Letting Nature take her course

(This is day 213 of heart finding for me on Instagram. Follow along and find your own...)

(This is day 213 of heart finding for me on Instagram. Follow along and find your own...)

I was writing a post for the past year titled, The Elephant On My Head. It detailed my decision-process-trip through (first) the end of hair color, (second) the beginning of living life with a gray pixie and (third) meeting assoholic comments with dignity. I was ready to hit publish and then I realized that I was the only person with this elephant-on-my-head issue, everyone else didn't think (and hasn't thought) twice about saying whatever they want to say about the way I am presenting my shade of gray. 

That revelation occurred a month ago when I dreamed that I fell off the wagon and gave in, coloring my hair that weird red-brown that I thought was natural before I discovered it was very clearly not. I woke up in a cold sweat (over hair color, no less). 

I dreamed the same dream last night only the skit played through long enough for me to feel ashamed that I started covering up my natural hair again. Ashamed, which to me is a word very close to ascared (my version of scared circa 1976). 

You might think: it's just hair. Turns out: it's not.

Most people ask me the same question: why did you decide to let your hair go gray? At first, I didn't think twice about telling the story. But the story, like all stories, is just a story. It's just my version of events. The reality is:

I did not decide to let my hair turn gray.

My hair turned gray approximately eighteen years ago, on its own

without asking for my permission or approval.

So, to be clear, my role was to simply stop pretending that Nature didn't take the course she took. My role, the only control I could possibly exert, was to take the shortcut, literally, and prune my hair back to the roots. Worth noting: I was not ascared to do this.

I remember the moment I decided I absolutelyhadtodothis. It did not feel impulsive, it felt mandatory. Not coincidentally, it happened in between sessions with my shaman. When she saw me, newly pruned, she asked if I knew that hair holds memory. Did you know that? It was news to me, but it also instantly and clearly explained why I felt so light and free and grounded. I didn't just release hair, I released the commitment required to color it, the feeling of disgust every time my roots peeked through, and that constant nagging feeling that something about me was off, along with 40 other revelations and counting. 

It has taken me a year to share all of this. It has taken me a good year to get accustomed to the subtle but very real changes this continues to usher through. As you can imagine, none of this has anything to do with hair and everything to do with knowing that I am more than meets the eye. 

I just want to remind you that you are, too. 

You know. 

And I know. 

We have always known what's true.  

If you need further guidance...here's August's message: 

Would you like to receive a year of love in the mail? Now you can...

Would you like to receive a year of love in the mail? Now you can...