In my search for a tattoo that carries a special and deeply personal meaning for me, I first asked myself a fundamental question:
Who am I — and by which principles do I live?
I have always tended to place consideration for others first. Whether in friendships or, most notably, in romantic relationships, it has always been important to me that the person I love and value feels happy and at ease. Only after that do I come myself. Only then can I find inner calm.
I consciously avoid conflicts. I choose my words carefully so that situations do not escalate, but instead protect what matters most to me. Often, this means holding back emotions, clenching my teeth, and enduring things quietly. Not out of weakness, but out of the conviction that a better time will come again — a time when I can say: it was worth it. This is the moment for which I endured.
This is how I have always been — and how I will likely remain. Even though I am aware that this path is not always easy and may not always be good for myself. But it is my nature. It is the path I have chosen.
With these thoughts in mind, I wanted to connect my tattoo idea with my fascination, admiration, respect, and deep sense of connection to Japan. I therefore began searching specifically for Japanese characters and concepts that reflect my values.
That is how I came across the kanji 我慢 — Gaman.
It is composed of the characters 我 (ga) — “I,” “ego” — and 慢 (man) — “arrogance,” “conceit.” What deeply moved me was the apparent contradiction: two characters that individually carry egocentric meanings form, together, a word that can mean enduring pain, discomfort, and inner burdens without complaint.
In this character, I recognize myself.
Not as an ideal, but as a lived reality.
I wish to carry this tattoo with pride — not as decoration, but as a companion. As a reminder of the principle by which I live my life every day, and as a quiet commitment to the path I have chosen for myself.
MADARA
Through this report, I could quietly yet unmistakably feel how sincerely Danny confronted himself and arrived at the word “Gaman.”
His attitude—restraining himself, considering others, avoiding conflict, and yet enduring while believing in a hopeful future—is not weakness. I see it as strength, and as a form of resolve deeply rooted in one’s humanity.
The kanji “Gaman” is not merely a word that means enduring suffering. It carries within it the will to continue forward, believing in the light that lies beyond hardship and in the possibility of a better tomorrow. I strongly felt how naturally this word overlaps with Danny’s view of life.
Receiving these thoughts, I will, as a calligrapher and as a fellow human being, carefully consider how to write “Gaman” for Danny—pouring my entire heart and spirit into its composition.
