A Tattoo: A Tale

Since getting my new tattoo (the picture will have to wait, since I seem to have the stupidest computer in the world) one week ago today, certain friends (Shari!) have requested I tell the tale behind it all. Some have also requested that I relay my mother's reaction (Paul!); however, I am still holding out the hope that if I play my cards right she may never find out at all.

Nevertheless, the tale deserves to be told. So, my dear Readers, gather around the campfire, build your s'mores in wee sticky fistfulls, and prepare to be entranced by not one but three tales; for the tale of my tattoo is a tale within a tale within a tale....

The Scar
First, I will take you back in time to the year 1994, the year of my first major car accident. We--that is, my former husband, my son, and I--were living in Hollister at the time. Hollister, as you may already know, is a little town way the hell away from everyplace else. This meant I spent a lot of time bundling up my 2-year-old into his car seat and racing back and forth along Highway 25 in my little Chevy Sprint. Honestly, I was up and down that road so many times I came to believe that I would meet myself coming or going along that route. Who knows? Maybe that's exactly what happened.

Here is what happened: On one of these many trips, I happened to look in my rearview mirror to check on my son, as I often did, and I discovered he had fallen asleep with a McDonald's milkshake in his hands. If that falls, that's going to make a really big mess, I thought to myself, little knowing how devastatingly ironic those words were about to turn. So I did what they tell you in driver's training courses never to do (here is the cautionary part of the tale): I reached into the back seat to obtain said milkshake. In the process, I drove off the road, then overcorrected back onto the road, and flipped my car. It flipped and flipped and flipped. I lost count. Eventually, it ended up on the driver's side, skidding down the highway.

Funny thing, car accidents. I mean, it really is like they say: time slows down or your brain speeds up or maybe both. Your mind has time to think of all sorts of things. So there I was, sliding sideways down the highway, and I was thinking about a story my dad had told me about when he was in a car accident when he was young, thrown from the driver's seat (pre-seatbelt days) and had only managed to save himself by grabbing onto the steering wheel and pulling himself back in. So, I'm thinking to myself, in the thoughts that I think, Okay. Are all my arms and legs inside the car? And it was then I noticed that my shoulder was dragging along the highway right outside my window. There wasn't any pain--shock or adrenaline was preventing that--only a kind of hyper-awareness which made me go, Hmm. That's not good. Better move that. And I did.

The rest, as they say, is history. Once I slid to a stop, some kind motorists helped me and my son out of the wreckage and waited with me until the ambulance came.

My son, safe in his car seat, didn't have a scratch.

I received twenty-two stitches in my left shoulder.

I was washing glass and strawberry milkshake out of my hair for three days.

My car was totaled beyond repair.

My scar is a physical reminder of this. It reminds me that this was a single car accident on a dangerous two-lane highway: The accident could very easily have involved one or more other vehicles. If it had, especially if it had been one of those big rigs that are often out there on 25, I may not have survived at all.

My scar also reminds me that when my husband learned of the accident, he only asked after his son. He asked nothing of me. His response, I'm told, was something to the effect of "Only my son matters." Yeah. Nice guy, my ex.

I am not a superstitious person, but I do enjoy dramatic gestures, especially if they are loaded with symbolic or poetic meaning. Since that time I have fancied the notion that, if I were to get a tattoo, it would be on that shoulder, and it would have to form some kind of circle to encircle that scar. I liked the idea of separating that space from the rest of my body, both isolating my brush with death and warding against future disasters. But for a long time, that's all it remained: an idea. Until....

The Ouroborus
For many years I've joked that I could never get a tattoo simply because I could never make up my mind what design to choose. I toyed briefly with the idea of a mermaid, because I love mermaids, but it just didn't feel right. There are other less specific designs I've seen on other people that I thought were really lovely--trailing ivy, tribal patterns, etc.--but those didn't carry the symbolic weight I was looking for either.

One day I was watching an episode of Red Dwarf (yes, I'm a fan) and the storyline centered on playing with the word "ouroborus." The word tugged at my memory. When I looked it up online, I discovered that this symbol--the serpent swallowing its tail--has been floating around in books and media I've been reading and watching for years. It's been on the X-Files and The Neverending Story and in numerous myths and legends.

One of my favorite stories involves a young man who is captured by a witch and made her servant. In the way of such tales, he is forbidden to eat the food hidden under a covered dish. One day while he is cleaning, he can't resist the urge to peek under the lid. He finds a baked serpent with its tail in its mouth. He decides to take a little pinch off of the tail. When he eats it, he discovers he can now understand the language of birds and overhears them talking of the witch's plans to kill him. He is then able to make his escape and earn his fortune with his new-found abilities.

The Ouroborus, depending on which story you read, can be a symbol for immortality, wisdom, and energy renewed, among other things. And it's a circle.

The Ormurin Langi
Now those of you who know me well are probably wondering why I didn't go for something a little more commonly recognizable, say, from The Lord of the Rings. Certainly, the ring is a circle. And the words that formed on the ring are often rendered in a circle. And certainly I am a fan of all things Tolkien. But. Think on this. Those words are a curse. Maybe I am superstitious, but I just don't fancy permanently inscribing a curse in the language of a malevolent entity into my skin. Not good karma. Or at least not good feng shui.

Plus, with the popularity of the movies, anything Tolkien has become... well... trendy, for lack of a better word. And I tend to shy away from following trends. What I wanted was something that captured the essence of Tolkien's poetry, that invoked a similar mythic power....

Copenhagen, 2007. Enter the boys from Faroe.

On my last night in Copenhagen, while finishing up an adventure in 2007, the summer I turned 40, I met these boys from the Faroe Islands. I call them boys, but, you know, they were in their early 20's. Anyway, I was coming back from a rather sedate night out with the girls, and there they were, sitting on the stoop outside the hostel. They asked where we were from, and we said America. And I asked where they were from, and they said Faroe. That stopped me in my tracks. I have always held a fascination for those little northern islands, and now here was my chance to learn about them first hand! The girls I was with didn't seem to find this nearly as exciting as I did, so they went on in. Nevermind them; I got to be entertained by half a dozen beautiful, beautiful boys as they told me all about their island home. And in the course of conversation, The Ormurin Langi came up.

The Ormurin Langi is a ballad of some 85+ verses that is sung while dancing in a circle. The ballad was written circa 1830, but it's based on an historical event that is far older. In the year 1000, Norwegian king Olaf Trygvason battled with the Swedish and Danish kings off the island of Svolder. When it became clear that he had lost the battle, he and his remaining men leapt overboard. Their ship was named the Ormurin Langi, the Long Serpent.

Copenhagen, 2:00am. Upon request, the boys from Faroe jumped up and formed a ring and danced and sang (in part) the Ormurin Langi for me. It's one of my best memories.

The Design
I can't tell you when all of this came together. I don't remember if I thought of the ouroborus first and the Ormurin Langi second, or vice versa. It just sort of came together in my head one day, the way such creative notions do.

I didn't like any of the ouroborus designs I found online, so I made up my own. I wanted something that looked like it had been lost at sea for 1000 years. I found a picture of a dragon masthead from a ship from the time of Beowulf, which is about right, give or take a couple hundred years.

The verses I have taken from The Ormurin Langi are from the chorus:

Glymur dansur í høll, dans sláði í ring
Glaðir ríða noregis menn til hildarting

Translation:
Glad sounds of song fill the hall as we dance and sing
Gladly ride the Northern men til Hildar rings (a famous bell)

Sufficiently joyous, I think. No curses here.

The Experience
I wanted to go someplace local, support local artists and all that. I checked online and El Toro Body Shop had the most impressive reviews. When I stepped inside, I felt right at home: The decor was made up of all manner of dragons and masks from around the world. The artist, Marty, did a brilliant job realizing my vision, piecing together my request from little more than my verbal description and the photo of the masthead. He was easy-going and friendly, and very accommodating when it came to scheduling my appointment. We had a great time talking about traveling: He lived in Norway and Holland for awhile and had all kinds of stories to share. I never even noticed the time passing.

I have always heard that getting a tattoo is painful, so I was expecting it to hurt. Nevertheless, I went into it with the devil-may-care attitude of, Hell, I've been through childbirth--I can handle anything! hahaha And you know, it wasn't that bad. I don't think it ever went past a medium level discomfort, if that. In fact, the experience was so pleasant overall that I might even consider doing it again....

And Now....
When I look at my shoulder now, I don't think about a car accident that nearly took my life, or an ex-husband who never truly understood or loved me. Instead, I think about a Norwegian King who would rather jump overboard than surrender. That's very me. Failure is just not an option. I must be the Captain of my ship; I will succeed because I must. And if I do not, then I'm going down with the ship.

But then I have the ouroborus to remind me that there is power in renewal, that there is a coming back from our lowest most destructive levels of existence. If I do fail, I will return and build again. This gives me hope.

And finally, I am reminded of those fair-haired, stormy-eyed boys from Faroe, who on a whim danced and sang for a stranger one Midsummer's night and stole my heart forever.

I've told my son that if he wants a tattoo, he'd better wait until he's 40 so that if he makes a mistake, he'll only have half his life to regret it. ;-)

But I do not regret it. No. Not one little bit.

Welcome, President Obama!

On Tuesday morning, I joined a few friends and colleagues at Flames, a restaurant near SJSU, to watch the inaugural address. We drank mimosas and toasted the arrival of our new president. I thought his address was well-crafted, despite commentary from Fox (which was the bar's choice for news coverage, not ours). My impressions were varied, but overall positive. It feels good to be an American again.


* * * * *


Text of President Barack Obama's inaugural address on Tuesday, as delivered.

OBAMA: My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because we the people have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebears, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land — a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America — they will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted — for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things — some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sanh.

Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions — that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act — not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. All this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions — who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them — that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works — whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. Those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account — to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day — because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control — and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart — not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our founding fathers ... our found fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all the other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort — even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus — and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West — know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to the suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment — a moment that will define a generation — it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends — hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence — the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed — why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent Mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive...that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet (it)."

America, in the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

Thank you. God bless you. And God bless the United States of America.

Lost In the Cemetery of Forgotten Books

The trouble with not writing in my blog for ages and ages is finding just the right tone and topic to come back in on. Do I write about what I did over the holidays? Do I rant about the economy or my ex-husband? Do I wax nostalgic over 2008 and make pithy predictions for 2009?

No, no, and no.

Instead, I am going to do you a favor and tell you about a wonderful book. It is the best book I've read in a long time, and quite possibly the best book I've read in my entire life.

No, really.

It has everything a book should have: earnest heroes, terrifying villains, mysterious figures of uncertain origin, damsels in distress, femme fatales, haunted mansions, and family secrets all told in exquisite, lustrous prose. Oh, and books. For it is a book about books. And the people who write them. And the people who read them and love them.

It's the kind of book you want to read slowly so you can savor every word. It's the kind of book you want to read quickly because you can't wait to see what is on the next page. It's the kind of book that you never want to end, but you can't wait to finish so you can read it all over again.

But why am I telling you all this? Read it for yourself:

"Welcome to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, Daniel."

[...]

My father knelt next to me and, with his eyes fixed on mine, addressed me in the hushed voice he reserved for promises and secrets.

"This is a place of mystery, Daniel, a sanctuary. Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. I will tell you what my father told me, though. When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader's hands. In the shop we buy and sell them, but in truth books have no owner. Every book you see here has been somebody's best friend. Now they have only us, Daniel. Do you think you'll be able to keep such a secret?"

My gaze was lost in the immensity of the place and its sorcery of light. I nodded, and my father smiled.

"And do you know the best thing about it?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"According to tradition, the first time someone visits this place, he must choose a book, whichever he wants, and adopt it, making sure that it will never disappear, that it will always stay alive. It's a very important promise. For life," explained my father. "Today it's your turn."

The Shadow of the Wind

by Carlos Ruiz Zafon