Hair and Hot Lava

This was the note from the universe that arrived in my mailbox today:

Any attempt to measure one's progress in life with an assessment of their present physical surroundings or even a panoramic glance at their life and times to date is just plain "whacked." The reason being is that each journey, kind of like a haircut, should never be fully appraised until it's complete. Otherwise, one might mistake a miracle-in-the-making for a setback, loss or "the wet look."

Oh how much sense this makes. A few posts back, I mentioned that my hair, recently cut, was utterly badass and Joan-Jett-ish. Now, it has grown in and though still nice, it's rapidly approaching a flattened version of "The Rachel" (as in from Friends) that was so popular in the mid-90s. Any interpretations of what that might mean, feel free to offer. But be kind.

As a New Yorker, I think I'm utterly amazed by how things happen incrementally. I am used to a quick pace, and perhaps I am more comfortable with a quick pace. That way, I can mash more into my day: meet more friends, have more conversation, more subway rides, accomplish more, see more, do more and plainly, have more stimulus. I'm not necessarily saying that his this best, I'm just saying I'm used to it.

So when I have to adhere to the natural laws, tap into the substance that turns a caterpillar into a butterfly, that makes a seed ever so slowly snake up through the soil and bloom, I am a bit confounded. I imagine that this substance boils hot as lava, but in such a tiny space, it cannot be seen or felt by us humans. The luxury of time, the need for patience is something so new, so radical (or so ancient and so radical) that I am not sure how to respond. I think like all people, we initally poke at it, push it away, shatter the mirror and say "this couldn't possibly be a reflection of me."

And yet, maybe that's what this process is all about. We put things in our path that teach us the lessons we need to learn. One of my favorite Buddhist maxims is "when the student is ready, the teacher will apear." Maybe I need this experience of getting back in touch with that cosmic goo that makes things grow, improve, and find their rightful place--dare I say destiny. And if that means slowing down in order to feel its heat, then so be it.

I have a feeling that all love affairs start with this same hot cosmic goo, too. Hmm...