I wear bracelets every day. I don't know why I have such an affinity for them. Even my watch, which is masculine and severe, is more bracelet than timepiece. Most days I wear the slim, hooked cuff that was my mother's. Most days I wear the large link chain that I bought for myself to mark a milestone. Some days I wear the red beads that bring energy. Some days I wear the diamond bangles that mark the birth of my children.
As I contemplated a tattoo, there were a few phrases that lingered in my brain. For the last three New Year's Eves, I have set an intention for the coming year. I write it on a thick, white card and seal it in an envelope that I keep on my desk. The idea is to open it on my birthday in August to see how I am doing. I usually cheat and open it earlier. Not too much earlier, but early.
So now I have three phrases that mean something to me; they have served me well. Too many, though, to ink upon my skin. But I like the idea of having them close to me. As with a tattoo, I didn't need other people to be able to read them, not that I cared if they did, but the words were for me. I string some words for money, some for love and some for free, but a few I keep for myself.
I remembered that my friend, Sloane, has bracelets with words stamped into them. She represents the artist, Elle Binder, at her store, Stuff, and I asked her if I could have one made in gold. Gold, as you may or may not be aware, is quite expensive. Too expensive, it turns out, for someone who writes sometimes for money and love and free. But Binder also works in silver and is happy to finish her pieces in brass for those of us who need a warmer metal that is not so expensive.
"You need to have it sealed," said Sloane when I picked it up. And I will. Soon. But for now I am delighted at the clear note it rings when it hits the links, a sound reminiscent of the bells in Mass calling my attention to the transformation, which is where my focus should be.
