When Jeanne first walked into the salon to meet me for an update on how her hair growing process is going, she was dressed in her gray uniform from work, with her hair in a Twistie. I told her I would be right with her. As I finished up the short, sassy haircut on my last client of the day, I could see Jeanne's eyes peeking over the half-wall the cutting floor from the waiting area. Then, within minutes she was purring, barking, lusting after my client's short hair. Her cries of desire left me with the feeling that the "grow out" as a stance against the war was waning. After I grabbed my bag, we head out into the sunlight, I could feel my skin, and all sensory neurons waking up, after a long day of being inside. We embraced, I could feel the missing her right in the center of my chest. As we ordered tea, and sat outside in front of Betty's Diner in Berkeley, CA, we got to the hair topic right away. Basically, she is having a hard time with it. She is a short hair kind of woman, long hair doesn't feel comfortable, or like an expression of herself. Even more poignant of an action then, don't you think?
We talked about art, and we agreed we need to keep the art going. But do we need to let the world know about our art? She doesn't think so. It's kind of like painting in back of the cave. Paint because you have to, and for nobody else to see. Somebody else will come paint over your work. It's about the process, not the result. Art for money? That's a whole other conversation. However, there are times we feel more private with our creativity, and sometimes we feel we need to let others in. We agreed we thought many more people would be functioning adults, had they had their voice come out through something they had created.
By the end of our conversation, Jeanne was thinking, maybe she just needed a slight trim to give it some shape as her hair continued to grow. I agreed. I said that is not a haircut, and you wouldn't be defeating the process. Was it a plea for her hair, or about our connection. She might be moving, and that would sadden me. Maybe it saddened her as well.
We never did talk about the war. It's almost impossible to let my heart fathom what has gone on in Iraq, and what continues to go on. Not to mention what may be happening soon in Iran. My own nephew joined the Coast Guard a month ago. In his eyes, it was the only hope for a desperate young man, needing to feel worthy.