The first tattoo I ever got was in Goa, India. I was eighteen, it was the first of many solo trips I would take in my life and I felt so incredibly vital, after such a rough year, that I wanted to commemorate the occasion. So I got a lotus flower with the word जीना underneath it. Which the tattoo artist assured me means ‘live’ in Hindi. Questionable decision aside, a friend I met travelling got one with me, too. But she specified the type of life she wants and got खुशी से जियो, which translates as ‘live in happiness’.
She was about five years older, wiser? but she questioned my choice to just have ‘live’ rather than wanting the happiness as a default.
And I had difficulty articulating my thoughts, and maybe I hadn’t tasted enough sorrow, but I just said, ‘I want to feel it all.’
At thirty-one, I think I get what I was trying to say, how the fledgling seeds of my life philosophy were germinating. And what I understood instinctually then.
We can’t run from sorrow nor pain.
No talisman, meditation, exercise routine, tattoo, cheerful disposition or blind hope is going ward off difficult times in your life. We can hope that the shit bits will pass us by, but it’s inevitable. And for me, all I could hope for at that point was the ability to feel life fully, in all its complexities.
By eighteen, there were tonnes of traumatic memories that I hadn’t even reckoned with yet, that I’d avoided (and that caught up with me by the time I turned twenty-five, God help me). Which on some subconscious level, I knew wouldn’t help me long-term – unprocessed trauma can come out as anxiety.
And that trapping of the pain, keeping it crystallised in the caves of your mind rather than in the light—it can feel like safety; like protection.
But I don’t wish a safe life for you, babe.
I remember on that trip, we were staying in a small village, volunteering. (Read: voluntourism, but it was thirteen years ago and I didn’t know of such things back then.) The highlight of the week there was going to the main street, about a twenty-minute walk through the hills away, to use the internet cafe.
I went alone once. A stranger, a woman, approached me on the main road. She didn’t speak English, I didn’t speak the local dialect, but her eyes were full of kindness and I knew she meant me no harm, she was merely curious about a foreigner in her town. I followed her gestures and we went to sit in her lovely sitting room. It had plastic-covered sofas, like my grandparents’ back in Ghana. And framed photos along the floor, like them too.
She poured me tea from a ceramic pot, and we drank together, and we looked at the photos, and we smiled at each other in silence. And maybe I should have been more alert to stranger danger, kept myself from ‘risky’ experiences because I should keep myself safe. But no, I learned something that stayed with me that day – that kindness speaks a universal language and it flows to you if you let it.
So, I don’t wish a safe life for you, babe.
I think with this tattoo, and the life philosophy, I was hoping that I could be present and awake to work through all of life; the good and the bad. I knew that bad things could happen, some capable of being transmuted into goodness, powerful transformation, and others, not. But I wanted to live through everything that occurred, sit with the pain as much as I could, work out which can transform into joy.
That’s why I create.
(I just stood up and danced whilst writing this because the feeling of getting out those truest, deepest feelings is so good.)
I want to live a full, human life. That’s not to say I don’t want to be happy, or that I’m wishing badness my way, God forbid. It’s just that when bad things happen, the easiest option is to lie down, take it, and let the next part of your life go – without your control. Let it happen, without a fight.
In fact, the older I get, the more I understand my friend’s desire to focus on living in happiness, and I’m sure there are even more layers to unpeel in that, like maintaining your happiness even in the bad times.
But more often that desire makes me think of toxic positivity, facing real life with half-truths. Or of smallness, choosing options in life that feel safe and capable of fitting in the transparency of a glass half-full; it also retains a touch of arrogance: which human gets to escape pain?
If I focus on practical (not creative) goals, I’ll end up wealthy and thus, happier.
If I stay in the town I grew up in, which I know I’ve grown out of, maybe I’ll get to keep my family and friends healthy and close to me forever.
If I don’t allow myself to want something, it’ll hurt less if I don’t get it.
These are all versions of lies I’ve told myself and so badly want(ed) to be true.
And it often feels like people around us, people who have done the same – living a life they’ve passively accepted – these people want to see you do the same. Join them in their safe, placid ranks.
We’ve ultimately got to make choices that truly reflect how we want to spend this time, because safety does not equal security nor happiness.
I recognise that these days, we fetishise a full-time creative career more than ever, because it can feel like freedom, and I know it’s not for everyone.
But I also know that there’s some choice you’ve wanted to make, or an area you’ve wanted to explore, that you’ve shut down in pursuit of security. I’m not asking you to uproot your life – like I would. I’m only asking you to dip your toe, maybe you take that dance class or maybe you ask for a break from that relationship that has stopped feeling good, to see how you truly feel.
If you need a sign to be a little unhinged, consider this it. Because I don’t wish a safe life for you, babe.
Please share a comment of something you need to do that you’ve been putting off, or share this with someone who needs to do the thing.
On my shopping list this week.
What I created:
I made this top. I had an idea, drew it, drafted it, adjusted it, and wore it out. I couldn’t believe it turned out how I envisioned when I’ve only been sewing for a few months, I’m actually living my dream:
What I consumed:
I don’t think I watched anything noteworthy this week at all. Sorry. BUT I did listen to the new Tyler The Creator album and I’ve been talking about it to everyone I know. It makes you move (see Sticky), but then it also has a lot of introspection and rawness. I’m not even a music head like that per se, but I could see his maturity and how it’s affected his musical development from his previous albums to now, it’s exciting to watch, and it gave me a sense that he’s still maintaining his artistic autonomy despite the fame and adoration. Which I think is a mammoth task for a popular creative.
What I read:
I finished Piranesi, I actually liked it a lot. It’s one of my 5* reads of the year; it’s creative and unique, it doesn’t go where you expect it to but that doesn’t make it disappointing. It didn’t make me emotional, which is usually my marker for book success, but I thoroughly enjoyed its strange, labyrinthine mystery. If you’re a fan of strange mysteries, the potential of worlds that exist parallel to ours, and the show The OA, then you’ll love my novels. But read this until they come out :-P
I want to travel solo but I’m scared 😭