So, I've been thinking a lot on life lately. My mother-in-law has been diagnosed with cancer and is facing chemotherapy treatments in the coming months. I have chosen to shave my head with her as an act of support and empathy, in whatever small way giving up one's vanity can offer. It's silly how attached we become to the physical appearance of ourselves. My boss isn't sure that Human Resources will allow it - it could be against the dress code. I find that both interesting and depressing all at the same time. Why is it so important for us to fit a mold, carved out by society and bred throughout generations? I've pondered this all week. What is it about our hair, that defines us as women, as people?
I've been telling people at work my intentions in the next week to go through with this. So many of them have said what a 'brave' thing it is to do this. Brave? Cutting my hair off - which will grow back within a year or two - and I know it. This isn't brave. Brave is facing the days, and weeks, and months ahead of you in life, knowing you are dying from cancer, and taking the chance on treatment anyway. Brave is preparing your Last Will and Testament and pre-arranging your funeral service. Brave is finding a way to make amends, settle your scores, and giving your Spirit (whatever you believe that to be) adequate attention so as to get to know yourself before departing this Earth. Brave is truly finding, and observing your own mortality. Hair will grow back. The time that we have here, is so fleeting, and so meaningless in the large scheme of aeons - it doesn't grow back. What we do with our time here matters. I believe that by taking this miniscule step, I may just begin a deeper journey into my soul. By shedding something as meaningless, and as meaningful as hair, I'll be forced to ask the questions I am usually able to hide from.
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