Living Symbols: A Sacred Map of Healing, Memory, and Becoming
Some messages arrive in silence.
Others through dreams, through ink, through the language of the body.
Symbols whisper across time, across lifetimes—
reminding us of what we carry, what we’ve shed,
and what we are becoming.
This is the story of how the body became a canvas,
a vessel for remembering.
Of how pain became prayer, and geometry became guidance.
Of how I chose to wear the sacred
so I would never forget the way home.
About a week ago, I sat in a virtual coffee chat with a new kindred spirit I met through Substack. When she saw my tattoo, something stirred deep within her. There was a recognition, a remembering, something entirely unexpected. Her reaction moved me. It reminded me that these symbols are more than ink; they are living transmissions. That conversation became the spark that inspired me to write this piece.
This is the story of one of the most profound transmissions I’ve ever received from the spirit world—a message that continues to unfold in layers, even now. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Years ago, a mentor told me the symbols would reveal their true meaning when I was ready to understand.
The symbols began appearing to me repeatedly. First in dreams, then through chance encounters with strangers, intuitive nudges from friends, and phrases that shimmered with deeper meaning in the books I happened to be reading. At first I tried to dismiss them as mere coincidences, but something within me challenged that idea. It felt as though a thread was being woven through my awareness, an ancestral memory was surfacing, connecting these symbols into something sacred and alive—calling me to remember.
At the heart of this unfolding was the chiropractic philosophy I’ve long resonated with: Above-Down, Inside-Out. This concept teaches that healing begins with Source, moves through the nervous system, and expresses outward into the physical and emotional body. This mirrors the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, which maps divine energy as it flows from the spiritual realms into material form through ten sephirot. Each sephirah corresponds to aspects of the psyche, the body, and the cosmos—reminding us that the human form is not separate from the universe, but an expression of it.
The Tree itself—rooted at the center of my tattoo—is more than just a spiritual diagram. It is my family tree. Its roots reach into generations past, into stories both remembered and buried, connecting the soil of my ancestors.
Just as the Kabbalistic Tree of Life illustrates the descent of divine energy into form, this tree also tells the story of my bloodline—how spirit moves through generations, through bodies, through healing hands and whispered prayers. Its branches extend toward the future, but its power lies in the deep unseen root system beneath—symbolizing my connection to all who came before.
This tree is the living memory of those whose names I know, and those whose voices I can only hear in dreams. It holds the strength of the desert, the endurance of migration, and the sacred intelligence that lives within both nature and name.
The Merkaba appeared next, first in my dreams and then through waking synchronicities. This ancient geometric symbol—two interlocking tetrahedrons spinning in opposite directions—represents the balance of masculine and feminine, spirit and matter, light and form. It is known as the light body, the chariot of ascension, and a multidimensional field of protection and activation. Its form mirrors the heart chakra, where the upward and downward triangles express harmony through duality. The Merkaba also resembles the Star of David, reinforcing the symbolism of divine union, wholeness, and sacred balance. It is a reminder that love is the force that bridges all dualities.
The serpent was another potent presence that emerged. I saw it coiled and rising, spiraling up the spine of the tree, reminding me of the kundalini energy that sleeps at the base of the body, waiting to awaken. In many traditions, the snake represents transformation, rebirth, and the cyclical nature of life. Its presence in the story of Adam and Eve—often misinterpreted—can also be seen as a symbol of awakening, the pursuit of deeper knowledge, and the beginning of self-awareness. Shedding its skin, it reveals the sacred nature of release and renewal. The snake’s presence in my visions reminded me of the body as a channel, a sacred spine through which energy and wisdom rise.
This vision eventually led me to the Star of Life, a six-pointed symbol traditionally associated with emergency medicine. But for me, it carries much deeper meaning. The six points mirror the sacred geometry of the hexagram, representing the harmony between spirit and matter, masculine and feminine, above and below. At its center is the Rod of Asclepius, an ancient healing emblem with a single serpent rising upward—a powerful reflection of regeneration, transformation, and divine healing of the “central channel” or spine. Asclepius was the Greek god of healing and medicine, a figure deeply revered in the ancient world. He was said to possess the power to restore health and even raise the dead.
His temples, known as Asclepieia, were some of the first healing centers—places where people came to be healed through rituals, dreams (incubation), herbal medicine, and energy-like therapies. This makes Asclepius one of the oldest archetypes of the holistic healer. In this symbol, I see the pulse of my purpose and my earthly responsibility to serve and support life.
The final image was the mandala—a design my tattoo artist added intuitively. Though unplanned, it instantly felt essential. Mandalas are ancient representations of wholeness, with a still point at the center and symmetrical patterns radiating outward. They serve as portals for inner reflection and integration. For me, the mandala brought cohesion to all the other symbols, gently guiding them into orbit around a central, quiet truth.
This brings me to the deeper reason I chose to bring these symbols into the body through a tattoo back in 2020.
Tattoos are more than adornment. They are energetic imprints. When created with intention, they serve as somatic anchors—locking emotional and spiritual energy into the tissues. The process of tattooing is ceremonial. It involves breath, sensation, presence, and often, transformation. The meaning we hold in that moment—what we are healing, claiming, remembering—gets etched not just onto the skin, but into the fascia and the memory of the body.
Just as the body holds trauma, it also holds healing. Tattoos can reclaim space after grief or loss. They can mark transitions, honor awakenings, or ground visions that might otherwise feel too ethereal to hold. For those of us attuned to energy, these marks can become living sigils, activated again each time we see or touch them. They remind us, again and again, of who we are and what we’ve chosen to carry forward.
And now, with newfound clarity and a recent discovery, I understand where this wisdom is rooted.
Through ancestral research and DNA revelations, I’ve learned that I carry the lineage of Northeast Mexican Sephardic Jews, descendants of Jews who were forced to flee Spain and Portugal during the Inquisition. Many came to the northern regions of Mexico—Nuevo León, Tamaulipas, Coahuila, and beyond—where they practiced their beliefs in secret. Although unable to be fully proven due to the secrecy of their practices, it is believed that some of these Crypto-Jews even blended Kabbalistic mysticism with covert rituals, preserving sacred knowledge through symbolism, food, candles, and household customs.
At the same time, my Indigenous Mexican-American ancestors were the original stewards of these lands. Rooted in deep earth wisdom, their traditions honored the elements, the cycles of life, the healing power of plants, and the sacredness of the body as part of nature. They, too, participated in the ritual of tattooing as part of sacred rites linked to spiritual initiation. Their cosmologies often echoed the same truths as Kabbalah: interconnectedness, reverence for the unseen, and the body as a vessel for spirit.
These two lineages—Indigenous and Sephardic—came together within my bloodline. Both carried sacred knowledge hidden under centuries of oppression. And now, through the symbols etched into my skin, through the sacred pain of tattooing and the breath that carried me through it, I feel their presence awaken in my cells.
Tattoos are not just art. They are somatic prayers, energetic seals that lock memory, meaning, and spirit into the body. The pain becomes part of the ritual. The breath becomes part of the devotion. And the symbol becomes a living altar—one I carry with me always.
Each mark on my skin carries not only personal significance but ancestral resonance. They remind me that I am a bridge. That I am the prayer they whispered in secret. That I am the breath of their survival and the embodiment of their dreams. And that through healing work, I am honoring them both—those who looked to the stars, and those who listened to the earth.
Each symbol I’ve received through this tattoo carries meaning, not just in form but in frequency. Together, they form a sacred map—of body, cosmos, memory, and healing. They remind me that the physical and the spiritual are not separate. That intention shapes matter. And that through conscious embodiment, we become living altars of the sacred truths we’ve come to remember.
This is only the beginning: a single thread in the vast, woven tapestry of my ancestral memory. My roots stretch across borders, timelines, and forgotten prayers. I believe that I was designed to be the bridge—between earth and sky, past and present, silence and voice. A soul born to weave wholeness from fragments.
An empathic heart, shaped by centuries of survival and love, called to heal the division between spirits, cultures, and lineages. I am here to remember. To reconcile. To reclaim.
And with every step, every symbol, and every breath—I carry them with me.
You’re a mutt just like me!
This brought goosebumps Charlotte!!! Ooofff! I wanted to highlight and restack each and every line!
The more and more I got to know about your tattoo...I just fell in love with it. I don't know why I've always had this intense connection to tattoos and words and visuals?
After the call with you...I went super deep into the commonalities between geometry of multiple cultures..indians have snakes, a tetrahedron and a combination of triangles too...many sigils (we call it yantrams)
The tattoo invoked something deep in me because of my past life connections to these yantrams. Like a deep remembering. Like they've always been a part of my identity you know?