Had I died at that time, perhaps of acute boredom let us say, in the school cafeteria, eating peas, it would have been agreed, by all who knew me that my epitaph should read, 'She did as she was told.' Or blander yet, 'she did as she supposed she might be told.'
I'd contemplated it for a number of years. I'm fascinated by it. It wasn't unusual for me to ask for closer examination of a person's body art. I love tattoos. I became enaomored of them while in performance of what is probably my favorite role to have ever played - "Marks" from Jane Martin's Talking With.
The role was of a woman who, after 15 years of marriage and two children, was abandoned by her husband. He tells her she is unmarked by life. Through the filtered haze of a half-full (or is it half-empty?) wine glass she reveals her metamorphosis from the beige cocoon of her life before to the colorful, but marred, creature she is now. It began with an encounter in a parking lot of a singles bar that left the first of many marks to come - a scar across her cheek.
She embraces the scar, adding to it tattoos which mark each step into living a life defined not by the conventions of her mundane past, but by an agonizing, if not dangerous, lust for feeling alive.
I admire this woman while at the same time am fearful of her - perhaps because I identify with her at a level I'd rather pretend isn't there than have to face. Truth hurts.
It's been years since performing the role, but she has stayed with me and this last weekend I paid homage to her with a mark of my own.
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Five visits to Vegas. Five treks to be among a wildly diverse group of irresistable individuals. Five trips that, with each one, I enter into a period of deep reflection upon return.
I'm not one to believe in "destiny" or at least not the kind that dictates some predetermined path for each of us. However, I can't help but wonder why, at this stage in my life, a door was opened to an experience I never could have predicted. Why these people? Why now?
"Character is destiny" is the loose translation of the konji in my tattoo. Who you are determines the path you take.
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I can chide Mr. Craig for feeling more like the avuncular tag-along than an intiate, but at the same time - I do understand why he feels that way. That notwithstanding, I'd caution him to not be so harsh in his judgement. This mass of individuals has gone out of its way to make me feel welcome, and yes there are times I feel I'm more a novelty than what otherwise may be true, but I accept it. I've got 15 to 20 years of life experience on most of these folks - the differences can't be helped or overlooked.
But, that said, I'd wager they have had more to teach me than the other way around - not the least of which is to embrace life and live it... to hold tight to your friends and loved ones - for who else will be there to hold you when you stumble - both literally and figuratively (!)... to tell those for whom you care just how much they mean to you...
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Gracie accompanied me to the tattoo parlor Friday morning. She didn't have to do that. She wanted to. I know if I'd pressed her, she would have stayed and missed the brunch. But I couldn't let that happen. I knew she wanted to be there and was torn. I sent her on her way.
It wasn't until she departed for the Wynn that I realized how appropriate it was for me to get my mark solo. That is my role. You see, it was a rite of passage of sorts and only I knew what it meant. I watched the artist as he deftly inked my design into my ankle. As my dragonfly took shape and the konji was etched into my skin, I reclaimed a piece of who I once was or, at least, wanted to be. My dragonfly - a symbol of the fearsome that need not be feared - will forever be there to remind me I'm here to live my life and not let it live me, trite as that sounds.
I'm not any closer to having any answers as to "why" - right now I can only reflect. I do know I'm damn glad I mustered the courage to hop on a plane two years ago. I'm damn glad for the handful of friends I just want to hold close and not let go. I'm damn glad that what I found in the midst of a crazy oasis in the desert helped me to value even more what I have here at home.
I'm just... damned glad.
May I advise you? Please. Let them mark you. Because, you see, the best among us have had so many imprints left upon them that it is like... embroidery. And these people, life-engraved, are drawn to each other and pass the time interpreting their signs. And those moments of sharing are the best of life. And this unraveling of heiroglyphs, personally, I call it love, lasts only so long as there are marks to read. Then it is gone.
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Blockquotes: Marks, Talking With by Jane Martin
