Fifteen years back, while shooting a game for the Israeli soccer documentary I was producing at the time, I got a henna tattoo of one of the teams’ logos stenciled onto the inside of my forearm.

And I kind of loved it. But I was also pretty sure I wouldn’t be getting a real tattoo any time soon, as there were very few things I thought were excellent ideas ten years before that I still thought were excellent then, and I definitely didn’t want to get stuck for a lifetime with permanent body art I’d later come to regret.

But, at the same time, I also noted that if I did get a tattoo, it would just be the text ‘Amor Fati‘ on that same inner forearm spot.

Over the last year, Jess made good on her own long-held desire to get a few tattoos. And, frankly, I’ve been jealous. They look amazing (and, on her, super hot). And they’ve reminded me that, actually, my concern about whether I’d be happy with any choice over the long haul increasingly seems incorrect. Fifteen years later, I still feel certain that, if I did get a tattoo, it would indeed be that inner forearm ‘Amor Fati.’ I’ve even regularly looked back at a favorite Nietzsche quote about the phrase at least monthly in all the years since:

“My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it, but love it.”

So, increasingly, I’m thinking maybe I should get the tattoo. I’m holding out at least until the fall to further contemplate. But, as of right now, I’d say the odds of going for it look pretty good.