Dear Universe, Message Received

I believe that the Universe sends us messages. Sometimes we miss them altogether. Sometimes we see but don’t understand. And sometimes it feels like the Universe is an aggravated friend watching us hesitate over a big decision and then finally going “OHMYGOD. GO. JUST EFFING DO IT. JUST…GO!!! GAH!!!” over and over again.

Message. Overload.

That’s the way it’s felt for me lately. I’ve been hesitating on 3 or 4 things, telling myself I can’t, finding reasons why I don’t have the time, watching So You Think You Can Dance instead. But the messages keep sneaking in:

Songs play on the radio with lines like “time is wasting, life’s not waiting”
People I respect write posts about death and fear
People I love pass away. People I don’t know at all pass away
People I know make their dreams real

Today at lunch, Matthew called me up in total disbelief. “WHAT IS THE UNIVERSE TRYING TO TELL US?!” he practically shouted. He had just heard “If Today Was Your Last Day” on the radio and then BEEN DIVE-BOMBED BY A BUTTERFLY. Seriously. You can’t make this stuff up.

“What am I supposed to DO?” he asked me.
“You already know,” I said, “You really do. You just need to do it.”

And so do I.

OK, Universe. Your message has been received. I am officially accepting your invitation. I’ll see you on the dance floor.

Let’s dance, and see what magic happens.

The First Cuts are the Scariest: Life lessons from a haircutting adventure

Last night I did something crazy…

I cut off my hair.

Not like, “I went to a salon and had my hair cut,” (although I did that this afternoon…just to tidy things up). Nope. I stuck my hair in 2 bunches, grabbed the scissors, and lopped it off. Seriously.

The last time I did that was when I was 19 an in a major bout of depression. And it SUCKED (the depression AND the haircut). This time? This is something different.




I’ve been feeling increasingly weighed down. Not just by my hair (although I have…had…a HELL of a lot of it), but by all kinds of garbage and limiting beliefs that have built up over the past 2.5 years. “I can’t”s and “I should”s and “I have to”s. Bitterness, resentment, martyrdom, victimhood. It’s been pressing down on me.

Yesterday I was playing guinea pig for a friend’s art therapy session, and my drawing of myself looked like this:


See that hair? That hair is the weight of the freaking world, my friend.


Last night I had one of those pivotal moments of realization…one of those moments when everything clicks into focus and all my patterns turned into what they really are: not “this is the way it is,” but “this is the way I have been limiting myself, and I’m effing tired of it.” And my hair felt like the embodiment of all of it, just like in my drawing. So I cut it off (honestly, I was this-close to giving myself a buzz cut).


…the clippers were RIGHT THERE. It was a near thing!


Before I started cutting, I took a deep breath and visualized my hair containing all the limiting beliefs and emotional baggage that was holding me back and weighing me down.

And then…

Snip snip snip.

The minute the scissors hit the hair, I was terrified. There’s a certain “Holy shit, I can’t go back now” to beginning a major transformation (whether it’s a haircut or something bigger). All I could do is keep cutting and hoping that everything would turn out OK in the end.

I kept cutting. The hair came off.

…I’m thinking of donating them. That’s a LOT of hair!


It turned out OK…

No…more than OK. It turned out really freaking awesome. It was JUST what I needed!

Eeeeeeee! No regrets whatsoever!

Honestly, I was pretty thrilled with the end results. I felt 10 pounds lighter, and infinitely freer. It was amazing.

And here’s the final cut, after the hairdresser fixed it up a bit.


And I feel different. More present, less stuck. Ready to make other, bigger transformations.

The moral of the story: The first cuts are the scariest. Everything else is just shaping and trimming.