(Originally written on May 11th, 2011.) Last year I was challenged by a local priestess with whom I was counseling to design a
yantra that would symbolize my divine self. I didn't think that I was already familiar with the concept of yantras until I looked them up and realized that I'd seen the patterns before in new age shops without bothering to find out what they were other than pretty. I even picked up
a book on the subject and was suitably daunted by the task given how much study it takes to create one of these patterns for a relatively known deity. That, and I can draw sticks. Sorta. They're somewhat stick-like, anyway. So, I played around with the concept a bit, brought her a doodle I'd been drawing since 1997 and recently realized was my sigil. Her response was that it'd be fine to incorporate it into a yantra, but she wanted it to look more like her tattoo of her own symbol, and thus have more of a geometric shape to it. I figured that there was something I wasn't getting, so I asked a fairly knowledgable friend for information. Said friend offered to make the yantra for me, but that really didn't fly with the priestess so I went back to my drawing pad. Throwing up both hands and giving in turned out to be the break I needed, because I stopped thinking in terms of having to create a geometric pattern that somehow resonated with me and started thinking about other symbols. An element that occurred to me was one that I was thinking of getting as my next tattoo: an
ouroboros. I toyed with both symbols a bit, wasn't inspired and then realized that the one ouroboros I wanted was the one from the TV show
Millennium. I'd held off on using it for a number of years because it just seemed too unforgivably dorky to get body art based on recent media, but I couldn't help it: I adore that particular design. Upon playing around with the idea, I realized how I could combine the two. In the opening for the Millennium and some of the logo stills, the ouroboros is superimposed over some distressed lines. I replaced the lines with my sigil and was happy with the design. I don't think that I can call the end result a yantra, but given the reasons behind this cutting and who I asked to cut it into my flesh, I will say that it's the most spiritual body art I've ever received. PhoenixB and I were congratulating ourselves and each other even before they were completely done. The design already looked excellent on the stencil and looked even better when they showed me the blood print they'd made of it. Seeing it in the mirror was astounding and very much a "Holy shit, I finally did it"moment. I find turning my arm to look at it mesmerizing; blood's okay but the parted skin seems downright sexy to me. Phoenix complimented me on my determinedly deep breathing, which was crucial. Once I got firmly into it, I found that I didn't mind the pain quite as much -- most of the time. I was still highly aware of it and it still hurt. I noticed that picturing a zig-zagging snake, like
a Zuni fetish, taking a corner with every chamber of my lungs and every part of my torso that I filled -- then retracing its path as I breathed back out just as slowly -- took the edge off of my awareness of the pain. Phoenix was the second person to associate what I recently learned about breathing with
kundalini, and during the cutting I found myself nearly giddy with noticing the connection. Then again, I also developed some strong realizations about the tattoos along the right side of my body in conjunction with this new art. PhoenixB, by the way, is amazing. And again, I thank them. I walked home, picked up some
kombucha as a treat and worked my arm from time to time to try to get some of the stiffness out. Once home I stripped, poured hydrogen peroxide all over the cutting, watching it fizz, and dabbing off both the bloody excess and the black fuzz from my sweatshirt. It's a bit less stiff now but still vivid. I'm not sure, but I think I'm now wearing the spiritual equivalent of a kid's ID bracelet. "If lost, please return to self ... "
