spring visions
Black hair is truly a mystical journey. After all of those years of spending hours in the hair salon burning, washing, and setting my hair; absorbing harmful chemicals; buying vitamins for thicker, longer, and healthier hair; changing the way I slept to prevent hair loss; installing weaves and braids to obtain instantaneous longer and straighter hair; trying out various hair products that promised “better” hair; wincing at the rain; trying not to sweat too much under the summer sun; worrying about getting splashed at rowing practice; wondering how I was going to hide my hair during “bad hair days”; blowing out my hair before school; and crying over haircuts that were too short (I was convinced my beauty was gone), I shaved my head.
My mom was terrified when I told her I would cut my hair off. I explained to her that continuing to relax my hair was unsustainable because of how unhealthy the practice was, and she understood. She just wanted me to find another solution that didn’t involve people seeing me practically bald (which I am not). There are ways to transition from chemically relaxed to natural hair. You could let it grow out and go once a week to a salon for treatments (to keep it healthy), cutting off the dead ends slowly until all you have is natural hair. You could grow it out for a little bit and then get braids. You could get a wig so no one sees you with no hair. You can also bite the bullet and start over. I weighed all of these options, but I knew all I wanted was that fresh start. My mom’s reaction was expected; she has always looked out for me. She was afraid of what everyone at work would think (I work in a conservative place, so I got that; I was scared too). She was fearful of what my friends would think. She was just scared for me. I didn’t want fear to continue making decisions for me, especially when I suspected this change would make me happy.
If you had told me even a year ago, let alone six or ten when I was still in college and high school, respectively, that there was a time when I would need to start over, I would have cried. When my sister was in high school, a texturizer burned half of her hair, and she had to start over. My mother was horrified but accepted her fate. My mom questioned why I would voluntarily do this, and even I questioned my sanity. Somehow, it just felt right. As someone prone to anxiety and overthinking, I was surprised at how right it felt. I tried to test myself to see if the fear would rear its ugly head. It didn’t.
John, my partner then, and I arrived at the salon for my nine a.m. appointment. He sat there for an hour while they chopped my hair off, shaved it once, shaved it again, and trimmed the edges. The stylist didn’t have me facing the mirror, which was probably a good idea. (I caught glimpses in the mirror; it looked questionable in those liminal stages. I had to calm myself down, reminding myself that it wasn’t done yet.) I had no idea this was the process, let alone how long it would take. (I wrongfully assumed they would take the clippers to my head for about fifteen minutes.) Occasionally, I looked at John while I sat in the chair; he nodded approvingly. That helped. It’s not every day a black girl willingly goes to the salon that early on a Saturday to cut all her hair off. I got stares from so many people in awe of what was happening. I also got so many warm compliments and reassurance from strangers. “You look beautiful,” said one woman to me who was there to get her hair washed. I appreciated that she took the time to come up to me. I was a stranger to her; even if she was utterly lying, it still felt nice.
When I first saw myself in the mirror, I was shocked. I was amazed at how great it looked and equally shocked that it looked normal. My stylist commented, “No one on the street will know you had this done today. They are going to think you have always looked like this. That is how natural it looks on you.” He was right. I had made peace with my decision a long time ago. I was prepared to cry if I was wrong, but I felt relieved. John and I walked over to brunch, where we ran into my step-aunt, step-uncle, and their two adorable children. (I’m not sure they initially recognized me because they just gawked at me (they are pretty young).) They didn’t realize I had just finished cutting my hair and were impressed by how normal it looked. Over brunch, all John could say was how he didn’t know I could look even more beautiful and how he fell even more in love with me. I was so grateful and happy to have him there supporting me. We took fun Polaroids before and after to celebrate the metamorphosis.
One of the reasons I wanted to shave my head is that it’s more common to see black women with shaved heads than white women. Several months prior, I was watching the Gossip Girl reboot (it’s terrible… I watched every episode) and loved that one of the main characters, Julien, rocked a shaved head. I secretly wondered if I would look as stunning as Jordan Alexander with little to no hair. In the end, I decided that this was one of the ways I felt I could finally celebrate being black instead of always trying to be white. I felt normal and also had a sense of renewal. I felt like myself and reborn.
I paused during my run this morning, just noticing how much my body has changed over the past couple of years. I heard, “You’ve changed.” Suddenly it all made sense.
Between shaving my head and writing these essays, I appreciate my body more for its symbolism. All forms of nature are symbols, as are the various iterations of those forms. What’s the difference between a yellow and a pink rose? Both are forms of Mother Earth that hold a dream, i.e., consciousness, of Unconditional Love. Does the yellow rose convey Unconditional Love differently than the pink rose? Jasmine holds divine feminine consciousness or the divine feminine dream. Do various forms of jasmine bring out different dimensions of this dream? What is the difference between seeing jasmine vs. smelling it? Do they offer diverse healing experiences? What about the difference between a black jaguar and a cougar? Both are symbols of feminine power. The black jaguar holds an extra layer of shadow medicine, symbolized by its dark fur. What about the rosettes patterned on their fur? Hummingbirds are one of the few bird pollinators. What does this say about them? Sure, it highlights the healing powers of flowers but is there more to it? The way hummingbirds move (one of the few, possibly the only, birds that can fly backward) is medicine in itself. Their wings also move in a figure-eight pattern, the symbol of infinity. The moon, sun, stars, and other celestial bodies hold so much archetypal symbolism and medicine (explained by astrology). Spirit babies can appear as all kinds of colors in their mother or father’s aura. What do these colors mean? Why do they change colors? Do their colors specifically mean something to their mother or father? All forms of nature hold multidimensional medicine, seen and unseen.
Our bodies can be sources of beautiful medicine (1). Everything from my dark skin and specific hair texture to my body shape is medicine. I needed to be born into this body to tell this nuanced yet relatable, personal yet impersonal story. I am not saying everything is “fixed” now; I still have plenty of moments to be kinder to myself and much more to explore. Knowing that my body is my soulmate has allowed me to be in awe of it and its expression.
My spirit baby has an orange aura like me. I wonder how I appeared in my mother’s aura.
Finding the same unconditional awe, love, and beauty I find in nature in my own body has been a winding path. I knew the answer was that since we are inseparate from Mother Nature, we share the same beauty and love. Every dimension, aspect, or form of Mother Nature holds a consciousness, i.e., dream. We all take on different forms to enact or carry out that dream. A yellow rose may be yellow because, according to its soul or dream contract, yellow is how it wants and needs to convey Unconditional Love. In contrast, a pink rose expresses the same consciousness differently. How we appear is also Nature’s synchronous way of expressing its love. In “truth,” none of our physical expressions exist without one another. White, black, and all skin colors in between are needed and valuable synchronous expressions of Nature. They create one another like all polarities, e.g., the moon and sun; earth and sky; the divine masculine and feminine; light and shadow; Democrats and Republicans; etc. One could not exist without the other in this third-dimensional reality; they are eternal soulmates. This includes every dualistic expression on the spectrum of those polarities. (I know this is incredibly idealistic; the grounded part of me knows that practical and tangible systems are needed to effect meaningful change; still, I am a true romantic.) We all hold different dimensions of Mother Earth’s Dream, The Mother Dream; we all share The Mother Dream birthed by The Mother Dreamer, i.e., The Cosmic Mother.
You and I; the planets and stars; the flowers and bees; the fire and wind; the forest and water, all share the same dream. We simply have distinct, potent ways of telling our stories. The more we know ourselves for our complexities and nuances, the more we understand that we all reflect the same soul, consciousness, and dream. When I look at people, I wonder what dream, archetype, or vision they hold within themselves. I wonder what love they hold in their hearts, connected to the collective heart. I wonder how the people in their lives support them in enacting that dream. I know that someone loves them unconditionally; thus, there is no reason or excuse for why I cannot treat them with love, kindness, and respect.
As one of the richest dreams, summer has reflected on how much there is to love about being human and being on Earth. Even amongst the ninety-degree days and thick humidity, I feel an immense sense of gratitude. Admittedly, this constant rush of thankfulness is harder for me during winter’s dream as I haven’t yet learned how to receive and appreciate winter’s wisdom, but I will arrive there someday.
As the end of summer slowly approaches, I can feel the healing spiral coming to a close and opening again. Earlier this year, I felt great closure during Mars Dream. I had made peace with many relationships and experiences that would loop through my dreams. Even though not everything was “fixed,” and there was still some more growth, I was grateful for the chance to experience some new beginnings and wipe the slate clean. As humans, we are natural healers, bringing love and tending to all of our wounds. One summer evening, as I reflected upon all of the growth that had taken place over the past several years, I could feel something else stirring inside me, urging me to pay attention. It was as if I knew all those years I spent healing and cracking myself wide open were like practice for what was to come.
I learned so much by being my own healer over the past few years. I also want to honor that I have had some unparalleled teachers and healers that have guided me toward discovering what I am like as a healer. It sounds cheesy, but it always comes back to Love, right? The way we love is unique, but it always returns to that place. I believe this is reflected in my story from my previous essay about the garden. That day I was sitting in Hummingbird Garden, observing my patterns, and I noticed that no matter what, I always sought out a piece of Mother Earth. It didn’t matter whether I was happy and inspired or sad and confused…. I always came back to wherever I could find green.
It is innate to experience awe amidst all of Mother Earth’s beautiful dreams, but what about the shadows? Humanity and this world are filled with shadows; that’s not a bad thing. Without our shadows, I wouldn’t be writing this piece. Light and shadow are soulmates, much like dreams and nightmares. I didn’t realize what I was doing at the time, but I can pinpoint the first moment I decided to find love and wisdom when I was in a tough spot, and it has been a part of my practice ever since. Thanks to John, I am continuously in awe of my shadows and all of the medicine they have provided. Our shadows are just as beautiful as any aspect of humanity. The Cosmic Mother/The Great Mother/Mother Earth has infinite dreams, which means there are endless opportunities and portals for love and beauty. Our capacity to experience awe, beauty, and love is unconditional. We need to choose to tap into the dream layered beneath the nightmare. It is important to note that I am not talking about spiritually bypassing by simply saying that “everything is love and light yaddy yaddy yaddah.” Choosing love in challenging moments is somehow simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing I have ever done. It didn’t work when I tried to brush over how I was feeling. Yes, The Great Mother’s Dream is woven into every fiber of our experiences, seen and unseen. As human beings, we undergo a wide array of experiences and emotions. Some of them feel great, and others don’t. How we feel is a powerful compass for the impact we want to have. The Mother Wound is a powerful portal because my mother wound runs so deep. All the sadness and hurt have helped guide me toward the change I want to effect in my time on Earth. The scarcity and loneliness crisis impact many, and we must do our part to heal it. I have always suspected that how we heal ourselves is how we are meant to heal the planet. My answer has been returning to the awe, beauty, and love in every dream. What’s yours?
Someone brilliant once said humans don’t have to be taught to see beauty (2). We don’t have to be taught to fall in love with a sunset, the waves of an ocean crashing on a shore, the lush green of a forest, the breathtaking view from the top of a mountain, the soft light of the moon, the sound of water rushing from a waterfall, the snow tickling our skin, the vibrant colors of flowers, the majesty of trees, or splendor of a rainbow. We fall in love with Mother Earth for at least a split second when we see this natural beauty and are in awe. No matter who or where you are, we all know beauty when we see it. It differs for everyone, but I trust the feeling is the same. This is one of the experiences that unites us and makes us divinely human. I am constantly in awe of John and all of the synchronous lessons I have learned from our relationship. I find myself in John all the time and subsequently am in awe of myself as a form of Nature. Imagine what would happen if we all saw the innate beauty in one another, if we were in awe of one another, in the same way, we are in awe of Nature? We shouldn't need to be taught to love one another. I don't think we do, I just think we forgot.
How can I lovingly support those around me?
I imagine there is nothing like a mother’s love for her (3) child. I love you so much; you aren’t even “here” yet. You are my soulmate, and I can’t wait to meet you. I can only envision all of how I will come to love you. My vision is to learn to care for myself and give even more to others, especially you. Everyone has someone who loves them. When I become a mother, I hope it will inspire me to become even more loving and compassionate for those unknown to me. I always think, “What if that person was my child? How much love would I have for them?” Everyone could be your child in a quantum, energetic sense. We are all so connected; it’s not impossible. I hope that we can look beyond the conventional definitions of “family,” “parent,” and “child” to care for one another more. We all come from the same place. We are all on the same team. We are all a part of the same family. We are all in one another’s lives to care for one another. Even if it doesn’t come in the pretty, comfortable package that we would prefer, that doesn’t diminish the power of the lesson; it amplifies it. We are all children of the Earth guiding one another home.
How can I lovingly support those around me?
My vision for everyone is that we can feel comfortable enough to share our stories, spirits, and hearts. Vulnerability hasn’t always come easily to me. I am continuously inspired and in awe of those who dare to be vulnerable. They have shown me all how I am not alone. Relationships and community are one of the most beautiful aspects of being human. I hope that as we all come to care for one another, we feel loved and supported enough to share and give of ourselves more. Vulnerability is how we see ourselves in one another and move one step closer to harmony.
How can I lovingly support those around me?
Everything I do is always related to creating a more connected and beautiful world. This is my favorite vision, partially because it is so simple. There are so many ways to overcomplicate spirituality, religion, mysticism, and literally everything else. I’m pretty sure it all comes from the same place, i.e., love. How we get back to that “truth” is up to us.
I envision a reality where everyone can connect to the natural world’s awe, beauty, and, thus, love. I hope that this can move us all from separation to divine union.
(1) This is not to say that we are all born into the “right” body. I am aware of my privilege as a cis woman. I believe our bodies relate to the medicine we can offer the collective in whatever way we choose. All bodies have a story and are valuable and essential. This is also not to minimize the experience of those in marginalized bodies. Although I am marginalized in one way, I am not in all forms; thus, I cannot speak to all experiences. I am open to suggestions for a more inclusive way to phrase this.
(2) Disclaimer: I first heard this idea from Zach Bush, M.D., who received it from a colleague. I don’t know Zach’s work extensively and thus do not claim to agree with all of his ideas, but I want to give credit where credit is due.
(3) I know that not everyone with a womb necessarily uses she/her/hers pronouns. The Mother archetype is available to everyone of all gender identifies. If it weren’t universal, it wouldn’t be an archetype. My mother uses these pronouns, and since this story is about her, those are the pronouns I use throughout this essay.
