Lotus 蓮

蓮は泥より出でて泥に染まらず。

(The lotus comes from the murkiest water but grows into the purest thing.)

I got my first tattoo a week ago, on Thursday, July 2, 2015.

The lotus flower has many different meanings, but it doesn’t matter whether it’s a symbol in Hinduism or Buddhism, whether it is white, pink or blue. The life cycle of the lotus is a metaphor.

The lotus is born at the muddy bottom of a pond, pushes through the mud, emerges out of the water surface, and blooms, quietly but with pride.

I used to think that to achieve anything of significance, there’s nothing but suffering and hurdles to bear and overcome. But since last year, I began to think differently. We go through rough times and fucked up things, sure, but they make us stronger and they shape us into who we are. The unstained petals of the lotus flower are not possible if not nurtured by the mud and murky water at its stems.

As I said, this was my first tattoo. And I must say, I enjoyed my experience and can see myself getting more already.

I enjoyed the tiny electrifying jolts of pain. Perhaps a part of me wanted a little more. Perhaps I didn’t want the tattoo artist to stop.

I liked it.

The pain and everything else that came with it demanded my attention and surrender. It was sublime. Almost sacred.

It made me feel alive.

Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I’m just crazy.

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Sorry for all this rambling. And please don’t take my words seriously. You should always read my blog as if you came across a stranger’s diary one day and glanced over just because you were curious.