The most important stories we tell are the ones about ourselves and the world.
Who you think you are, and what you think the world is, influences all facets of your experience – your sense of self, your relationships, your beliefs and how you experience and show up in the world.
Our stories are how we make meaning. They’re a lens through which we understand our lives.
I like to think of these stories as filtered glasses, each one adding its own tint, affecting how we see. Over time, they combine to form a concentrated, focused beam, like a spotlight, directing our attention to some things, at the exclusion of others.
In this way, these lenses – our stories – bear real weight on our movement through life.
They influence where our awareness resides and in doing so, shape the path we walk, consciously or not. They influence who we think we are now, and who we are becoming, acting as internal gatekeepers of what we believe is true and possible.
So, what does all of this have to do with tattoos?
Our tattoos record our stories.
Each tattoo carries a story – woven with memories, feelings, thoughts, reminders, lessons, values and beliefs – from a certain point in our lives. Like a chapter.
Together, all of our tattoos form the entire book, a living codex, a record of our story through time. In fact, this is one of the inherent functions of tattooing: Record- Keeping.
Tattoos act as ‘anchors’ for the narratives and information they hold, like a symbolic treasure chest and doorway back through time. They hold the stories of who we believe we are and how we see the world.
Our tattoos embody and connect us to previous experiences and versions of ourselves. Sometimes, these guide and empower us, connecting us to an expansive story and the essence of who we are. Other times, they tether us to an old self or story that we’ve since outgrown – a story that no longer serves.
Each time we see or think about our tattoos, the stories, memories, emotions and thoughts tied to that moment in time, and our relationship to all of these, can resurface, often at a deep subconscious level.
Because of this, our tattoos are an entry point into an infinite, intimate relationship with the self: a journey of self-discovery, self-understanding, healing and transformation. They track our movement through time – our joys and pains, highs and lows, triumphs and tragedies, conscious and unconscious drivers – allowing us to understand the path we’ve walked, orient to where we are now, and move forward with intention and clarity.
They help us answer:
- “What is my story?”
- “Are my glasses – the lens through which I perceive – clean and clear?”.
Our stories can be our medicine or our curse, depending on whether they grow with us and guide us, or hold us back and steer us off course.
I’d say this is one of the therapeutic qualities of tattoos: the ability to open, read, and become deeply aware of our story, and to decide, compassionately and with tenderness, whether this story is still true – and whether it’s one we want to keep telling.
The story of my tattoos…
My tattoos tell of a journey through the wilderness and into the heart
As a teenager, I set out searching in desire for something different, with questions, yearnings and hurts. Deep down, I knew there had to be more than what I was being shown.
I entered the wilderness – a foreign, dense land – without guidance, or any map. After only a short time, I felt exposed, unequipped, and out of place. “I don’t belong here”, I thought.
Feeling vulnerable, I began to build protection. Armour, made from the bark of the trees I passed. Any time I felt lost or exposed, I carved a piece from the trees and layered it onto myself.
Each piece of bark, a tattoo, shielded me from the outside world and helped me blend in amongst the forest, perhaps even feel safe.
For the next ten years, I continued my journey, wandering deeper into the shadowy wilderness, experiencing the beauties and tragedies of nature and life along the way, collecting more bark, more armour.
I was still seeking an answer, an unclear aim, that remained elusive and ephemeral.
So, I walked, and I walked, and I walked.
But, this journey was hard.
Exhausted, I stopped. And realised… I was lost.
Looking down at the layers of the bark covering my body, my heart felt heavy.
This armour was no longer protecting me, it was weighing me down. I felt as though I’d forgotten who resided underneath it.
Protection came at the cost of the true connection my heart desired – to myself, to others, to the world, and to the “more” I had set out seeking for
I’d been living as if I was the armour.
In this moment of pause, I heard the silence of the wilderness for the first time. And in this stillness, a mystical man emerged from the trees.
He sat opposite me, with his wise and compassionate eyes, and helped me light a warm and illuminating fire. As we sat around the fire, he told me stories from millennia past of the sacredness of the trees.
“The trees have a language”, he said, “and this armour of yours can speak. What is it trying to teach you?”.
I sat, and I listened.
Slowly, over time, I began to understand each piece of bark.
– Why I chose it
– What it meant
– Who I was at the time
– What it was trying to protect
– What it was trying to say
And in that process, the bark softened into paper.
It wasn’t armour anymore.
It was a story.
It was guidance.
It was a map of the journey I had just been on! A navigational aid of the shadowy terrain of the wilderness.
As I understood the meaning of each piece of bark, and followed this map, it took me on a new kind of journey – a pilgrimage of the heart.
The path ahead was still unknown. But I now had a sense of direction and guidance. The bark, once a material for my survival, was now a tool of navigation.
As I walked this new course, my map needed revision. The story needed tending. I came to see that some of the bark I was wearing needed updating to better reflect the journey I was now on.
But, I didn’t need to erase the past to move forward. Instead, I intentionally buried these pieces of armour beneath new bark, beneath new markings. Not to hide them, but to integrate them. To honour their place in my story.
“You brought me this far. And now, I choose to carry you differently”.
Like compost in the forest, those older layers became the fertile ground from which something new could grow.
The tattoos I receive now are no longer armour or shields. They are a map, a record, and guidance. They tell the story of my journey to the heart, and still speak the sacredness of the trees.
So, I continue to wander the wilderness and explore the unknown. But now I walk barefoot. The terrain no longer feels as foreign and frightening. I see the sun shining through the canopy. I know where the light sits. I know how to navigate the shadows, rather than the shadows navigate me.
I have a way to continually check whether I’m on course, and to fine-tune my direction.
Tattooing is no longer a reaction. It’s a ritual. A dialogue with my becoming.
“Where the old and new converge,
a bridge between past and present,
and a pathway into the next unknown emerge”
And at the end of my life, I hope that my tattoos are the truest representation – the truest story – of who I really am.
What story are your tattoos telling? And is it one you still want to live by?
Tattoos that reveal or conceal
This story of using tattoos as armour (for hiding and protection) or revelation (for unlayering and truth) is something we often talk about at Tattoo Pathway.
We would ask, “Are your tattoos revealing or concealing?”.
When our tattoos are revealing, they mark a process of growing into closer alignment with who we truly are. This process unfolds over time through shedding, or removing, the layers of identity, story and protective mechanisms that we’ve built around us and which conceal our true inner self. They have a healthy expression of, “this is who I am”, and “this is who I’m becoming”. It’s a story of expansion, growth and connection.
When our tattoos are concealing, they actually take us further away from who we truly are. They mark who we want to be, or who we feel we should be. They may unintentionally encode our hurts, traumas, outdated beliefs and misaligned experiences. They tell a story of hiding, contraction and limitation, and can hold us back.
Bringing awareness to your tattoos
To begin understanding your tattoos, and the layers of meaning and story they carry, you might start by asking:
- Who was I when I got this tattoo and what was happening in my life at the time?
- Why did I choose this specific image or symbol? What part of me or my life was it expressing or protecting?
- What do I feel now when I connect to this tattoo? What felt sense, emotions, thoughts and memories surface?
- What story is this tattoo telling about who I am and how I see the world – and is this story still true for me?
Be as honest and gentle with yourself as possible. To each answer, you might ask, “And what’s underneath that?” – slowly uncovering deeper layers.
Notice any emotions or sensations that arise as you reflect. These are part of the tattoo’s energetic imprint – a breadcrumb trail into understanding its deeper significance and its weight on your journey. You’re listening for the story it tells…
This can be a deep and transformational process, sometimes surfacing celebration and gratitude, and other times bringing us into contact with challenges and pains. We offer 1:1 sessions to support people through this, or monthly facilitated group sessions in our community to walk the path of inquiry and revealing together.
This is both a process of mapping – understanding where you’ve been, where you are, and where you’re going – and a process of unveiling: Are my tattoos telling a story that feels true? Do they align with who I am becoming?”
From a place of awareness, we can meet our story.
We can honour it and thank it for its guidance so far, and if needed, we can also reframe and update it.
By becoming aware of the information our tattoos hold, we gain entry into understanding our selves – who we think we are, and what we think the world is. We can ask: Is this still the story I want to live by?
And if the answer is no –
That’s not the end of the story.
It’s the beginning of a new one.
