paint program on the computer, so I asked my dearest sister friend
to draw my vision out and stand with me as it was etched into my skin.
She agreed to both with delight setting about to create what I had asked, refining it until I declared it better than I had imagined.
Having more experience with these things she visited tattoo shops
with me until we found one that felt correct in handling the sacredness
of this moment for me.
We secured the date and time, then I set about with my final
The night before, I cleansed myself in a ritual bath of sea salt
and herbs freshly picked from my balcony garden.
I set up sacred space and cast a circle giving offering to Goddess
speaking to her of my intent to continue to serve her.
Afterward, I settled down into a fitful sleep, excited and apprehensive
about how my life would change...
So there we were, the incessant cacophony of the tattooing needle
rattled my entire skeleton as the artist swiftly went about his work.
As the needle came near my shoulder blades, the pain became
almost too intense to bear.
During those agonizing moments, I chanted softly and moved into a meditative state of deeper silence to allow him to finish.
Turning to look at the instruction page he gave me, I rather awkwardly tried not to rub my back against the seat and failed miserably.
"How do you feel?" she asked as the artist cleansed and bandaged my new artwork for me.
"Well," I said breaking my dazed silence, "it wasn't child birth."