Well, babies, I've done the unthinkable. I've chopped my hair off. I know, I know - it isn't exactly NBC Nightly News material. But it's kind of a big deal - for starters, whenever it would get cut past my shoulders, my behavior would resort to epic, psychotic proportions. Crying, screaming, never wanting to leave the house again - I've put my hairdressers (and dear friends) through hell. And for what? Was it vanity? Fear of the unknown? Insecurities? Or do I want to pretend I'm above all of that gender-specific behavior and say I'm just taking the story of Samson really, REALLY seriously?
If you think about it, the story of Samson is more than a Biblical story. If you ignore the fact that yet another woman is portrayed as a temptress and liar (it's okay, Delilah, you're in good company), the story serves as a panicked remark for the fear of the unknown. To step outside of ourselves and deal with the consequences of our mistakes. When Samson lost his hair, he lost his strength and was taken prisoner - but literally and proverbially. Did Samson get his strength back because God decreed it, or did he get it back because he managed to "get over himself?"
That "get over" yourself part is something I think we all struggle with. Unfortunately, our culture has been turned into a series of competitions (what? You thought the reality TV circuit was a coincidence?) where there are blatant winners and losers. Unless, you're seven. Then everyone gets a trophy and you have to learn the lesson the hard way - when you wake up from a good night's sleep and some crazy bitch has lopped your hair off. To deal with this constant stress of wanting AND needing to be first, we think we need to hold on to certain rituals: sitting at the same table in a restaurant, going to the same coffee house, keeping our hair long...never realizing that the opportunity to learn and change has presented itself in the form of a minor risk.
Why not take the risk? Why not cut my hair up to my ears? Why not put off school to start my own business and finish my novel? That "why not" is no longer accepted in our culture. Our pioneer spirit - the craving for the unknown landscape - has been replaced by the "work until you die" attitude. The "keep with the status quo" attitude. Is life too shaky to take chances? Is the American Dream running out of open spots? Do we have room for chances? Willa Cather is shaking her head from the ghostly plane.
Unfortunately, I can't answer any of these questions today. And I refuse to because it's July 23rd (my cat's birthday; he also took a chance. On me. I'd like to think it worked out well for the both of us), the Starbucks is good, and it's a beautiful Saturday. I'm blessed to have a place to live, a car that runs, and my bills paid (er...for this month, anyway). Besides, this questions need to be asked over time - as we peer over our little nests and contemplate if we are going to go "splat" should we decide to jump. As I tell my frosh - "Fly, baby birdies!" But that "splat" sounds mighty scary. And who wants that as their end?
So for now, I'll test my courage with my hair. Samson, eat your heart out.
No comments:
Post a Comment