For as long as I can remember, I’ve thought, “Hey, I want dreads!” And for as long as I can remember, I never got them. Then I stopped washing my hair obsessively, and my hair got curlier, perhaps looking the best it’s ever looked… Then I let a friend put a single dread in my hair, and the curls sucked right up to that baby, making an irreversible bird’s nest clobbered at the back of my head.
I stood in front of the changing room mirror- old ladies getting ready for their aquafit classes, staring at me- as I tackled the beluga whale sized knot. Hours later, I found myself more defeated than I’ve ever felt; I was either letting my hair (which was quite nice I beg to brag) tangle into some crazy mess, or I was chopping it all off into some boy cut.
In the end, I decided I’d rock the messy hair. I tore the bird’s nest into single dreading strands and started washing my hair with baking soda and water… instead of million dollar shampoo. I got fired before I even took the job- because dreads aren’t an approved hairstyle- and went rock climbing instead.
For as long as I remember, I’d wanted to make my own journey in this life. There were things I wanted, things that followed utterly no logic to the contemporary man’s world (kind of like dreadlocks and rock climbing.) For some reason though, I spent years delicately balancing between two completely different universes.
I brushed and straightened my hair, put my make up and high heels on, and walked into my job at Moxie’s; all so I could throw my hair in a ponytail, wash my make up off, and do keg stands with the boys at the end of my shift.
How I’ve managed the double, sometimes triple life, until now, I have no idea. The day my hair started dreading though, was the day I realized I was on a journey somewhere new. I was forced into committing my life in one direction or another; there was no more doing things because someone else told me it was the right thing to do; like go to school, or get a job, or hold off rock climbing while I “got my life in order.”
I couldn’t tell my own hair what to do, yet here I was letting people tell me what it should do? Nevermind the whispers of what my Being should do…
I’m coming to the end of my 9-5 desk job, my money problems are no better than they were, and my school is no further than it was. I’ll admit, it is all more of a mess than I’d hoped for; but a beautiful mess it is. Beautiful because I tried, and I learned and grew as a human being. All of that, is worth every penny of debt I owe, and every ounce of effort to keep this life I’m painting right tracked for the masterpiece it deserves to be.
My dreadlocks, locking away on their own accord, tidying things up one day at a time, are symbolic of much more than I ever thought avoiding a brush could be. They’ve got miles to go before any sort of order will come, and they’ll spend the rest of their lives growing and changing with the flow.
Who knew avoiding a brush could teach you so much?
Oh, the simple things!
