A little more than a year ago, I sat in the auditorium of International School of Bangkok, watching students perform an homage to King Bhumibol’s 60th Anniversary. At one point in the slideshow, a simple line drawing of an elephant, the national animal of Thailand, flashed across the screen, and I felt a shot of recognition. Soon after my arrival to the states, longing to return to the land of Siam, I began searching for the symbol of my longing, a simple ink drawing of the elephant. Once discovered, I placed my revered drawing away in a safe place with the understanding that I would make that a permanent part of my own skin—a physical representation of the internal mark I carried on my heart.
Money was always the problem, and I didn’t feel comfortable with any of the artists I spoke to about my design. When the time, money and opportunity converged yesterday, I took a deep breath and went for it.
Preparing for my 8pm appointment felt like preparing myself for marriage. This is a very permanent reminder of the most beautiful place in my life, of who I became as a result, and now, an unmovable declaration of where I am going.
Three and a half hours of work later, early into Sunday morning, the first session was over. Tired, cramped and pissed off at the pain, I was nonetheless ecstatic at the results. At one point in the session, I began to experience a deep sadness connected to the pain I felt: it was a familiar sadness that has gripped my heart often since childhood, at times threatening to crumble me like sand. As an adult, I have learned to breathe and pray through it, quickly and efficiently neutralizing the terror. Today, I still feel it. A loss, a longing, a relief, I don’t know what it symbolizes this time, but I feel it.
It seems that every line drawn on my back has sewn me tighter to a destiny I stumbled upon and cannot shake. It keeps me restless, and it keeps me moving. It compels me forward and I don’t know why. I am glad it’s there.