I’ve been under a bit of unusual stress the last three weeks, I would have been better off taking time to assimilate life’s latest serving of chewy bits. But life goes on, and as a Buddhists have said, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” Cutting hair, even though a family member may have been on her death bed, seemed odd.
And yet, my clients were there for me. At first, I did not think I could work. The salon environment, albeit quieter than usual that day felt too overwhelming. I had no intention of laying it out for everybody, nor did I need to become maudlin, or ignore my reality. At times, I felt as though I walked a tight rope. On one side was my life, on the other, my profession, and when I engaged in conversation about myself, I began to falter, and the net below swung in all directions.
At home I placed a platic bag on a hot burner, walked in three directions at once, not remembering what I was doing. At work, during a weave, I turned my clients hair a pale violet in a few packets. The flashing light inside strobed, sending a warning to refocus, and bring the conversation back to the client.
My family member felt better today, we all could sigh with relief. The road to healing is still long, and perhaps even questionable. Meanwhile, I am grateful for my life, and for my clients who continue to awe me in their respect, concern, and kind words.