I actually have a tattoo on the left side of my chest that says

Hear the words of Michael Chandler, the warrior of the cage, who declared with sincerity: “I actually have a tattoo on the left side of my chest that says ‘Blessed.’ It represents how blessed I’ve been in my life and how thankful I am for all that I have.” These words are more than an athlete’s reflection—they are the song of a man who has felt both triumph and trial, and who carries his gratitude not only in his mind but carved upon his flesh, close to the beating of his heart.

The first jewel in this saying is the recognition of being blessed. To be blessed is not merely to have possessions or victories, but to acknowledge that life itself is gift. Chandler’s tattoo is more than ink—it is a covenant, a daily reminder written on his body that his achievements, his family, his health, and his path are not owed, but bestowed. In ancient times, warriors bore markings upon their skin to declare their allegiances, their gods, or their victories. Chandler’s mark declares allegiance to gratitude, a reminder that no matter the outcome of battle, he is already rich.

The second flame is his profound sense of thankfulness. Gratitude that is spoken may fade with the tongue, but gratitude written on the body is eternal testimony. Chandler has made his heart visible to the world, binding his spirit to the discipline of thanksgiving. This echoes the wisdom of old—that the heart must be trained in remembrance, lest it drift into pride or despair. By wearing the word “Blessed” upon his chest, he pledges to never forget.

The third truth is the placement of this word upon his heart. The chest is the seat of courage, the fortress of life itself. To inscribe “Blessed” here is to anchor gratitude at the very center of his being. Just as knights once carried crests upon their armor to declare their lineage and loyalty, Chandler carries his gratitude upon his body as shield and sword. It is not hidden, but displayed, a vow that his strength comes not from arrogance but from thankfulness.

History gives us a mirror in the story of Epictetus, the Stoic philosopher who was once a slave. Though bound by chains and denied freedom, he taught that the blessed life is found not in what one owns but in how one sees. His teachings, like Chandler’s tattoo, remind us that gratitude transforms even hardship into strength. Epictetus bore no ink upon his chest, but his words were carved into the hearts of his disciples, a living testimony of thankfulness amidst suffering.

The fourth jewel is the heroic humility in Chandler’s reflection. He could speak of victories, of belts, of glory in the arena—but instead, he speaks of being thankful for all that he has. This humility is the true mark of greatness. Many champions fall when they believe themselves invincible, forgetting the blessings that brought them forth. But the one who remains thankful, even in victory, stays grounded, anchored to what truly matters.

The lesson is clear: live as one who is blessed, and carry gratitude close to your heart. You need not ink your body, but you must engrave thankfulness upon your soul. Remember daily that life itself is a gift, that victories are not owed but granted, that every breath is a blessing. In doing so, you will remain strong not only in triumph, but also in trial.

Practically, this means pausing each day to name aloud what you are thankful for. Carry symbols or reminders of your blessings, whether in word, token, or habit. Do not let your heart forget, for pride and despair lie in wait to erase your gratitude. Instead, like Michael Chandler, keep the truth near your heart: you are blessed. Let this truth steady your courage and strengthen your path, whether in battle, in work, or in daily life.

Thus his words become an ancient teaching: mark your life with gratitude, carry it as armor, and let the world know by your heart and your actions that you are blessed. For the thankful spirit is unshaken, the blessed heart is unconquerable, and the life lived in gratitude is the life lived in fullness.