I can't remember the last time I didn't have a panic attack when someone would come near my hair with scissors, but I would guess it's been since 2012.
I grew up reading a lot of fantasy/historical fiction and it never fails, hair always has a part to play. Think Game of Thrones: Silver hair belongs to a specific family with specific talents, while wildlings with red hair are "kissed by fire."
It is not my fault this messaging has been relentless since I was at my most impressionable, but as I got older, I started to connect with my hair on a different level. I studied world religions in college and almost every culture or faith has some connection to hair. There is a universal symbolism in it just as there is in music and art.
Yogis believe hair is our antennae and that one should let their hair grow until it stops. They believe the knot they tie on the top of their head is to help focus their energies.
So I fell in love with the romanticism and ideals about hair, I let it grow and now I have 3.5 feet of hair. It happens.
I know it's out of control... If even a single strand sheds from my head, it looks like 50...
and I. shed. everywhere.
I cannot step through my bedroom barefoot without feeling a strand between my toes.
My hairstyles have become limited and I can only wash it about once every four days.
So I am cutting it finally. It's time to let it go.
In many ways, it has helped me channel some powers. This has been a difficult few years, and I know my hair has given me strength because I believed it did.
We give power to what we believe in, and I, like so many others before me, believe in the spirituality of hair. However, this life is not permanent and there is a time to let all things go. *sniff sniff*