So much can be said with one pair of scissors...one tube of goo~

Change.

Forward Motion.

Wandering Feet.

The sense that something--ANYTHING--is not stagnating in life..

These are the things that I was thinking of as I brought out the scissors today. (And the red red RED dye). For some reason (no, this will not surprise those of you who know me well!) during times of change or otherwise emotional/ milestone seasons/ chapters in my life, I change my hair. Yes, you heard me...my HAIR.

Sometimes I have gone softer...a brown--gentle and unassuming--gently grazing my shoulders. It was a season of steady practicality...the university years of study and diligence...the LU code among many others was strictly adhered to...brown seemed fitting...neautral...earthy.

Then there was the brazen blonde phase....hello Los Angeles...bring it on! Bright and shining; a new chapter filled with possibilities, and why the heck not go for a brilliant and bold change?Ante up, awaken to new possibilities and broader horizons--lighten up (quite literally)...and, yes, we are still (sort of) talking about hair...

So, the long locks of childhood...those sweet, sturdy braids...were soon shorn for the sake of style...something more grown up...sophisticated...sleek. It was necessary (of course). Then, once the separation from childhood seemed sufficiently solidified...the lustrous locks were reinstated; once again given free reign. A restoration of sorts....for a time...only to then be whacked off in a lop of liberation...a claiming of my freedom to choose...*yes, about my hair*

Short signified simple. Long lent itself to a portrait of femininity and grace. Yet there were exceptions in my mind (there always are, aren't there?) Short has also meant strong and independent. Long also harkening to times of healing and wholeness after a shorn winter--although the shorn winter stood for freedom from the old dead locks of summer that had grown heavy and cumbersome--too difficult to manage. (Hair...yes?)

So much can be said with one pair of scissors...one tube of goo.

Tonight the mirror reflects a radiant, redheaded wanderer. Short and touseled...quite messy in fact...the image staring back seems jarring at first. The dead ends have been cut out...the length is lessened...weight has been lifted. Simplicity reigns...yet not without cost...for she will miss the beautiful braids, the cascade of curls tumbling down her back. Stark, blunt, razored edges abruptly end...refusing to caress her shoulders. They demand to stand alone, independent and free. The almost violent vibrancy of the red...is shocking enough....bold enough...to keep her awake-- and make her feel alive...and life, to her, is more important than anything else...( yes, even hair)~