Haircutasana (The Haircut Pose)

It seems that my regular practice of yoga has carefully, if not strategically, unstitched old wounds and plucked out each and every emotion I’ve ever felt, kept, heard, spoke, touched, held in, spilled out, ate, slept through, laughed at, nurtured or spit on. And now, here I am in all my yogic glory, feeling like I’m crumbling into a pile of matchsticks on my bedroom floor, waiting for someone, anyone, to light a match -- to ignite the impending fire that will certainly reconfigure my being on such a deep molecular level that when I finally rise up from the ash, I will truly, madly, infinitely believe that I am a Phoenix, that I do in fact have wings and that I have no fear of flying.

There is just so much crap flinging around my internal landscape (makes me giggle every time) that I don’t know which piece of crappy emotion or memory or feeling (are feelings the same as emotions?) to go after first. I think it’s heavy. All of it together. I suppose if I started to break it apart, to sort the garbage into piles of compost, recycling, trash and reusable I could better see what I’m dealing with. 

The more I practice, the more I suck. The more I stay focused on my mat, the more I dig into old wounds and uncertainties. But whatever, good for me. It's likely a good thing to get suckier at something as this will certainly keep you humble and keep your nasty little ego in line. This is what I hope for anyways. 

I cut my own hair this morning. Why, you ask?? For numerous reasons, I think. I woke up feeling kookier than I usually do and I read an article about travelling last night in my mad fit of laying awake when I wished I was sleeping like a chubby, drooly baby. The article talked about all the usual and cliche points of being a traveller -- you have to make time for it, it doesn't have to be to a far away land, it keeps you open to new experiences, you have to save for it, and so on. We all know this. How does this relate to cutting my own hair? Well, I am planning a couple of trips this year and, as the article so intelligibly mentioned, I must skip the coffee at Starbucks and make my own, which I interpreted as skipping the $65 haircut at the salon and cut it myself. I'm creative, I have an eye for a straight line, cutting my own hair cannot be so hard. The last time I cut my own hair (there was a period of about a year in my early twenties, when I was a piss-poor art student) it lead to shaving it right off. I am confident that this new found adventure in hair snipping will not lead to a bald head. Fingers crossed.

It turned out well. I am quite pleased with myself and I know, for certain, that if I should decide to go to a hair salon anytime in the next year, the stylist will unpleasantly furl his or her lip whilst grabbing and letting my hair fall into crooked place then ask me who cuts my hair. They will not understand. It's a mini adventure. It's taking the weight of your life into your own hands and making it lighter. It's taking responsibility for who you are, via the crown of dead cells that rest, ever so lightly, on the crown of your head. 

So maybe it was yoga that lead me to cutting my own hair. Maybe it was saving money. Likely a combination of both. What I do know is that with each passing day I am beginning to feel more and more myself -- more of the woman I've been digging around to find for the past thirty odd years. This year has already presented me with such abundance and such heartache, which I am eternally grateful for. My belief is that when you are certain that you are on the right path, not questioning every moment, experience and emotion, that life and the universe will present you with everything and everyone you need. You spend less time looking for what you need and more time trusting your instinct to keep moving forward. The pieces are there, ready for you to pick up along the way. And if you need a haircut, pick up a pair of scissors and snip the weight of the world away. You will feel so much better!