Wild, Wild Hair

It has been a few days since I’ve posted anything. This is partly because of my laziness, but primarily because I have been experiencing a wide range of emotions and have not been able to find the words to articulate those feelings. Between work, puzzling emotions, and the ongoing health symptoms, I haven’t quite found the right flow to juggle all these things.

But that’s okay, journeys are rarely perfectly sequenced.

Why then did I not post anything this weekend?

Because I got caught up in a two day, 60’s-70’s music solo dance party in my bedroom.

My God, Gary Puckett can sure sing.

I will be so bold as to say that blasting and dancing to Jay and the Americans, the Vogues, and The Guess Who was my spiritual high of last week.

I was raised on these bands and singers, but over the last decade I have tried to suppress the septuagenarian I internally am and try to listen to the tunes of my generation. Yet, this weekend as I was listening to Young the Giant (who are lovely), my phone shuffled on Cara Mia by Jay and the Americans. When the lyrics hit “Darling hear my prayer” my heart started fluttering and I suddenly found myself falling head first into the well of oldies music I’ve long kept archived. It felt like a personality revival.

How long has it been since I was absolutely silly and completely without some sort of filtration system to keep me in check? The answer is: WAY TOO LONG.

There has been so much intention these past two weeks as I’ve tried to secure wellness habits that raise my vibration, ground me in connection to the Universe, and lead me to sustainable health. I’ve consistently meditated, I’ve followed the daily guidance of May Cause Miracles, and I have tried to infuse positive affirmations into my daily experiences. Those practices have been and continue to be incredible, and I have experienced real transformation in just these few days.

But this weekend I remembered that being reactive, and allowing flexibility within all of that structure can have delightful results. Admittedly I wasn’t prepared to answer my co-workers when they asked me what I did this weekend. I immediately had a thought bubble with the image of me prancing (gracelessly) to Disco Inferno, but felt that may not be something they needed to know.

The practices taught in Gabby Bernstein’s May Cause Miracles have been creating subtle but substantive shifts in my energy, and this weekend I think I saw those shifts bubble up into a burst of unrestricted fun.

As each of us finds what health path works best for us, I think it is so important to allow these unexpected, but fun-filled moments into our lives. Even when they’re ridiculous. Especially when they’re ridiculous.

For years I’ve been living work day to work day, with my commute as my only substantial break. I’ve been dedicated to my job and being a good employee but have taken so little time to do anything that evokes the simple experience of having fun. When people ask me what my interests or hobbies are, my mind goes blank, and I can’t seem to remember the last time I pursued anything that would meet the hobby criteria. I’ve even felt validation in that realization because it has meant to me to that I was properly prioritizing my career and putting in the hard work I need to ensure a promising future. I figured that hobbies could be identified once I fill my savings account to a particular amount.

Right now, (in addition to wanting a full savings account) I want a full life brimming with joy and the things that make me happy.

This weekend, I felt boundless. Now I’m trying to think through what that feeling could look like if I carry it into the rest of my life. For eons, my self-imposed boundaries have been suppressive, suffocating, but also dependably safe. And to be honest, I am grateful for those internal boundaries I created, because they came out of the necessity of surviving a very challenging upbringing. However, I am no longer on the frontlines of those dysfunctions and I can be my full self. My full, Gary Puckett and the Union Gap-loving self.

Within all of this contemplation I thought of a nickname my dad used to call me. I had very long, curly to wavy hair, that was fairly untamable and always disheveled by my outdoor explorations of our wooded backyard. Dad called me the girl with the wild, wild hair.

That is who I want to be. The girl whose hair was so wild, it usually collected burs and other forest shrapnel. I was unrestrained, full of energy and creativity, seeking anything and everything that fed my imagination. I would dance around to these songs essentially no differently than how I did this weekend. As a child I had no idea how incredible it was to feel those things and express that fun so effortlessly.

I had not yet learned to hide those parts of me away.

Now this doesn’t mean I will stop brushing my hair or that I’ll start adorning it with twigs. It means that I am opening myself to being expressive, vulnerable, and that I will continue to seek the things that stir something so incredibly wonderful and simple.


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