Paper is an interesting word. I prefer to use it as a metaphor for my life. The tattoo on my arm (pictured) is dedicated to my closest friend that committed suicide in 2014. He was an author and collected typewriters. The model on my arm was his favorite that now sits on his youngest son’s desk.
The typewriter is a powerful weapon, but only as powerful as the paper used to convey the thought. The piece of paper in the typewriter on my arm is blank for a reason. In my world, the story is still unwritten.
I got this tattoo a few months after my cardiac arrest. The way I see things, everything I do from this point forward is “bonus time” and extra icing on the cake, known as my life. I died and miraculously survived. My life is now a blank slate, hence the piece of paper.
Paper is used to tell your story.
Paper is your daily life.
Every day is a new piece of paper.
What’s on your page?
It starts off blank, but then what?
Does it get dark?
Is it bright and cheery?
I can honestly say that most of the pages that constitute my life, before the incident, were darker shades of grey. Usually filled with ominous looking clouds, my outtake on life was a bit “doom and gloom”.
After the incident, I’ve completely changed things that make me unhappy. I’ve dropped 110 pounds. I focus everyday on not “sweating the small stuff”. Adopting the #zfg policy outlined in the book, “The Subtle Art Of Not Giving A F*!@”, which I highly recommend.
Paper is what you make of it.
Paper is the fabric of your life.
Paper is your gift to this planet.
Leave it blank, make it dark, make it bright.
But, make it, nonetheless.
We’re waiting.
(R.I.P. Christopher Cooley)
