Yesterday I chopped off my hair. It felt a lot like ending a relationship. We had been through so much together. I recently was reading a book that said that it actually takes a tremendous amount of love to end a relationship. It’s that last push that allows you to let go and move on. It’s in that period, though, that we tend to focus on the good. If I look back I can see I have always done this. As I’m about to break up with someone I think about their laugh, the snuggles. When I’m moving suddenly all I can see are the big closets or the shimmering bay windows. When I’m leaving a job I focus on the steady paycheck or flexible schedule. At every end there was always that period of reflection where I exclusively focused on the positive. I no longer saw the bullet holes in the bay windows or remembered the knot of anxiety in my stomach that was the price of the steady paycheck.
So this last week has been the same with my hair. I loved the way it felt on my back. I loved that I could curl it. It felt so delicious to have someone play with it. I forgot about it taking 10 hours to air dry, how much shampoo I had to buy, and all the old energy that I was carrying around like a potato sack each day. All I could think about was I’m afraid I’ll look ugly if I cut it off.
Just when I was about to recoil from my commitment to donate my hair, I was at a meeting and in walked a woman who I know has cancer sporting her new wig. Then of course, I felt like a selfish tool. My hair will grow back. It’s only 8 inches. Why am I being so lame?
Today I can just appreciate the humanness of it all. I was simply full of love so that I could take that final leap of courage to let go. Sometimes it’s the small things in life that give us opportunities to remember the big lessons.
Whether you are in a relationship you want to let go of, are in the process of letting go, or recalling your own letting go’s of the past, it’s all in love and perfect.
I have two pony tails of 8 inches each to donate to the Pantene Great Lengths program. I get to be a little lighter, release the energy my old hair carried, and someone somewhere, perhaps who doesn’t even have their cancer diagnosis today, will get to wear a wig made of my hair. Today I trust that releasing the old makes way for the new.