Gods and Ink
I have several tattoos.
There’s the question mark on my right wrist, which matches both the exclamation point on my left wrist and the corresponding marks on my wife’s wrists. There’s the thumb prints of my wife, sister, and parents in a diamond on my upper back, surrounded by a laurel crown. On my left ankle there’s an especially cryptic mark that’s a pillow outline mixed with an infinity symbol.
Last weekend, I got my latest. I’ve been saying for years that I’d get it, but I never got the timing and the vibe quite right. I don't normally worry about the vibe when I get a tattoo, but this one was a little different.
It’s the only tattoo I have that’s based off of someone else’s work. And if you aren’t terminally online, it’s not likely a work you’ve heard of.
It’s a work by three pseudonymed Tumblr users, one of whom is deactivated and therefor lost to history, one is still active and posting mainly Gorillaz fanart, and the third is the only one posting writing-related content regularly. None of it's authors are people whose own fame as writers would help the story get seen, although they clearly have some serious skills. It has none of the irony or referential power of most memes. It’s sincere, collaborative, free from profit-driven gatekeeping, and it's spread like wildfire with no marketing except that thousands upon thousands of people loving it and resonating with it and passing it onThis is some powerful old-old-world mythmaking here.
The God of Arepo is my favorite short story, bar none. You can read the whole brief, brilliant gem of it right now, for free, right here. Please do yourself a favor and spare a moment to read it right now.
I write, watch, read, and enjoy stories of people who go to great lengths to protect and help the people they love.
But isn’t this beautiful, too? Isn’t it amazing that love can thrive without the justification of utility?
We’ve all felt the grief and fear that comes from knowing we can’t save someone we love from something that’s hurting them. For a lot of people, shame and anger come along with that experience.
We’re all limited.
Even those inclined towards praying when they have no other options usually know that to pray for something and to guarantee it are two different things.
So we watch the people we love get hurt, and we are hurt for them, and we know that we’ll always be limited in how much we can protect them, no matter how much we’re willing to sacrifice or how hard we’re willing to work.
Arepo is a beautiful figure to me because his story isn’t one of forgiveness. He doesn’t forgive his god for not saving him. He’s not a young child with the thoughtless faith that their parents can protect them from everything. He knows the score.
His god isn’t withholding blessings, but the blessings he has to offer aren’t those than can save Arepo.
Arepo doesn’t need to forgive his god, because he loved his god for who he was, not what Arepo needed. He appreciated that ephemeral, delicate, quiet beauty.
I’ve known so many people- especially disabled people- who see all the ways they can’t be useful, and end up believing that nobody could love them. That’s especially true if some of the things they can’t do are “normal” or “easy”. I've seen this fear poison people who've survived traumas, but who are acutely aware that the world can be a dangerous place, and that they themself often don’t have the knowledge or power to keep themself or the people they love safe.
I got my Arepo tattoo to honor love that endures past helplessness and beyond utility. It’s a reminder of love that doesn’t need to forgive frailty because the frailty was never a sin in the first place. It simply was a trait that we all share.
And to remember that in the 3 years since this story was written, hundreds of thousands of people read that same story, and loved it, too. That's so many people who looked at this message, and thought, yes.
That tells all of us that other people do not need to forgive us for our weaknesses.
The tattoo itself was a lovely gift from friends, one of whom was teaching the other the ropes. It was a surprisingly gentle process- so much so that I dozed off on my couch while getting tattooed. And these kind gifts are sweeter for being laid against a backdrop of this narrative of care that does not need to be transactional.
Care given freely will always be the most beautiful to me.
Thanks so much for joining me for another Month of Shed Letters.
If you want to share your favorite short story with me, I would love to see it! I also am always greedy for the stories behind people's tattoos, so feel free to send those my way as well!
See you next month,
Lee Brontide
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