For years, I lived like borrowed hands – shaping the dreams of others while my own lay untouched. My worth was measured in how well I carried, cared, and quietly gave away to others.
Then, in the stillness of lockdown, a tree bloomed on my forearm. Inked in Winter lines, it became the symbolic reminder for me to stay true to my roots. For the first time, I chose something different – not for approval, but for myself. I listened to the quiet voice within me and answered: I can hear you now.
I first asked for my family’s approval to get a tattoo of a Winter tree for my 18th birthday. Despite their disapproval, a hopeful voice within me that I’ve never heard before told me that getting this marking was meant to be. That is when I first heard myself.
Each tattoo since has become both map and memory of their own meaning; symbols of life lessons learned, memorials of lives loved, and the courage to claim my own path. And collectively, they remind me that my empathy and kindness is not a weakness, but my legacy: to lead the spreading of our original roots as human beings! My markings connect me to my ancestors I’ve never met before, whose strength I carry and message I will forever pass on as our collected legacy; “to be creatures of kindness.” My markings anchor me in my belonging to myself, to the external world, and to the shared spreading of joy in the lives of others.
This is me: once silent, now rooted, resilient, and free – carrying light not only for myself, but for others, too.
