I've had a few requests for more pics of my tattoos. Why did I do it, especially twenty-five years ago when there was no tattoo renaissance to support my actions? Well, a wise old man in a dream used his finger to marked my throat with a swastika so that I could speak up about the innocence of the symbol (I had that one tattooed). He told me to redeem it so that it would strike love in all hearts. A tall order in a culture suffering from swastikaphobia. A tall order for one person to achieve but the gods are gracious and have sent me many helpers--the Friends of the Swastika. My arms became billboards advertizing the history of the swastika in many ancient cultures, as night after night I dreamed of more sacred swastikas. And the public reaction was, and still is at times, rejection, ridicule, disapproval. I walked into it with my eyes wide open, guess I craved marytrdom. I knew we all needed healing.