Guardians
in my life, as in the lives of all humans, i have had two very distinct experiences of humanity.
The one extreme is destruction, hatred, evil, deception, cowardice, sickness... and all the qualities that we fear and run from within ourselves and our peers. This extreme, Stephen King's force of anti-creativity, has reflected at me from the eyes of several influential people in my life. I have seen those eyes glimmer with hatred, wanton destruction, sick misplaced lust, and thirst for the warmth of the blood pumping within my veins; as if being sated of any of those thirsts might give them a moment of peace, a space of quiet from the maddening voices within.
The other extreme is usually cold, but firm. It is the power of creativity, kindness, protection, and hope.
This power beats in every gentle heartbeat from the world around us, and radiates from the countenance of those teachers and instructors who believe in teaching us to believe in ourselves. They practice the art of building humans (often one at a time) so that instead of leaving a wake of destruction they are followed by waves of constructive hope.
They are rare, and make all the difference between realization and dissolution of self for those they teach.
And so, in honor of those forces of creation, the Guardians of the soul, my body is a canvas for their portraits. Not photographic images, per se, but psychological interpretations of their personalities and methods, captured in my skin by needle and ink. As long as I live, their images will live and be celebrated. And when I die, I take to the grave with me a record of those who bettered my life while my heart still beat within my chest.
in my life, as in the lives of all humans, i have had two very distinct experiences of humanity.
The one extreme is destruction, hatred, evil, deception, cowardice, sickness... and all the qualities that we fear and run from within ourselves and our peers. This extreme, Stephen King's force of anti-creativity, has reflected at me from the eyes of several influential people in my life. I have seen those eyes glimmer with hatred, wanton destruction, sick misplaced lust, and thirst for the warmth of the blood pumping within my veins; as if being sated of any of those thirsts might give them a moment of peace, a space of quiet from the maddening voices within.
The other extreme is usually cold, but firm. It is the power of creativity, kindness, protection, and hope.
This power beats in every gentle heartbeat from the world around us, and radiates from the countenance of those teachers and instructors who believe in teaching us to believe in ourselves. They practice the art of building humans (often one at a time) so that instead of leaving a wake of destruction they are followed by waves of constructive hope.
They are rare, and make all the difference between realization and dissolution of self for those they teach.
And so, in honor of those forces of creation, the Guardians of the soul, my body is a canvas for their portraits. Not photographic images, per se, but psychological interpretations of their personalities and methods, captured in my skin by needle and ink. As long as I live, their images will live and be celebrated. And when I die, I take to the grave with me a record of those who bettered my life while my heart still beat within my chest.
hambonesweets:
My ink is not so philosophical as all that. Most were done because I thought the artwork to be pretty.
ganonymousg:
No comment other than I wish I was on the same page as you right now... 