Permanent Souvenir

It hit me last month that I graduated high school 10 years ago. That’s crazy to think about. I won’t make it back for my 10 year high school reunion, but discussing it with my former classmates has made me really think about how much my life has changed since I walked across the stage in the Little River High School gymnasium holding a diploma.

If you would have told me at that time that I’d be living in India in 10 years, there’s no way I would have believed you. In fact, if you would have told me I would be living anywhere but Kansas, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. It’s funny how life happens when you’re too busy to pay attention.  

At the time, I admit I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. I knew I was going to go to K-State and major in mechanical engineering. Why mechanical engineering? Because I loved the show Battle Bots, and when I asked my brother what the guys majored in who built robots and fought them on TV, he said probably mechanical engineering. After a year of learning how to size air conditioning ducts, I decided that mechanical engineering wasn’t for me. So what was next? I had no clue. Teaching and coaching sounded pretty appealing. I also had dreams of being in the FBI. So while contemplating this important life decision at 3 AM with a few Busch Lights in the system, my good friend Byron Noll told me all about a major he was changing to called Construction Science and Management, which I had never heard of before. Hey, sounded pretty good to me though. A few days later, that was my new major.

It only took me 5 years to graduate too! Side note: I would strongly recommend taking a victory lap in college. You’re going to be paying off student loans for the next 20 years anyway, might as well throw one more year on there. I had entirely too much fun in college to graduate “on time”. Two of my favorite quotes of all time are on this subject. The first being from my Uncle Jim; “Graduating in 4 years is like leaving a party at 11 o'clock.” The second being from someone almost as esteemed, Mr. Albert Einstein, who said “Never let schooling get in the way of your education.”

Anyways, my point is that life never takes you where you think it will. You probably won’t grow up to be what you thought you were going to be, even in High School. And as much as you love your high school girlfriend, it probably won’t work out. It’s ok. (I actually didn’t intend for this to be an advice column for high schoolers. I wish my stupid brain could stay on track sometimes). Hell, I went to senior prom with a blow-up doll. (That is actually true. And even though I paid for two dinners, they only let me eat one. I was upset about that. Apparently I still am. Oh, and I also feel the need to tell you that it wasn't my doll, and I'm pretty sure it was unused.)

Getting back to my original point, I’m not where I thought I would be 10 years ago, and I am so happy about that. I never thought that after college I would move from Kansas to Minnesota to New Jersey to Hawaii back to Minnesota then to India. FREAKING INDIA. If you would have told me then…hell…if you would have told me a year ago that I’d be living in India right now, I would have called you crazy. If you would have told me in high school that I would grow out my hair to my shoulders and throw it back in a pony tail every once in a while, I wouldn’t have believed you. If you would have told me I would have not one, but two tattoos, I would call you crazy. (And finally, 6 paragraphs later, I come to the subject of the post.) A lot of people are surprised that I have tattoos. I’m a pretty conservative guy, and don’t do off the wall type stuff very often.  But those who know me well enough know that I can be pretty random, and like to shake things up every once in a while.

I got my first tattoo during my second senior year in college. I already had a job locked down, and it was hard to concentrate on school, so I did just about anything and everything else instead to occupy my time and squeeze every last bit of fun out of my college years. My friend Andy and I had always talked about getting a tattoo together, so one day we actually decided to quit talking about it and do it. I had been thinking about it for a few years, so I already had a design in mind and knew just what I wanted. So we headed to Aggieville to Stray Cat Tattoo, made our appointments, and showed up a week later to have them done.

Don't let the massive bicep distract you.

It’s important to note that I feel if you are getting a tattoo, it needs to mean something. I’m not someone to get barbed wire around my bicep. Or a random Chinese symbol is supposed to mean “courage” but actually means “douchebag”, especially since I’ve never set foot in China. If I’m going to get something permanently tattooed onto my skin, I’ve got to have a deep personal connection with it, and I need to be completely confident that I won’t regret the subject matter or the body placement 10, 20, or 30 years down the road. Spontaneity and risk taking can be good things, but never with tattoos.

Fail. (Just so we're clear, this is not my arm.)

The internet is littered with pictures and stories of failed tattoo attempts. Just google "tattoo fail" and you'll get thousands of pictures. It's amazing how many misspellings there are in tattoos. Or people who thought it would be a good idea to get a face of a loved one tattooed on them by someone who wasn't really qualified to do so. Shawn Marion (NBA player) thought he was getting his nickname of "the matrix" in Chinese symbols. What he really got was something resembling "demon bird moth balls". Keep it simple people, and know what you're getting!

Awesome Tattoo Fail Article in the New York Times

So with my first tattoo, I was very confident that I wouldn’t regret it. It is three stalks of wheat with the family farm brand, the Broken Bar “O”, in the intersection of the plants. It’s all about having pride in where I came from, and all about remembering my roots. At that point I knew my life would probably take me a few different places, and maybe never back to Kansas long term, who knows? But I wanted a reminder of where I came from every time I looked in the mirror. Mission accomplished. I haven’t regretted that tattoo a single day since I’ve gotten it. It is a good souvenir to have from a major checkpoint in my life.

Which brings me to today and my second tattoo. Living in India has been a life altering event. I’ve seen and learned so much here, it’s almost unfathomable. I was thinking a while ago about what souvenirs I wanted to bring back with me to remember my time here. I don’t have a lot of luggage space to bring anything big back with me, so the idea popped in my head of marking this new landmark in my life with another tattoo. I had wanted to get another one for a while, but wasn’t sure I had a good enough reason or subject matter. So I determined this would be as good a time as any. The next decision was what to get. I wanted to get something that has a deep cultural meaning here, but also something that wouldn’t piss off my God, and something that wouldn’t piss off Indians if they saw it. Not the easiest thing to do. But after much deliberation, I decided to go with the “Aum” (or "om") symbol.

One of the coolest things about living in Southern Asia is learning about the different cultures, and especially how they tie into religion. Learning about other religions is fascinating to me, and I’ve been lucky enough to be immersed into three of the world’s most practiced religions (besides Christianity) in the places I’ve traveled: Hinduism in India, Buddhism in Nepal and Sri Lanka, and Islam in the UAE. The more you learn about other religions, the more it helps you understand your own. I truly believe that. Also, the more you learn about other religions, the more you learn how alike most of them are. It was interesting to me during my research that the concept of “Aum” has roots that transcend culture and religion. I’ll attempt to summarize a little bit.

At the core of “Aum”, it contains the “essence of the universe.” It is believed by many cultures that it was the sound made at the moment of creation. It contains all other sounds and all other words. If you make a natural sound with your mouth closed it would sound like humming. (Go ahead, try it) Now, while still making that same sound, open your mouth and then close it. Sounded like “aum” or “om”, right? Go ahead try to make a different sound. It’s always the same. So in that regard, that is how it contains all other words. When you open your mouth to say anything, it will always sound like “au” and when you close your mouth, it will sound like “m”. You can then relate it to being all-encompassing, the culmination of everything, or the alpha and omega (sound familiar?). Beyond that, it also represents the 4 divine states, metta (loving kindness), karuna (compassion), mudita (sympathetic joy), and upekkha (equanimity). Those are all good things that I can get on board with.

The actual symbol is written in Sanskrit, and each part of the symbol has a very significant meaning. The two curls on top of each other (that look like the number 3), with the downward curl that spirals out from the "3" shape, represent a different state of consciousness. The large, bottom curl stands for the normal state of being awake. The curl above it stands for deep sleep, while the curl emanating out from the center of the two represents the dream state. Those are the states of consciousness that every human on earth experiences. But the dot and the open curve above is what elevates the symbol to a much higher and more sacred meaning. The dot represents absolute consciousness; that's not the same as merely being awake, but it means being fully aware of yourself and everything around you. The open curve that cradles the dot represents an infinitely open mind, which is required to achieve that level of absolute consciousness.

Those of you who have ever meditated and made this sound, or done so during a yoga class, you now know what the sound means and what the concept is behind it. Hopefully you can have a little more appreciation for it now. You're welcome.

After the “what” was solved, the next step was “where and when”. I was a little concerned about finding a place in India that I would deem safe to get a tattoo, but a quick google search brought up a couple of places that looked like decent possibilities. So a couple of Saturdays ago, I hopped in my car and asked Shyam to drive me to one of them. After telling him where I was going, he informed me that he has a friend that does very good tattoos. And if I logged onto a website called the facebook, I could see his work. I didn’t tell him I was leery about getting a back alley tattoo in India from his friend, but told him I might check it out if this place didn’t work out.

I walked into the place, and it seemed clean enough. After a short wait, I was escorted into the actual room where the work happens to talk to the tattoo artist. I had viewed some of his work in photo albums in the waiting area, so I knew he could do pretty good work. Plus, my tattoo was pretty straightforward and easy. As long as he could stay in the lines, it would be pretty tough to mess up. After asking a couple questions about the safety precautions they used, I was satisfied. He had an opening in his schedule, so I decided to jump right in and get it done! The artist was a very religious guy, which I guess is good. He talked to me about my choice of symbol, maybe to make sure I knew its significance. He prayed to 3 different gods before, during, and after he gave me the tattoo. It also appeared that he bestowed some sort of blessing on all of his equipment before he started. So that’s a good thing, right?

Thirty minutes later he was done. He got me all bandaged up, and the blood returned to my fingers from squeezing my hands so hard together. Whoever says that getting a tattoo doesn’t hurt is an idiot trying to sound like a tough guy. Of course getting poked with a needle repeatedly for a half hour is going to hurt. But it wasn’t unbearable. It's kind of like someone slapping you in the same spot that is severly sunburned over and over again. That sort of acute, burning pain.

So, as I head home from my journey here, amongst all the wooden statues, pictures, pashmina scarves, refrigerator magnets, a guitar, and whatever else I find to blow my money on between now and the time I leave here, I’ll be bringing back a little piece of India that’s more permanent. It’s something I can look at every time I step in front of a mirror to remind myself of my experiences here, both good and bad, and what I’ve learned from them. More than anything, it will help me remember this significant time in my life. And just as growing up on Hilltop Farm in Little River, Kansas helped prepare me for the next phase of my life, hopefully living in a city of 8 million in Bangalore, India will do the same for whatever lies ahead for me from this point forward. At least until I reach the next checkpoint that perhaps will warrant another permanent souvenir.