every day majestic

I got a tattoo six months ago. EVERY DAY MAJESTIC is now permanently inked on my left forearm, each bold black letter reminding me of a commitment that requires daily tending. The measure of a day has not always been my go-to metric and I have learned to live life in chapters intended to build toward some kind of brighter future. A touch of unicorn cancer later, however, and I am reconsidering the imperative to be and do more that fuels my seemingly incessant drive. What would it feel like to lean into a different kind of arc? What might my life resemble if each day were a measure unto its own?

When I learned that I would be spared chemotherapy or radiation, I knew that this season would require a different kind of remembering. Some learning requires permanent markers. Some lessons need to be more than skin deep. Mine is not a particularly large tattoo, and it’s location on my inner arm makes it visible mostly to me. And still, there are days when I have to remind myself of its bold invitation. EVERY DAY MAJESTIC. On good days, I walk and breathe and read and write before all else, becoming living proof that magic happens when we practice what we preach. On days when I forget myself, no amount of staring at my tattooed arm can overwrite the muscle memory that pushes me beyond what any given day can feasibly hold. And so, on this my 39th birthday, I begin a new year in a posture of presence that begs for accountability. What will it take to master the sustainable living of these days? I am living into that question, one majestic day at a time.

March 8, 2020