Metamorphosis:

I figured there was no better way to start this than with the first line I wrote in my journal in 2016 entitled “Metamorphosis” - because I always knew walking through this rite of passage would need a memoir.

“My journey to a second skin, which is somehow allowing me to feel more comfortable in the me I am in.”

21 year old me already experiencing the sensation that the soul is something that exists within the body like what should be a tender home- though for most of us the walls have gone to flames at some point in our existence.

The beautiful thing about the ashes though, is that they clear they land for new flowers to grow.

That is precisely why I decided to turn my body into a blossoming garden, and my, have I watched it grow.

Ohhh little did I know those first thoughts in my tattoo diary were the seeds of my coming to consciousness and truly seeing the beauty of the soul -- how this physical bag of flesh and bones is simply a gift we are given to walk the Earth on for however long we are fortunate enough to.

My coming home to self came after years of seeking to escape just that.

It's like we have to wander down the darkest of spiraling caverns to find the gem of our hearts.

But that's the thing- once we find it, it’s radiance is our lighthouse. The dance of life is the journey of continuing to unearth it each and every day. We are like life’s juicy apples to core.

The other thing is- when we really allow ourselves to embrace this existence fully in presence, our capacity to hold all that is - the depth of both suffering and bliss-

well, what I have found is that it continues to expand, and expand, and expand.

What it is to LIVE, am I right?!

I trust that life washes over me with the waves of goodness only because I ebb when the waters recede with the moon’s cycles, baring my bruises to its healing light.

My tattoos are my story book in ink: dancing atop my skin, reflecting lessons from within.

It all started when I connected with an incredibly whimsical and magically creative artist in my hometown of San Diego.

I had gotten my first tattoo on my 18th birthday, and had collected a couple smaller pieces since then.

The most poignant being the precious bird outside of the cage.

This story is of a 10 year old girl surviving the Holocaust- my grandmother Manya, the deepest vein of strength in my bloodline.

She told me of how she and her father were forced into hiding in cemeteries and swamps after being separated from her mother & sisters, all of whom were swallowed by the belly of this harrowing time. I honor them skin deep with this piece.

My grandmother spoke of laying amidst the swampy reeds, her body frail from hunger, leeches on her skin.

She spoke of her survival being sparked by looking to the sky and watching the birds fly with freedom- wishing, she was the bird outside of the cage.

Both of my maternal grandparents are Holocaust survivors, and have turned their pain into light by speaking about tolerance and acceptance in dozens of schools- this is what drives me to never cage myself.

I wanted to expand on this notion of freedom in my body mural.

My thirst for life yearned to be etched into my skin. My love of tattoos as a form of expression met me like a romance I have yet to have with a partner.

I’ll keep you posted in the future on that one!

So- at that point I really knew that ink was my fullest form of embodied expression- and I was ALL IN.

At my consult session we shared some laughter and bonding before I told her that I wanted a mural of metamorphosis expressing my inner divine nature beyond this human form.

I wanted to feel like a radiant hummingbird. I wanted my skin to dance with the light I had found in my heart.

I had spent so long hating my body through a wicked eating disorder, distorted shame after sexual assault, and the disconnection that our very society even places upon our vessels.

To move out of this space, I had to fight so hard. I knew that I had climbed a mountain of soul growth through deep and painful inner-work. I told myself that I deserved to honor the newfound buoyancy, joy, and connection that I was fostering within myself.

And so I did.

After 10 hours in on the journey beneath the needle, I write-

“My mind buzzes with a hum of excitement, I feel free. I feel like I am rattling the cage of conformity. I am experiencing an unbelievable catharsis through physical pain. Pushing my mind and body to, through, and past the boundaries of what I had perceived my own limits to be.”

After 20 hours-

“Each time my skin peels I feel as if I am shedding the endless layers of expectations.”

I had spent so long denying my true self, that fully embracing my essence through this physical transformation of art in ink awakened an even deeper understanding of who I am and why I am here.

I am here to help others find their way back home to the heart, as I continue to find mine.

The purple woman with the antlers and mystical creatures of her own wild jungle reminds me of my uniqueness, my fight, and my mission to spread the light of self-love.

The meaning of my tattoo became even more deeply confirmed after I came across a painting created by an incredible street artist in Venice Beach, LA - of a purple woman, with the skin of her humanness peeling away, revealing her inner ethereal power beneath.

The piece is entitled “transformation” and I knew it was meant for me.

This art on my body, earned through blood and sweat- it tells the story of my rising. My metamorphosis.

The mural is still unfinished- like my story.

I have learned to sit with the grey, the blank spaces that I wish could be completed and perfected- instead coming to terms with the process of patience and understanding that this life asks of us.

It reminds me each day to emerge from the chrysalis in confidence.

These lessons,

This lifetime,

My story-

In ink & heartbeat.

I knew it needed a memoir when it started, and even though the piece is unfinished; thank you Vocal for allowing me the space to complete this chapter.