Author: Elizabeth Gaucher

This I Believe: I Believe in Getting the Tattoo

/ Elizabeth Gaucher / 6 Comments

From June 2008, this is dedicated to Chris Paradise, aquatic ecologist, writing coach, fellow parent of a young child, and cherished friend.  I wrote this essay at the Lilly Seminar for Davidson College Alumni, “This I Believe: Exploring the Meaning of Life.”  Chris will forever be in my heart for his role in bringing this out of me.   It was a long time coming.  Thank you!

I believe in getting the tattoo.

In the summer of 2007 I had already wanted my tattoo for four years.  I could close my eyes and imagine it a part of me, but when I tried too hard to see it, it would slip away into the underbrush like a deer who senses your gaze.  It was a long period of meditation and patient waiting.

I needed permanent representation of bringing my heart and mind to peace with nearly ten consecutive, tumultuous years involving chronic disease, professional struggle, marital crisis, and infertility.  Enough was enough, and my soul hungered for a ritual to mark my moving forward.   When the voice of the universe whispered repeatedly the answer was a Eurasian practice of permanent decorative skin marking from Neolithic times, I was stunned.  I expected something more like a new sports car.

la Paix is French for "peace"

That summer, I planned a weekend getaway with girlfriends from Davidson College, and the time was right to push this vision toward reality.  One of my friends  was hosting the group in her hometown.  “Where’s the best place to get a tattoo?” I asked.  Without hesitation she told me, and I felt  my feet hit the first firm steps on the path to my Holy Grail.    I emailed with the shop’s owner and described the elements I wanted:  the French word for peace in a feminine script, very small and discreetly placed.  After several back and forths in writing, the next step was simply to meet in person and do the deed.

Upon my arrival, the artist showed me his design, and it literally took my breath away.  It included not only my original elements, but a dove and a stylized peace sign.  It was much larger than I expected, but I knew immediately it was mine.  With no hesitation, I said, “Let’s do it.”  Four hours of cathartic pain later, I emerged from the shop in my new skin, not so much a different person as the old reborn.

What did I experience through this mysterious process?  Contemplation, patience, individualism, connection, intimacy, trust, support, privacy, freedom, release, self-expression.  What do I carry with me every day as a result?  The same.

My tattoo is not a part of me, but one with me.  From the first moment I saw it embedded in my skin, it was not something new, but something the hot needles had scratched away skin to reveal rather than add.  I smile now when I think about my original fears, especially the fear that I may have set a bad example for my child, who is due next month.  Everyone says that tattoos should not be taken lightly, because they are forever.  I agree they should not be taken lightly, but they are most assuredly not forever.  This body had a beginning, and it has an end.  What will last longer is my story, and for her entire life my daughter will be able to say of her mother, “She got the tattoo.”

Image credit: Elizabeth Gaucher; tattoo by Robert Ashburn, Liquid Dragon Tattoo Art Studio, Asheville, North Carolina.

The Early Seeds of Self-Control

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My dad told me years ago about an article he read detailing the (alleged) one factor necessary above all others to achieve financial self-sufficiency:

The ability to postpone gratification.

It made sense to me at the time, but because I was working in a field that was rife with the multi-dimensional aspects of entrenched poverty, I knew too much to be able to take this one element seriously.  It came across as too trite and convenient to say that people were in trouble because they couldn’t say no to things they wanted.  In my experience it was layered into a problem of wants and needs colliding into a miasma of issues.  I took note of the point, but have always looked at other elements of the problem as well.

A recent article from NPR opens up the conversation for me again, and for the first time I am starting to see the simplicity of the argument as more fair than it first appeared (For Kids, Self-Control Factors Into Future Success : NPR).

It’s all in the timing.

I think I can see it more clearly now because the stage for the drama is dialed back to early childhood.  We have so much opportunity in early childhood education, both in the classroom and at home, to support a healthy generation of human beings who have the best possible chance to achieve financial independence, loving relationships, fulfilling careers, and intimate spiritual lives; yet we often don’t dig in when our chances of success are the strongest.

Why do we wait so long to invest?  Why do we wait until people are adults trapped in patterns of needy desperation and personal management crises?  There are still opportunities to change in adulthood, but the consequences of not having a handle on yourself at that point are severe.  Time out?  Um, yes.  We call it prison.

“Control” can be a dirty word to many people.  We like “freedom” much more, but are we really free if we can’t control ourselves in a positive way?  The NPR piece makes an impression because it is quite specific to developmentally appropriate times and techniques for helping kids understand something many adults never do.  People can only actually have freedom when they demonstrate they can manage themselves and their responsibilities.

I’m not much of a Tiger Mother, I don’t think.  Maybe I should look into that more.  But I am very serious about my responsibility to my child to make sure she understands she is accountable for her actions and attitude.  It’s tough when you love a child so much and all you want to do is make her life as easy as possible, knowing that it will become very difficult very soon.

But it’s going to be a lot more difficult if she doesn’t learn her role in managing her own life.  I think this afternoon we will start practicing hanging up our own coat.

Image credit: CLIMB Theatre