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Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Lightness

I've recently taken to trimming my own hair.  Somewhere, my father is appalled by the mere suggestion of this.  But it's less dramatic than it seems.  I have curly, wayward hair and it is usually in need of a bit of taming.  I evaluate haircuts on the spectrum between horrible and tolerable.  So the idea that I could just take a bit off here and there not only saves me the expense of making it to a salon, but I also am finally trusting that I am the own expert of my own hair.

In my past, I've had a few dramatic haircuts.  The best haircuts have been the ones where I walk away feeling as if my head is pounds lighter.  A weight has been cut away.

Unfortunately, scissors can't cut away all of my problems.  It can be difficult to find the lightness in life.  This week I've been wading through an inability to help friends, the problematic nature of long-distance dating, and an exhaustion that won't seem to lift.
As for mortals, their days are like grass; 
   they flourish like a flower of the field; 

for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, 

   and its place knows it no more. 

But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting 

   on those who fear him, 

   and his righteousness to children’s children, 

to those who keep his covenant 

   and remember to do his commandments.
 (Psalm 130) 
Lightness means to be illuminated.  It means letting the sunlight into the cracks in my life, to show that I'm not the one meant to carry the weight of the world.

There are multiple scripture passages that refer to the transient nature of humanity.  We aren't redwoods, or even something less majestic like a rhododendron.  We are grass, ready to be cut and blown away.  But we are rooted in the ground of all that is, in a strength that stretches from everlasting to everlasting. We are not meant to be pure and steady models of dependency.  

So we are free to tread lightly.  To trim and let go.  To embrace the fragility and brilliance of our existence.  In the middle of it, we become the flower of the field.  Learning to find lightness is to joyfully understand that we are free to make mistakes, to even see the lighthearted beauty of hair that ends up a little lopsided.  

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