The Ink

The octopus emerges fluidly and slowly from a tiny crevice in the wavy ocean floor littered with sand. A beam of light powers its way down from the surface, illuminating anything in its path. Skeptical, the octopus treks cautiously and slowly through a clear, aqua-blue, salty water in search of purpose. As a defense mechanism, the octopus exudes a dark, milky ink-like substance from its glands as potential enemies approach. The ink disorients and subdues the senses of any creature nearby, allowing the octopus to continue its journey for purpose.

Guiding the octopus are eight long, flowing arms with suction cups beneath, each of which serves a different purpose. They all work harmoniously, but disparately in fulfilling the needs of the octopus. I like to refer to them as the Eight Arms of Ardor.

Arm 1, the Right Arm of Imagination, tells stories of intrigue and mystery, of joy and of pain. Each line, each turn, and each picture are part of a bigger story. It starts conversations. It tells each story through a riddle of sorts. It’s not always forthcoming with information and the picture is not always clear.

Next is Arm 2, the Left Arm of Ferocity, which protects those around it with intensity and flare. It knows they all deserve better. It offers rewards for courage and presents a path to freedom. It’s prepared to fight for continued life at all costs, even if that means bloodshed.

Continuing, Arm 3 is the Right Arm of Impetuous, which is impulsive and reacts on a whim. It’s addictive and a bit unhealthy. It attaches itself, like suction cups to whatever draws near, and it keeps coming back for more, with no end in sight.

Arm 4, the Left Arm of Exclusivity, embraces its individuality, its uniqueness. It mesmerizes with glowing visions never seen. It is the showman of the bunch and it understands its place. It knows it has great potential and star power.

Then there is Arm 5, the Right Arm of Agony, which gets high from the pain and gains pleasure through repeated discomfort. It perseveres and grows through adversity. Like a phoenix it rises above the flames. It holds the pain and is willing to share the stinging, swelling, soreness, and sickness with anyone who dares approach.

Back to the left we have Arm 6, the Left Arm of Suppression, which covers all the scars with a mask of redirection. It conceals the pain and is glad to pretend that nothing ever happened, even to the point of self-absorption.

Next is Arm 7, the Right Arm of Memorialization, which commemorates a lost friend or loved one through words, symbols, pictures and subtle reminders, so they never fade from memory. It grabs hold and won’t let go. It clinches tight and never wants to forget. It preserves.

Finally, Arm 8, the Left Arm of Simulation falls in line with what all the other arms are doing. It falls victim to this copy-cat culture, which is void of originality and creativeness. It can be of use, but only if what its copying is useful.

The arms of the octopus are wondrous and work with each other in one beautiful aesthetic where form meets function. This creature is a combination of grace and savagery, dancing about through peaks and troughs, on upside down waves. Its stories carry pain, sadness, grief, and anger, while also providing comfort, elation, delight, and bliss. This creature is a beautiful work of art.

The Ink.