There Is Something Spiritual About Cutting Your Hair
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There is something spiritual about cutting hair. A release, a letting go, a transformation, a potential for change. Yes, cutting my beard is a simple act, but it symbolic of a decision, to reaffirm myself and to choose to live.
It started to feel like a physical manifestation of depression. Out of control, wild, something to hide behind. It was so long that it could be grabbed. This is in stark contrast to my years of training/feelings as a martial artist (why give an opponent extra help?). But I didn’t care.
I let go of my training for two months. It’s funny how depression convinces you that it is a good decision to isolate yourself, to stop things that you know are good for you, to give up all together.
To be clear, I am not well, never have been. But it is all relative and all graded on a curve.
My hope that I am trending upwards. That these last six months of hell, are a Dark Night of the Soul. That once I’ve moved house and settled in. I will be able to re-evaluate, and move forward in my strength, whatever that is.
I have returned to training. Not to get better at fighting, but to discover/see clearly the inner demons that I have. Namely, that I quit pre-emptively. When push comes to shove, a little voice tells me that it’s okay to give up to quit, to let the other person win.
This battle is happening internal to me. Sometimes I “win” the match, other times, I submit, but regardless, if I listen to that voice, that is the real loss.
Martial arts is an analogy to life. I see myself quitting when the going gets tough. I see myself listening to that voice. And accepting it as truth. Accepting that I am not enough, that I’m not good enough, that I’m just like my father.
But now, I see that inner demon. And my sight has power. I can start to deconstruct it. I can discover its motives. Then I can choose to act differently, despite how loud it is screaming.
Last night, I cut my beard off. Then I burnt it. Symbolically saying goodbye to at least some of that negative energy that I’ve accumulated over the last six months.
Looking back with some clarity, it is surprising how close I came to giving up. Despite all of the many blessings, I have right in my fingertips. My family, my friends, my art, my (physical) health, my country, my potential.
That depression, those demons, were my own worst enemy. Made worse still because I believe what they were saying.
No more.
This post was inspired by the book, How To Get Your Sh!t Together
