Stand Sure

I've been thinking for some time of getting a tatoo, but I've never found anything that felt right. At one point I decided that I wanted to get one of those little plastic spinner things that goes in the middle of a 45 rpm record...you know the things. But then like 3 different snowboard companies and 2 record labels and maybe even a cat food manufacturer adopted that symbol as their logo, so that kind of ruined it for me. Anyway, when my Grandmother passed away last year, I received some of her old jewelry, among which I found a silver pendant in the shape of the Anderson Clan crest. Most Scottish clans have a crest of similar design - usually a wide belt around the outside, with a representative image in the centre and some kind of saying around the perimeter. The Anderson crest features an oak tree and the motto, "Stand Sure." Some of the crests are slightly oblique, if you ask me. For example, the McNabb crest features a black cat and the saying "Touch Not the Cat." Okay...won't touch the cat, you McNabbs. Anyway, the moment I saw the pendant, I knew I had found my tat. I booked an appointment the next day.

I'm not sure how to explain it, but getting this tatoo has been one of the best things I've ever done for myself. Not only was it an opportunity to confront my wariness (okay, fear) of pain, but it was an extremely visceral (not quite the right word, but you know what I mean) expression of my new way of doing life. Not least, it is a tribute to my grandmother and the life she led and the commendations that she'd received in her life for bravery during the war and during a particularly harrowing trans-Altantic boat voyage.

Speaking of harrowing, the above photo was taken at the summit of Crowsnest Mountain in September 2006. You can't tell from the photo, but I had just survived the near-death experience alluded to in earlier posts. In a nutshell, what happened was: I was crossing a small bowl in the upper reaches of the climb, when I heard my Dad call out from behind, "Rocks!" I looked up to see a shower of rocks tumbling down directly on top of me - some as large as a lunch box. There was no way I could escape, so I just covered my head (I had taken my helmet off under the assumption that we had passed the rockfall danger) and waited for something to hit me...but the expected hit never came! I could hear the rocks crashing all around me, but nothing touched me. I consider this no small miracle. Anyway, when I realized that the rockfall was done, I just got myself the hell out of there. Finally out of harm's way, I simply froze up, unable to go forward or backward. Bev, the most experienced of our party, gently but firmly reminded me that there was tricky climbing both ahead and behind, so I might as well get going. I knew she was right, so after a little while I was able to slowly start moving forward. Crowsnest is not a particularly difficult mountain to climb, but my arrival at the summit on that day was a personal victory on no small scale, and a re-affirmation of an inner strength that I had ignored for some time. It was my first real chance to stand sure.