Day 101 of 365: why I cut my hair at 2:30am.

3.5 years since my spontaneous spiritual awakening, and there are still days of these intense “oh shit…” realizations. It’s like, on a spiritual/emotional/mental level, I’ve somehow hit the ZOOM OUT button and gotten a clearer view of myself, who I am, and who I’m not.

Oh–And who I’ve been trying to be.

And it’s not that I’ve been consciously attempting to be someone I’m not. Rather, I’ve been living as who I thought I was. And who I thought I was was birthed and built from other’s input: parents, teachers, significant others, friends, enemies, frenemies, bosses, strangers, society. People. (Most of whom are living-and likely will continue to live-lives under the guise of who they think they are.)

I love trimming the fat. I love going through my psyche and emotional body, shining light on the darkest corners, piled high with hoarded shit…

This isn’t me.

Not this.

I’ve outgrown this.

This doesn’t work anymore.

This used to keep me safe; I don’t need it anymore.

What is this even for?

This is broken.

This is unsafe to play with.

And I just… toss it out.

This matches how much I love downsizing/minimizing my external world and living space. There’s very little that’s more freeing than realizing my armoire is getting full, and deciding to cut my wardrobe in half and donate everything I’ve decided to shed.

It’s not that I dislike any of my clothes… It’s that I’ve collected too many. This is not a bad thing; I’m grateful for the opportunity to have tried on so many different styles. Now, as a result of those different looks, I can be honest with myself about what I want to keep and what no longer fits or what I no longer love.

I’m a firm believer in only keeping what I love… In only keeping what makes me feel joy.

This brings to mind that saying:


A shirt that I no longer love, or that no longer fits me, or that no longer brings me joy… Is something that another person will see and gasp because it’s just what they need/are looking for.

What a blessing we have to live in a culture where one of our main issues is that we have too much stuff. “I just don’t know what to wear; I have too many options!”

Like… We pay hundreds of dollars a month for storage units to hold the extra stuff that doesn’t fit with our current stuff.

And, if our external world is a reflection of our internal, what does that mean?

To me, I’ve learned, it means that we hide behind things. We hide behind expectations and ideas and ideals and materialism. And… We store stuff, even when it’d be more beneficial to get rid of it.

Since everything is energy-even emotions and thoughts… us hoarding and refusing to give up obsolete thought/emotional patterns is doing two things:

  1. It’s using up our own energy to keep the old stuff in our possession.
  2. It’s hoarding energy from other people.

Energy doesn’t cease to exist; it changes. It’s constantly changing. By trimming away the old growth or the old masks or the split ends, that energy has the opportunity to transmute into something beautiful… Something healthy… For others or for ourselves or for the earth.

And this is why I chopped my hair off last night.

I was sitting on my sofa, reading, feeling particularly discontent. I then brought to mind my core desired feelings, which I wrote about yesterday. I asked myself, does sitting here reading this book make me feel






The answer was a hard no. This makes me feel obligated, trapped, and annoyed.

I immediately closed the book, in the middle of whichever sentence I was on, and asked myself: “What would make me feel the way I want to feel?”

I suddenly had a flash of an image in my mind… Of me doing yoga under the stars. Without hesitation, I grabbed a blanket, went into the backyard, and did some amount of minutes (I didn’t time it, because that doesn’t feel surrendered to me) of free-flow yoga and movement.

While lying in shavasana, I suddenly had the visual of me cutting my hair. This gave me tinglies inside. Tingles of confirmation. Tingles of joy, of surrender, of being in-alignment.

Just like that, I got up, walked inside, and cut my hair.

Years ago I’d decided to grow my hair out in order to discover my natural color. It took a long time and resulted in years of me having an ombre (which is a style where the hair is a lighter color at the bottom). My hair got longer than it’d ever been. It was down to my belly button.

And so, with the scissors I normally use to open Amazon packages or painting supplies, I cut away all the old color… Leaving me with fresh, healthy new growth. My hair is officially 100% my natural color. 100% me.

Now, did I do a perfect job? Oh fuck no. When I go see a hair stylist next he/she will probably be like “WHO THE HELL DID YOU LET TOUCH YOUR HAIR?” And then I’ll smile and swing my legs like a little kid and say “MEEEEEE!!!!”

But, I did it. And I felt my core desired feelings as a result. And guess what? When I woke up this morning, I still felt that way.

And so, to wrap this post up, I’ll leave you with this quote that my brain just gave me:

The more I trim away, the more I can see my natural colors.

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Some days, I paint. Other days, I write. And rap. And tell stories. And do comedy. And doodle. And [attempt to] bake. And, one week out of every month, I merge with my sofa and sob about mortality and things like the existence of air and how we can't live without it and how utterly claustrophobic that is to consider. I'm relatively particular. And this is a place for me to share ALL the quirks.

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