Lisa Casey pictured with her boyfriend at a tattoo convention last week
We’re born whole, with our own tiny fully-formed souls, like little rosebuds closed, but containing all of us, every part of who we are is already there, ready to be nurtured to open in the most spectacular way.
Not forced to change, a flower can’t be forced to open more quickly or slowly, well nowadays I’m sure it can, we’ve become so stupendously good at messing with nature, but this act would indeed shorten the life of the flower or at the very least make it miserable.
Why do we do this to these flowers? What is it about who we are that makes us want to change everything? Why can’t we just accept what is? Why am I asking so many questions??
Maybe it’s because they’ve asked me to increase the number of words on this column by 150 and I’m trying desperately to fill it. God, I am lazy.
Right now I’m sitting at a tattoo convention watching my boyfriend be tattooed, I look around as I write this and see people, being drawn to have images on their bodies, maybe they see these images and are reminded of themselves, a part of themselves that has always existed in them, but that they’ve forgotten.
Perhaps they have an image of a bear tattooed on their leg as it reminds them of their power.
Perhaps they were born to be the leader of a country or something, but maybe their mam was a dead anxious person who liked to feel in control because it made her feel safe, so she taught her son Jeff to be a big pushover and always listen to others and ignore his own feelings about things.
And now poor Jeff is going around the place feeling like something is missing. So he gets his bear tattoo and every time he looks at it he feels good because he subconsciously thinks: “Yeah, that’s me, now I remember.”
A nice analogy, it makes me think of what my own tattoos mean? (One of them being my own name on my wrist) Maybe I was trying to remind myself of who I am.
Or perhaps that I am more than my name, I am the depth of the ocean, as an extension of the universe I am inside the all, every possibility, everything and everyone. Or maybe I just wanted it because my mate had one.
Anyways, who am I? As an individual, I don’t really know who I am. Every now and again I remember something about myself that I have forgotten, like the fact that I love wearing tracksuits, like, all the time.
They’re the pajamas of the street. But they also say, don’t mess with me ...brap.
So what does that say about me? Well, maybe it says that I like to be comfortable but also I don’t like to be messed with.
That sounds about right. I think I’ll head to Belfast tomorrow and seek out some nice urban PJs.
You might be thinking, why so analytical Lisa?
Well, I have to be, because I am for sure one of those people who abandons themselves for the belief that everyone else knows better than I do.
I do find happiness when I stay true to myself. I find myself in the depths of sadness and confusion when I find myself spending time doing things that I think will make others like me, maybe others who could make my life better and perhaps bring me towards the life I actually want.
When I wake up in the morning I have a choice - will I spend my day doing things that I think will please other people or ‘improve’ myself so they might like me? Or do I choose to do whatever the hell I want to, (short of kicking a small animal).
Maybe if I do that every day I’ll be living the life I’ve always wanted to live!