Eight Arms

Half of my back is covered with an octopus tattoo. He’s reaching up at an anchor that is donned with a crown. I had the anchor and crown done in November 2011. The octopus came to life over several sessions spanning from February to August 2018. It was only today when I realized what it means to me.

When people I ask, I just mumble something about liking octopuses. My memory flashes back to the Veruca Salt album cover for Eight Arms to Hold You, the golden octopus with the crown, and the album cover (actual vinyl album that my parents had) for Jefferson Starship’s Red Octopus, the red heart with the octopus arms… I’ve been drawn to the imagery for decades.

I got the anchor and crown done as a tribute in a way. My dad bought his first boat when I was 11. He worked so damn hard for his money and having such a luxury was a big source of pride for him—a symbol of back-breaking work and commitment. The anchor for that piece of my life and the crown for me, the princess turned queen. I got a massage shortly after that tattoo healed and the massage therapist taught me about chakras, the root and the crown, as she thought my tattoo was symbolism for that. At the time I didn’t know anything about chakras. My subconscious sure did.

Last winter, when it was time to continue the tattoo journey on my back, I told my master artist to wrap an octopus around the anchor, to go as big as he wanted. I gave some color input and left the rest up to his mastery. I thought it was just thematically correct and in line with my connection to octopuses. This morning, as I sat at my nearly-clear (finally!) desk, day four of a four day weekend, ready to take on lesson plans, rescue emails, prep for Cyber Monday in my wellness business and catch up on course work for my University of Wellness certification, I got a lump in my throat and realized: I’m trying to be the octopus… but I’m six arms short.

I can do it all, but I can’t do it alone. I’ve tried to go it alone, resting on adages like, “If you want something done right, do it yourself” and expecting little to nothing from others. It’s time for me to open my two arms and welcome the support that’s around me. I’ve been cracking open, just a bit here and there, to let the help in. Today, I surrender. Universe, I’m welcoming the support with open arms.

I can have the strength of eight arms, if I’m open to the help. I’ll let the big guy on my back remind me of that. Much love.