Lessons I learned from my comb

I had really short hair most of my life. Really short. I see border agents quizzically look at my passport photo with my 1" hairdo and then at me with my hair tumbling past my shoulders. (doesn't tumbling sound so romantic?)

Anywho- back to my comb.  Two summers ago I was visiting my friend Maddy who has an amazing 10 year-old daughter named Ella with lovely long hair.  I went upstairs one afternoon and found Maddy brushing out Ella's hair and saw how she slowly, gently started at the bottom and made her way up.  Not the way I did it.  I yanked that comb from top to bottom, through my hair with the same force as I would use pulling a tarp over my tent in the middle of Hurricane Alfred. Far from gentle and slow. I would yank, pull, tear and force that comb through my hair...eventually getting my way with lots of energy used, some pain, and a comb full of hair still in knots. Oh well, just the price for long hair I figured.

NO.

Just the price of forcing something.  

When I saw Maddy I felt it.  I felt my body soften, I felt tenderness in watching this sweet scene and I realized my comb was trying to get me to slow down, to be gentle and sweet with myself.  That in brushing out my hair and in living life I didn't have to yank, pull, force or lose so much.

That it didn't have to be painful. 

So thank you Maddy, Ella and my comb.  I must say I am enjoying our sweet time together so much more these days and my hair is loving tumbling past my shoulders without all that pain.

Where are you forcing things? Where in your life could you add some gentleness and sweetness?  What is your comb trying to tell you? Listen, it's smarter than you think. 

  N ot much combing happening with this hairdo in 2006. Flatirons, Boulder, CO. No selfies of me with my comb.

Not much combing happening with this hairdo in 2006. Flatirons, Boulder, CO. No selfies of me with my comb.