At Samhain, I had a day of witching, crafting and tarot reading with my sisterhood.
Towards the end of the day we decided to find our spirit animals, to connect with and remember going forward throughout our spiritual journeys. As my hands reached into the pack of cards I knew what I wanted to pick… an enigmatic and interesting bird.
I visualised her heavy black wings, her deathly stare and more importantly my in-progress back tattoo – a creation by tattoo wizardess Jo Black (Black Moon Tattoos, Frome), which was actually a nod towards my mum’s favourite image… the raven.
The card revealed itself. I was… a seal.
I wasn’t too disheartened. Card or not, I was going to have the striking image of the raven walking around with me ’till death do us part.
Yesterday saw the fifth session on my back tattoo with Jo and the transformation is already taking my breath away every time I look at it. Jo has taken on the mammoth task of covering old, existing work on my skin and the result is already *not enough adjectives to adequately describe how I feel*.
I spend my long drive back from Somerset each month feeling obviously very reflective about this tattoo journey and how it will transform me physically and mentally. More to come on that at a later date.
I’ve learnt a lot about myself over the last few months. At the top of that list is the glaring truth that after ten years of getting tattooed, I’m not even half as tough as I thought I was physically. I love our sessions, but love to get back to vegetating in the comfort of my own home after each session.
As the full moon transforms tonight’s winter sky, I want to dance naked beneath it – my raw skin pounding and dirt beneath my claws. Yet, I’m not partaking in such affairs. I’m lounging on the couch, doing absolutely nothing, moaning about my aching limbs and being fed by my considerate boyfriend.
Perhaps I’m a seal after all.
Photo by Lewis Membery, tattoo (on me) by Miss Jo Black.