A decade later, I sat on an oversized vinyl chair in a muggy tattoo shop with my elbows resting on the cold metal arms. A tattoo gun buzzed loudly, filling the remaining space in the room. Dipping the needle into a black inkwell then pressing it against my skin, I winced. Half at the sting and half at the thought of enduring it for longer. But I had more than committed. Spending a week of late nights analyzing lyrics to Beatles songs, I was drawn to Hey Jude and “let it out and let it in,” was permanently etched in script on the inside of my right foot. People always ask me what it means. "It," quite literally, means love.
Twenty years later, I took a weekend trip to London, England. Minding the gap, I had just enough time to catch a Beatles Walking Tour of London, hopping on the Underground subway system to Tottenham Court Road Station then hiking over to Dominion Theatre, dodging cherry red double-decker buses along the way. The tour guide named Richard, who resembled an Oompa-Loompa in size, stature, and entertainment value, was collecting payment when I arrived. Nine jingling pounds from each guest, he zipped the heavy coins into his sagging fanny pack. We relived Beatlemania, searching for Paul McCartney around his office grounds, marveling over the studio where Hey Jude was recorded, and taking photos crossing Abbey Road.
It was one of those times when things that don’t seem real – or appear to be entirely too far beyond your grasp – suddenly become tangible and available. At that moment, a slight – but very impactful – shift in perception and possibilities occurs. Although they were John Lennon’s least favorite Hey Jude lyrics, they are some of my most, and they are applicable to all: