I am not my hair,,,,,or Am I?

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Beautiful, freedom in me-ness, inspiration, light, love, me

somedays you just want to end it all and pull it out

Sometimes I brush my hair and sometimes I don’t. Maybe like the beautiful India Arie , I am not my hair. But maybe like the strong Samson , my hair is where my strength is at. Either way my hair always tells a story brushed or not brushed. In a world where most things are decided for me , either by superiors or by fate, my hair is the one thing I wont leave to chance.
Growing up mama never wanted me to cut my hair so it was left to grow quite long. From when it was just short then being stretched and straightened with a hot stone. After the stone era came the heavy iron comb that had to be placed on hot coals before being used to comb through my poor wild mane. Then when I was a little bit grown I graduated to a relaxing cream. Oh how I always looked forward to the weekend when I’d undo the tight cornrows only to find myself pinned between mama’s thighs on a Sunday night as I had them plaited back in . I grew so attached to this hair that when mama finally decided to hack it all off after I had made her mad , I was nothing short of devastated. For days I walked around as if it had been my head that had been cut off. I think at that time I felt indeed like Samson. Despondent, weak and torn apart. Fast forward a couple of years . I have realised that although I love my hair, it is only hair. It never stops growing until a few minutes after we die. If it’s cut , it’ll still grow back.

And now rather than it being my strength, my hair is my freedom and I let it be my inspiration. The way my hair looks does not say much in the way of what I am like as a person. It is merely an expression of the mood I happen to be in at that particular moment. Moods might change as they will but the person I am will not. If a person liking or accepting me depends on the way my hair looks, then they might miss out on this beautiful personality because of spikes or nappy hair. I colour it , cut it ,bond it with foreign hair sometimes. Anything that makes me happy. I’m sure hair is not meant to define us but rather to bring us all together in the world-wide fight against dandruff and receding hairlines. Also to showcase our individuality and in my case my peculiarity. At the end of the day it’s not about how so and so feel about my particular hairstyle. It’s about how I feel about the style I’m rocking, how much its inspiring my days to be better. After all life is way too short to have boring hair.

you are beautiful

No, I am not moody!!!! no. Really!

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capetown, freedom in me-ness, health, inspiration, love, me, sunshine

me-dom

There is a special place deep in the pit of my being where I retreat to in times of prolonged intense discomfort. Stripped of all emotion and baggage of worldly possession including family. It is a place called Medom. A place of absolute solace and freedom in my me-ness. My individuality.

It is imperative that I constantly centre myself by visiting this place. For what good am I as a friend, as a lover or as a relation if I have forgotten to be good to me. The real me, not the one that I potray to be accepted in my numerous different circles in society.

As a friend, and such a good friend I have learnt to be. Being there for others whenever they need me ,regardless of the fact that they might not be there for me as much, takes a lot. Holding a hand here and there when I’m needed to. Listening to problems and then shouldering them takes a lot. And those times when what you understand from what I’m saying isn’t what I want you to understand when I’m saying it. Hope you understand. No, I’m definately not moody if i excuse myself from drinks at 5pm, there is a place I have to be. An appointment with my me-ness in Medom.

So, no I’m not moody , the me that you think you know is merely deep within the real me for servicing. It all started when I understood that it’s ok to nurture and look out for my soul every now and again out of the hundred times i tend a gentle hand to all the other souls around me. You see ,I cannot take you with me to medom because that is bringing baggage and responsibility along. If you are with me, then I’m obliged to tend to you as a lover or friend.

No, I ain’t moody at all, I’m just recharging my batteries by switching off to the deafening buzz of a world that won’t notice if I stumble and am subsequently left behind. I am retreating to a place where the air is crisp with honesty. Where the trees are laden with hope. Where the earth is saturated with peace. A place where i can tap and listen to the pulse of positivity coursing through the veins of my existance. A place that is purely my own . A place I truely belong.