Mindfulness (of Spring & Things) in March

Way out here where the sun tucks itself into the ocean at night, it IS hard to notice all the different ways spring is arriving. The light changes a bit though. smells are a bit different. traffic seems a bit lighter too....less rushing to fight the freeways before dark perhaps. the boys notice the change though. their bodies are restless, they looooooonnnnnggg to play, & play & play outside. dashing out of doors and ignoring imperative duties such as homework and housework and the like.

I feel it. My body wants to move more, feel less, feel lighter. My body longs for spring. For digging in gardens and dabbling toes in the ocean again. For hiking in mountains where it is cool and crisp.  In the lovely children's book, The Year At Maple Hill Farm, the authors, Alice and Martin Provensen wryly describe the chickens molting in spring, the rooster losing his fine tail feathers, the sheep being shorn, even the farm dog getting clipped.

So perhaps it was this unknown longing, beating in my frame; a farm soul longing that whispered to me to clip my own hair a bit more. Perhaps it was a silly dream. A dream of things & sundry thoughts & a skipping through my heart...In all honesty I had often thought of having my hair cut even shorter than I first did, ever since we found out my mom was so very ill.  But I always hesitated, talked out of it by myself or stylists. But then on Sunday night,  I saw Her. Radiant and lovely, and there was me on the couch, coveting her hair.
Before I knew it, I was out the door, armed with her picture and stepping into a hair salon.

It was cool and dark in there. A hidden little place amongst a busy world. The stylist was thrilled I wanted something so "radical." She happily snipped away. Then it was done.

A different hair on me. I can't say that it all worked out perfect. I didn't want my bangs any shorter than they were and she seemed to have forgotten that by the end of it. Too short. Boo. When I stepped outside, the sun was bright and I was blue. Boo. So I spent the first day, scrunching my face and biting back tears. So much of my hair was gone. I didn't feel lighter, I felt naked. The Provensen's also write, "even though it's cool and comfortable, it must be embarrassing to lose all of your clothes at once." Indeed. All the worst features of my face seemed to blossom. I felt naked and ugly. So yesterday, I hid my hair under a cap and walked the boys to school. Came home, ignored laundry (again!) worked on other bits and things. Then, as the day passed, suddenly it was okay, well kinda okay. My friends from far away cheered me on and said I was brave. N said I was brave (& beautiful...but he always says that). The boys...well they have remained neutral. It is short. It is different. Children usually don't like different in their dependable adults. But I am glad I was brave enough to try. And I like change. I really do. But I realize I like change I can control a bit more; such as rearranging my furniture or cooking a new recipe. I don't like to place myself in positions where I can fail, or I can't go back.



So in March I am going to be more Mindful. Mindful of the ways I resist change, mindful of the dreams I cradle, and the way these two clash. More mindful of the dreams of others, Mindful of the way others walk in this world. Mindful of the way spring and change are emerging around me.

More mindful of the mad March Hare.
Less mindful of my own maddening hair.

Won't you join me?
More Mindful in this March?
     XXOO