I recently spent a long 12 hour session getting my first tattoo. It took roughly a year marinating on the design and mentally adding and subtracting from the piece until I had a clear vision and found an artist I trusted. I was admittedly anxious going into the appointment as this was definitely new water for me to be wading into, but pretty quickly I found myself on a familiar path I often find myself on in the mountains…exploring the inner workings of my brain. This time, I was drifting off into a space of examining what it means to express yourself and how much the concept of creativity has shaped me lately.
I often describe endurance sports as a way to make art. You paint a picture in hours of movement over long miles, but the materials and plan were put together over the course of the previous months, if not years, of your life. The race, the outing, the summit or the objective…that is the finished piece, the art is the time and effort spent preparing yourself to paint. That form of expression has been immeasurably therapeutic for me. It has been an outlet for rage, frustration, fear and self doubt. It has been a way to celebrate and rejoice, to demonstrate strength and ability. It has been a refuge from the storms of life as well as a peaceful oasis during calmer seas.
As I watched my tattoo artist Kai work, 12 hours entirely focused on the tiniest of details being put into my arm, I recognized her art was something similar. The end result of our session would be the finished product, but her art was her obviously extensive career in doing this. It was taking only three short breaks over the course of the 12 hours, the unwavering attention to detail, the methodical work being done on her pallet. Her art was her journey to this point, I was merely going to be an expression of it the same way a map or a mountain is a place for me to express mine.
For a long while I allowed movement to be my sole form of expression. Lately, that began to feel shallow. I wanted to feel deeper connections to my feelings and communicate them differently. I reevaluated what it meant to creatively exist as myself and how to demonstrate and express my experience of life to others, because I think that is important for us all to do.
How can we understand each other if we can’t see into each other?
I first found writing, here, on Substack. I discovered that putting my internal dialogue into written word felt rewarding, felt soothing and I quickly realized, from the reader feedback, that I shared far more thoughts and experiences with others than I ever realized. It made me feel connected. It made me feel understood. It made me feel less alone.
I wanted more.
I circled back to the idea of expression through action. I’ve said the words, now can I live them? And not just most of the time, but every second of every day? I think the world is filled with far too much hypocrisy when it comes down to what we say vs what we do and I refuse to be part of that. I want my lived, visible existence to align with the internal experience I have of being me. I want the life I live to reflect the ideas and beliefs I write on paper.
I think we spend too much time saying what we do and not enough time doing what we say. In speaking who I want to be into the universe, I hold myself accountable to my own words. I set a standard I must reach each day…
As a husband
As a coach
As an athlete
As a human
Are you who you say you are? I wasn’t always, but I am now.
As I watched the ink bleed into my skin, the idea of permanence really struck out to me. I watched the initials of my siblings and parents etch into my skin. I watched my wife’s EKG heart beat reading become part of my flesh. I watched the words and symbols I had determined were the foundation of who I am become engraved into me for the world to see. This art was a new version of expression and of accountability. I can never pretend to ignore the most critical and baseline components of my life because they are now on display on my body. I am, myself, now a constant reminder of who I am, who I want to be and how I want to live.
I’ve learned art is not easy. It shouldn’t be. Just as living up to high standards is not easy. It takes time…maybe years…maybe more. It takes dedication and practice and is never a low hanging fruit. It takes thought and introspection. It takes a willingness to examine yourself deep enough to express yourself. The easy way always sucks when you zoom out.
I don’t believe I am done finding ways to express myself, I don’t think I ever will be, because how could I…and how could you? We’re all so much deeper than we give ourselves credit for and life feels a little different when you poke and prod below the surface. I am thankful for my experience under the needle, not only for the direct perspective it allowed for, but for the reminder that there will always exist new ways to explore who and what I am.
Dig in, see what’s there, then express it.
Onward, Always.