There's this feeling within me that I can't quite understand. It's a feeling of overwhelming sadness. Yet there is peace and acceptance. Some call this grief. In the Japanese language, this feeling is known as:
mono no aware (物の哀れ).
In translation it means the pathos or deep feeling of things and the acceptance of transience and impermanence -
a beautiful sadness of appreciating what once was and is no more - like the colors of autumn leaves right before they fall, the changes of the moon, or the absence of family, friends, and lovers.
This term stresses the impermanence of life and that we should willingly and gracefully let go of our attachments to transient things. Mono no aware recognizes that the beauty of something (whether a person, an object, or even a moment in time) is dependent on its transiency, in a way that would be missing if we knew that it would last forever, similarly to how we often take for granted the mountains or the oceans in front of us.
My new tattoo is a representation of this phrase. It is the appreciation of an experience, the acceptance of loss, and the excitement of whats to come. In my own processing, I've realized that there is great romance in walking away from something - the passage of time; in death, and in loss.
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When I was four years old, I said goodbye to my home in the Philippines. Though my heart was weary and fearful at the same time, I was also excited for a new life in Hawaii. At eight years old, I moved again and said goodbye to a home, a feeling of familiarity, a place where I learned to ride a bike and where I found my first friend.
When I was 17, I said goodbye to my family as I flew out to Denver for college, leaving behind the comfort and safety of a community. At first, the nights were cold, my heart felt empty, and my bones felt hallow.
At age 23, I fell in love with a boy who sheepishly fell in love with me too. And at age 25, I said goodbye to that lover, and as I protected my heart, I encased it with sleepless nights, empty kisses from strangers, and drunken stupors, but yet, there was room in my bed to feel his absence.
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Months later and here I am. In reflection, I've learned to accept my relationship for what it was and move forward. I am still processing and healing, and I am sitting in the pain and sadness of this recent loss - but most importantly, I am okay.
Unfortunately, there are nights where I still think about the love and the life I had with him. But not in a heartbreaking, head turning, bed tossing, aching kind of way. It's more of an acceptance, a closure - of where we happened and how real it felt in that moment. But now we no longer are.
I am sad but also grateful for the experience - the essence of mono no aware. Like shattered glass, I pick up the pieces of my life and move forward. As my tattoo depicts, I, similarly to a lotus, grew from hardship and murky waters. At the same time, I am like a bud, willing to grow, learn, and experience. The owl is of a different story - it signifies knowledge and a way forward. It is unfinished...like myself.
And during each moment of my life, when I had to say goodbye to each phase or experience, their absence gave me more substance than they ever had. So to anyone reading this who may need to hear it. Sit through the pain because there is beauty in accepting transience and impermanence.
I'm still figuring this out for myself, but this process, although difficult, has only made me realize to be grateful for the moments I can call my own.
I'm starting to forget certain things. The way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way you smelled - it's all becoming a blur. I can't feel your presence nor can I hear your voice. It's almost as if you are gone or never existed at all. 
