I’ve always wanted a tattoo. Correction, I’ve always wanted to want, to have a tattoo. Let me explain, just in case that sounded a bit weird.
Being Christian, Catholic to be more precise, the whole notion of tattoos is a very muddy topic. Many Christians will reference scripture in opposition to tattoos. I’m not about to try and do the same but, loosely quoting from some phrases that lead to the argument against, well your body is a temple of god and you ought to keep it clean. Especially from tattoos. If you grew up in a Christian community, then you already know of the stigma that surrounds the topic.
They have been labelled demonic and so many other ‘bad’ things, but so too were Pokemon tazos. And then on the flip side you have Catholic priests with tattoos and I’m like, hold up! Are you serving two masters now Father? Have you not damned your soul by doing this? But then the tattoo is of Christ, our redeemer on the cross, so surely this must be right. How then can wrong be right? What is right?
And that ladies and gentlespoons, is the great dilemma I must live with. I cannot want a tattoo without feeling like I’m betraying the faith, because the faith is a part of my identity. I was raised in it and choose to live by it as much as possible. Many other aspects of my identity also come into play as well and, one of them is okay with a tattoo. Again I will hang my moral code high close to the priests/religious individuals who have tattoos. Surely if God is okay with his representatives on earth getting tattoos, then maybe he might forgive me too and love the one I get.
The tattoo I would get, has to have meaning, so as to be spared from the fiery pits. And that is the major goal, finding a design or better yet, a good enough reason to get a tattoo. Maybe add a tattoo on my ring finger to celebrate the union, but society has made me ever more weary of such a commitment (for further reference, see ‘indoda must’ and ‘DNA’ related stories and viewpoints).
That brings us to the ‘Purple Heart.’ If you’re a fan of jelly babies then you’ll know that the purple ones are the bomb diggidy, but that’s not why I’m fond of purple, nor is it my favourite colour. Wait, do people still have favourite colours or that’s just a topic for puppy-love? I don’t have a favourite colour, life’s too short to limit myself to adoring one colour.
That being said, I’ve grown attached to the colour purple and it has replaced the colour red in hearts for me. Red hearts are the global symbol for love, but purple just carries more of my spirit with it. Looking at the colour psychology scale, purple symbolises royalty, grandeur, wisdom, independence, devotion, pride and creativity. And aren’t these some of the values love is rooted in?
Most importantly for me, the colour purple symbolises healing. I get this from the Purple Heart Medal that is awarded to servicemen/women in the US Army who get wounded in battle. According to Wikipedia (my lecturers would kill me for this), it was first awarded on February 22, 1932. There is more history behind it but, that’s a story for another day. Sacrificing oneself for country and countryfolk is an honour, that is what any army leader would teach their new recruits. And it is only right that your country honours this with the Purple Heart. I’m sure such an honour goes a long way in their healing process.
I have not been to war, nor am I a solider, but I do believe as a human I have fought and will continue to fight a lot of battles. Some I will win and some I will lose. The purple heart therefore is a symbol of healing from all these battles. Losing a loved one, losing in the game of love, having a dream fail and so much more. Healing and fighting on. A gesture similar to the ‘Semi-colon’ tattoo.
Therefore my Purple Heart tattoo (if I can find a spot light enough on my body for this to be detailed ever so clearly), will have a few stitches on it and maybe a band-aid, to represent the blows it has taken and subsequently healed from. And as an extra touch, veins running from the heart into my body. I think it should be placed on my upper arm, so I can wear my heart on my sleeve.
We heal and we keep moving.
Photocred: The Google search algorithm just seems to know what I need.