he
and a pal of his were talking excitedly about tattoos, a topic I know nothing
about. My barber and his friend were discussing the stigma attached to having tattoos. They were saying you get put in a box, classified as odd and
possibly dangerous. Or worse. Something about it was suspicious, tattooing
images and symbols on your body, turning yourself into a walking hieroglyph.
They discussed the permanence of tattoos (they can be
removed but at great pain and cost.)
Why, I asked, would they want something on their body forever. They didn’t tattoo their faces, they replied,
and they preferred artfully executed tattoos. So the esthetic value comes into play, but in a unique way. You
become part of the artwork, and its presence and influence are constant.
The topic turned to tattoos as memorials of great moments in
our lives. My friends in the
barbershop explained that some used tattoos to celebrate their crimes and
conquests, a fact not surprising, given that there’s a dark side to everything.
What I got from overhearing the exchange between the two millennials was not
dark at all. They were clear about
this. Tattooing was about meaning,
about important experiences they wanted to remember.
My barber’s lanky friend was standing up, looking light and
energetic on his feet, when he started talking about tattoos in terms of his
soul, and kept using soul talk to explain himself. He paused and looked at me
with great earnestness, put his hands on his chest, and said, “Some things you
want to hold fast, like an anchor. Things that touch your soul, if you know
what I mean.” I knew exactly what he
meant. Our moments are not the same; there are some that stand out, some with an
aura of eternity. A tattoo was a
memory engraved on living skin, a message full of meaning, but also an arrow
pointing toward the future.
As usual, my barber cut my hair to perfection, and I left. I left with a new curiosity about the
art of tattooing. Before I left, I
mentioned that I did my own tattooing in a way by making paintings. Like tattooing, I paint my soul on
canvas, which is the ‘skin’ of my
artistic body. And, as any artist knows, it can be painful, and in a sense can “draw
blood”.
The conversation I overheard about tattooing while having my
hair cut got me thinking. The need to capture the meaning of our lives is
something that makes us human. But
there’s a problem nowadays. As
technology swamps us with endless information, the old familiar meanings are
going out of style.
God, truth, family, man, woman, duty, love, —these master
memes of meaning are riddled with issues.
Isn’t God dead?; truth, fake news?; family, in shreds?; man, a noun
writers eschew?; woman, revolting against ‘man’?; duty, oppression?; love, an
illusion? In our chaotic information age, meaning is everywhere up for
grabs. With the old highways of
meaning in ruin, we have to be inventive about finding meaning in our lives. It’s
asking a lot for us to do it on our own--without a guide, without landmarks. For many confused souls, life is
lived in a trance without meaning, a voyage in a sea of unknowns.
My barber’s lanky friend who kept pacing about in high
spirits talked about how tattooing for him was about caring for his soul. I understood what he was driving at. I thought
of Socrates on death row who said that philosophy was to care for the
soul. While awaiting his execution in prison, a goddess appeared to
him, and said: “Socrates, make music!”
Socrates thought doing philosophy was the greatest music, but the goddess
prevailed upon him. So the
philosopher made up a song he sang and danced in prison, making sure he honored
the goddess request. He was ready
for his departure to the next world.
So, my conclusion: I did well at the barber shop that
morning. Besides a good haircut
(which lightened my head), I was reminded of something easy to forget. There are many ways to care for the soul:
we can sing, dance, philosophize--and we can tattoo. The list goes on. The challenge of our times is to find a
way that works for us, a way to find meaning and a way to care for our souls.
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