It’s only money if you have it. The same holds true for hair.
It seems easier to give when money abounds. If I’m not worried about paying for groceries or my electricity being shut off, I’m more willing to share, donate, or give money to someone in need.
If, however, I hit a point where things are tight, and I’ve been there, I tend to close down, count my pennies, roll my quarters. I’m careful because the money I have needs to provide for those in my little tribe. I suppose there’s a bit of desperation, although I know that is relative based on my normal.
I was talking with my friend today about hair. I cut my hair a little over a year ago. I went from very long to very short because…I wanted to. I’d grown sick of dealing with my hair and I wanted a different, unique look, so I cut it all off and donated it. My friend commented on how brave it is for me to wear my hair so short.
It’s really not a big deal. I like it and it’s just hair, right?
Stacey’s hair is long, a little past her shoulders, and beautiful. She wears it in a ponytail while we spin and it swings from side to side. You can tell she likes her hair. It is part of her look, not in a conceited way, but it’s part of her, important.
Cancer stole Stacey’s hair ten years ago, she did without, so it’s not “just” hair to her. She has a completely different perspective. She’s been to that edge, fought and survived. Her hair is a crown, a sign of her vitality and the battle she courageously endured.
I cut my hair one day with barely a thought. I needed a change. Clearly it didn’t mean much because I had never done without. It was a lovely compliment that Stacey finds my short hair brave, but it’s not.
She told me she lost all of her hair during treatment and a great memory during her recovery was when she could finally see little wisps of hair out of the corner of her eye. Stacey was rolling quarters during that time in her life, buckled down and doing everything to stay afloat. Everything, including her hair, was precious.
A haircut, that’s nothing. Growing long, healthy, beautiful hair as your body rebuilds and survives is so very brave.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Much Earned Rest.
courage health life meaning pain patience Spirit thankful women cancer hair health hope life people self expression surviving thoughts women
also- your title: mohair coat… so meant to be… I grew up with a mohair blanket my parents bought on an exotic cruise – an item treasured over the years in our home that meant the world to us…familiar to me as a comforting blanket of my own hair! …hehe….go figure:)
I would so like to say that I sensed that…but, I didn’t. Odd though, it was the first title that popped into my mind. I’m so glad it is special and familiar.
The growing back of hair is a visual positive confirmation of your precious life. Soon everything becomes as precious. Thank you, my thoughtful friend Tracy, I got you sooo much.
I thought about our conversation all the way home and the irony of me being brave. Got you too.
i suppose bravery is relative…
interesting reflection/reflecting on such things
nice weaving, such nice weaving you do
I am hair deficient. I could be a monk from the middle ages. But there was a time when I had hair. I parted it. I combed it. Gone long ago as in Gone With the Wind.
Hahahaha. Monk from the middle ages isn’t a bad look. Hopefully you appreciated it before the wind took it away. Thanks for reading.
It is always a pleasure.