I went from almost being able to sit on my hair to a long bob in the span of 45 minutes.
I needed a change. I needed to cut the past from me, and begin fresh. I needed to know that I would survive, still fierce and free.
And… I liked it.
It’s not easier to care for, by any means. I can no longer skip a few days between washes, although arrow root is my best friend some hectic mornings. I’ve also fallen in love with the beach-babe wave my hair naturally has when it is is shorter.
Much of my resistance to cutting my hair was a hold-over of my mother always pressuring me. For the past 15+ years, I’ve had long hair (varying lengths, but always below the shoulder) and refused to cut it because that was the expectation my mother’s generation had.
It was a surprise to me when I went and did it. An impulse out of the blue that I acted on, much to the nervousness of the stylist. I know she sees many people go for a cut and then lament it, but hair is hair, and it grows. I have to admit that much of my resistance to cutting my hair was a hold-over of my mother always pressuring me. For the past 15+ years, I’ve had long hair (varying lengths, but always below the shoulder) and refused to cut it because that was the expectation my mother’s generation had. Women of a certain age should have short hair. Nonsense to that!
However, I did see a photograph of a beautiful older woman with silver hair in a long bob. Her expression was one of fierce determination. She was not finished with living her life, and damn if she wasn’t living it to her terms.
I admire that.
My haircut, on my terms. My life, on my terms.
And right now, I’m digging the sea salt spray and scarlet leaves on the shore vibes this year is bringing.
Mysterious ecstasy of feather strokes on my skin
kindling dormant embers of Divinity within.
Divine magnetism drives me forward, pursuing this goal,
but this path to union, to wholeness, can take its tool.
Arcane fascination is a joy and delight,
Seductive charm bathed in sensual light.
Enigmatic Trickster! My fire, my soul,
beautiful feathered bird spun from alchemical gold.
The mysterious ecstasy of feather strokes on my skin
kindles dormant embers of Divinity within.
*The art work that went along with this ‘Witch name’ generator was lovely in itself, but the purpose was rather banal. Really. “Hello, I’m Transcendent Obsession, pleasure to meet you.” And yet, there is a certain playfulness the terms engender, and a certain calling to enliven the qualities within both myself and daily life. Perhaps not so much a ‘name’ generator so much as a theme for the day.
Worth further exploration.
A fragile sort of melancholy has settled around me, a rain-spun shroud of mist and dreams that is waiting desperately for the sun so that I can shrug it off and fly into golden summer days.
This image captures my mood beautifully. Just waiting for the skies to clear, and sitting, thinking… with occasional lapses into pondering.
Doesn’t the year know that I have plans for my free time? I have almost two free months for myself after this school year ends (in 7 work days, and I am counting): and time is taking its merry time bringing me across that line. It has been a long year — a marathon year — and I am ready to close it.
But for now, I must wait for the rain to end and for the 9th of June to do that. In the meantime, I shall continue to ponder, and be grateful that my feathers are waterproof.
I walk amongst the thorns that I wear upon my brow.
I clothe myself in the spun-silk of white blossoms budding out on spiked branches and smile with purple juice from berries ripe-burst upon my lips.
I dream the shadows.
I walk in candle light down mirrored corridors, where I catch hidden glimpses of my soul — waiting — in the bridal chamber between heaven and hell.
the sun rose, though it was veiled by rain clouds and falling autumn leaves.
I went to work. I read (with pride) my daughter’s Facebook post schooling those who dared to blame yesterday’s results on people who ‘threw away their vote on a third party candidate’. (I’ve been a card carrying Green longer than her friends have been alive.)
I listened to people gloat and to those who were depressed. To both, I wanted to whisper, “Wake up and smell the Pleroma.” It is all just an illusion…
Today, I determined that I will live as I lived on Monday. I will speak my mind; support those who have fallen; say ‘no’ when it is needed and to whom needs to hear it; I will dance under sun and moonlight, whispering heresies to the trees; and I will continue to work toward humanity waking up to its birthright — no matter how much they may not deserve it. (Shades of A. Hamilton…)
Tomorrow, the sun will shine. My dog will greet me with a smile, and my cats will cozy up to me, and I will go to work and hope for more small behavioural breakthroughs with my students. And I will resist creatively… and fiercely.
I will be the witch in service to the land — though it poison some as it heals others.
These words have brought me comfort and no small sense of hope as I reflect on the past few years. With these words as my guide, I can see my fallow times as needed pauses in nature’s rhythmical motion and not mere idleness.
Nature is ever at work building & pulling down, creating & destroying, keeping everything whirling & flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another.
With the (dubious) benefit of hindsight, I can also see these fallow times as treading water. For a long time, I had thought these fallow time were low-tides… all creative energy, inspiration, and desire was gone. It felt like the well was dry, and all that was stretched out before me was a barren mudflat. This summer, my view of reality shifted. In this refocusing, I saw that I was really treading water in a high tide of external demands, worries, and responsibilities. It was the act of moving that helped me start this shift in perception. Like the tide going out on the shore, hidden treasures have been uncovered and for me, rediscovered.
This season is giving me the chance to back track to myself. I can look at all the parts exposed. I can marvel at what I find; examine each thing and choose whether or not I will keep it in my life. It is a rich landscape, filled with treasures and teeming with potential to be explored.