I know journeys are bumpy. In reaching one’s destination, there may be pot holes and unforeseen barriers.
But what if one realizes, in the middle of the road, that there really isn’t a need to go any further? What if one sees other roads in the distance, and would much rather travel them than continue down a trivial path? I thought about this while staring in the mirror with scissors lying on the bathroom sink.
It was time for a trim.
In a previous post, I had mentioned that locking my hair was more than a vain hairstyle. It was an external representation of a self-discovering journey I’ve begun while living here in New York City, a place that has presented so many amazing opportunities for me in only a year’s time. Like the city, I knew that these locks weren’t going to be glamorous all the time, and I tried to prepare myself for the innumerable frizzy days that lay ahead. For seven months I allowed my locks to form, relishing in the moments when they were newly twisted and I saw their growth, and surviving in other times when all I could do was contain the unruly coils under a loose hat.
I soon began to realize that rather than becoming a reflection of my inner journey, they were becoming an ever-consuming journey in themselves, oftentimes distracting me from the things that were more important. Although I had known the beginning year would be the most difficult, I began to reconsider whether or not many years with a head of flowing locks was what I wanted to look forward to.
So, rather than continue an endless debate, I decided to remedy the situation by removing it.
Truthfully, this cut was incredibly liberating, and I am so relieved that I do not have to worry about bad hair days. The life journey stills goes on. It is far from finished. But the farther I continue, I’m realizing the less things I need. As with most trips, the simplest path is often the most rewarding one.