I believe things happen for a reason and there are no coincidences. Interestingly, I wrote a post on this topic here. Even more so, the timing is appropriate for my birthday this coming week. Here’s my “Peaceful” photo.
I’ve always said there is nothing that I would put on my body that I could honestly keep for the rest of my life. Having seen how some people frivolously put tattoos on their body, such as a boy/girlfriend’s name, even husband or wife, and then within a few years it’s over. To me, nothing is forever.
But, this is a hypothetical discussion, so here it is. The one thing that I could possibly think of that I would be willing to put on my body is the symbol for peace in Japanese calligraphy, “Heiwa”. For those who don’t know, the Hindi name, Shanti means “peace”. The derivation of that, Shanta, means “peaceful”. It sounds a little self-serving/selfish, but the only thing that I could honestly rely on and know through and through, is me. There are people for whom I would lay my life on the line, but those people have changed. One can never know what events might change who they are and what might cause the change. Why Japanese? Simple: I’ve always loved the Orient and I am a student of martial arts.
In addition, the bigger picture is that I believe that we come from our roots. This is a great symbol of my grandmother, whom I wrote about in a previous post. I know that I can be combative at times, but I usually get riled up when I believe that there is some injustice. Ultimately, I want peace. I might sound much like a beauty pageant contestant, but it’s true. I believe that in order to survive, we all need to get along. As my friend Dan Levy (@TheDanLevy) said: “/rant”
My first name “Shanta” is a Hindu name meaning “peaceful”. The more common name “Shanti” means “peace” and is more commonly heard in eastern chants such as “Om Shanti”.
When I was born, they said that I was so peaceful that they decided to give me the name of my paternal grandmother. It is truly an honour to have the same name as she.
She became bedridden shortly after my grandfather passed away. There she stayed for more than 12 years. Her hearing started going along with her eyesight. But she never complained. She would sit there day in and day out praying for the welfare of her children and grandchildren, like me.
I was fortunate enough to spend two months in India in her home and the last day I gave her, along with the other women of the household, including the servant, a dozen roses. I like to think that whenever she smelled roses, she would think of me. She passed away a few months later.
I can only hope that I will do her name justice and continue to bring peace.