Tag Archives: Spirituality

My Purple Hair And I

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[Photo in the post before this one.]

Hair dye, tattoos, and piercings- oh my!

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These words/actions are often grouped together for one reason or another though they are three very different things. Some people think ‘punk’, others ‘teenager’ or ‘immature’. Another group of people think ‘rebel’, ‘wannabe’, or ‘trying to be cool.’ To put it simply the art of body decoration brings out all kinds of different thoughts and feelings though they are usually on one side of the fence or the other. Either it’s a good idea or a bad idea. Either you’re doing it to fit in or break out. Either you’re too young or too old.

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Whatever.

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I have another thought on the matter that I don’t really hear too often but let me back up and explain why I’m even writing about this in the first place. Tattoos have always fascinated me but you can never change them and I don’t do needles- ever. Piercings occasionally make my brain turn but I just don’t do pain- that and I’m notorious for losing jewelry or goodness forbid getting it caught on something. *winces*

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Hair dye on the other hand… In today’s world with the variety of chemical combination your hair can be whatever color(s) you want provided you’re willing to sit through and/or pay for the process. Yes, you can severely damage your hair but 1. it doesnt hurt (unless you’ve done something seriously wrong), 2. shaving your head is easy, and 3. if you’re smart enough to wait at least two or three months before mutilating your hair again you have nothing to worry about.

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Why is this important? Because my hair is now purple.

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Why would I do something like this?

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For spiritual reasons.

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You read that right. I have dyed my hair purple for spiritual reasons. Actually, I went in and had it done at a salon because I’ve never gone a strange color before and I wanted it to look nice especially since I have a job to maintain. Back to the point though, what does this have to do with my spirituality?

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Everything.

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Or it seems like it lately. Let me start from a few paces back. See, I have a lot of health problems. I always have and chances are I always will. It’s just part of my life. Scoliosis, stomach ulcers, asthma (which somehow ties in with the ulcers), low blood sugar, noticeably lazy eye, slight limp, and a tooth that sticks out of my mouth no matter how small smile is. Oh, and let’s not forget periodic but chronic nose bleeds. There is always something wrong with me but I’ve never paid it too much mind before.

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A few years ago there was so much going on and wrong in my life that my health really wasn’t all that… well, it could have been worse. As the years went by and everything has started to come together nicely I’ve had a chance to see how lucky I really am that it ‘isn’t’ worse and I’ve always been very thankful. It’s just.. that these last few months I’ve been complaining more and more about what’s ‘wrong with me’ despite how happy I am and how wonderful my life really is. Yeah, there are still problems but that just makes every other happy moment more beautiful but I’m SO sick of being SICK!

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I digress- normally I’d find a way to get over this either through writing or meditation or talking to that wonderful husband of mine but nothing has really been working. It doesn’t help that more and more often of late I’ve had to deal with people at work blatantly pointing out my flaws. What with my back and hip I can’t carry certain things, with the asthma I can’t run very fast or work around certain cleaners, with my stomach I can’t eat an array of things (I work in a restaurant) which leads to the next series of comments on my weight. All my life people have been saying I’m far too skinny. Either they playfully say they hate me for it, that I’m so lucky, or they ask me if I have anorexia.

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I’m not skinny because I don’t eat, I eat all the time, it runs in my family damn it!

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Back to the point. Again.

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I say spirituality instead of religion for a variety of reasons that I’m not going to go into right now, one of the reasons though is because there is no name for what I am but if someone had to call me something or suggest I follow one philosophy over another it would be Taoism.

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The main concept of Taoism is to just be. If you’re not happy with something then you need to do something about it, complaining does nothing. Either you do, or you do not. There is no halfway. I’ve been complaining this whole time, not about the health problems themselves but about the fact that it’s often what people see me for.

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I’ve never been a vain creature, I didn’t even wear makeup at my own wedding but all these people are starting to make me feel uncomfortable in my own body. They have no right to do that and so I’ve made a decision. I’ve taken control of the situation, gone out and I have done what I felt I needed to do to feel good in this body of mine again. It may only be a shell to house the soft gooey center known as me but it bruises easily so I need to take care that I’m happy with my body so it might be protected from the elements.

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If I’m not happy with my body, a part of myself, then I’m not being me. If I’m not being me then I’m not following my spirituality and that can’t be allowed. So, I went and had my hair dyed purple. How does that fit into everything? Many ways that may only make sense to me, but two more than anything.

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For starters, when I enter a room full of people and they look up and I think about what the first thing they see when they see me is- I think purple hair. I don’t wonder if they see my pale skin or the way I walk or even my tooth when I talk because you might not be able to tell in the picture but my purple is quite neon in normal light. I still shock myself when I walk into the restroom and see my hair out the corner of my eye in the mirror. Sure, they might still see the things that are wrong with me but I no longer feel like that’s their main focus and for me that’s an important thing. Vain I am not, self conscious… very.

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The second reason is slightly more subtle and might be one of those aforementioned things only I can understand. See, I have no control over all these other things that are wrong with my body. I can’t do a single thing about them. I’ve gone to doctors (rarely, but I do) and I follow their instructions but in the end in most cases that’s all that can be done. I can’t change the fact that people are always commenting about what they perceive and I can’t really change what they perceive as far as the grand scale of things goes. I have no control over anything.

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As some of you know I was in a car accident recently, let me tell you- I felt like my body had turned traitor against me. It seemed like everything was malfunctioning at once and there was nothing I could do about it. I went to the emergency room and it made it even more obvious that there was nothing I could do about it. In the past I accepted this, it was the way it was but now… it’s becoming part of my everyday life more and more and shoved in my face more and more.

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I had no control.

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I decided to get my hair dyed. I decided to go some outlandish color. I decided where and when I was going to get it done. I decided not to care when one of my friends dissed it. I decided not to care if people started to stare at me even more despite my shy nature.

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I decided. I gave myself control.

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By making myself happy I’m being me and that’s what matters. :) I think I had another point to make but this post has turned out slightly longer than anticipated and once more I’m the only one still awake in my household. Love and peace to all of you.

NaNo Update #Almost Done (127,357 Words)

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Good morning!

Yes, it really is morning. Usually I go to bed around six am (because I’m a night shift kind of girl) but tonight I wrote and wrote and wrote until my poor little fingers were so tired and my brain just couldn’t function anymore and I took a fifteen minute nap, then I woke up, turned the laptop back on and decided I was ready for round two. It’s nine in the morning and I still haven’t been to bed and I feel wonderful!

It’s amazing what a good mood can do for you mixed together with lack of sleep and the joy of reaching 127,357 words AND knowing you only have two or three chapters left till the story is actually finished, completed, ended, [inserts other words for 'oh, my gods, I'm almost done!' here].

It’s such a pretty thought, so shiny and tempting that I have no clue what to do with it but run around in circles right now. I was telling my husband last night that I really, honestly, believe I might cry when I finish the book. It’s not an if anymore, it’s a when. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to say that about one of my longer pieces since I happen to suffer from a chronic case of ADOSSO.

Attention Deficit… Oh, shit! Shiny object! Pardon the curse, lol, it’s something Kei and I came up with together while attempting to get up early the next day after staying up till noon writing (to clarify: we woke up, started writing, and didn’t go to sleep till lunch time the next day) and we were feeling rather goofy and random. To be honest I don’t know why people need drugs, if they’d just deprive themselves of sleep doing something they love, deprive a good friend along with them, then force each other into consciousness the next day they’d be whacked out all the time. I mean, given I’m bound to be cranky when I first wake up but while I’m trying to fall back asleep it’s like the little net that catches all the things I don’t mean to say while I’m awake is damaged. Even better- because of my lack of sleep and recent visit to dreamland my motor skills are generally suffering and sometimes saying a word with more than two syllables is a bit of a challenge… so yeah, I don’t need drugs. I’m weird enough as is.

Anyways back to topic…

Wait.

I had a topic?

Hmm.

Oh yes, finishing my novel. I can no call it a novel without thinking I’m stealing some catch phrase because even at size twelve font I’m numbering at over 500 pages right now. I know I’d be wasting trees if I did it but the urge to print it out when I’m all done just so I can hug the bulk of it is tremendous. Fortunately my husband has talked me into waiting until it’s gone through at least the first edit and then using the ‘CreateSpace’ offer from the NaNo to get a single bound copy for myself and then I can merrily accuse them of killing of innocent trees just so I can hug my novel.

I can hardly believe that the month isn’t even over yet (though I’m glad it’s not), it just seems like this has been the longest month of my entire life. Even thinking back to last years NaNo, it was nothing like this for me. I mean it was still crazy, awesome, inspiring, and finger numbingly wonderful but there is a definite difference. See, last year I used the NaNo as a means of forcing myself back into the writing world. When afraid to walk down the stairs go jump off a cliff so to speak to prove it’ll only hurt if… hmm…. that analogy was in my head and then as I was typing it I lost my train of thought and I can’t remember when I was going.

So, yeah, last year was a reintroduction into what I love, this year I’ve already been baptised so to speak and I’m no longer testing the waters but jumping in and swimming like a fish. I live and breath writing. :) I think it also helps having another writer in the house to compete with, it’s in my nature to try and type faster and hit the word counts faster if I can and if I can’t it gives me something to aim for like a mini game amongst the great challenge.

Even more so was all the encouragement my wonderful Husband keeps giving and his patience in my antics every thirty minutes or so when I busted another thousand out and had to tell him all about it. Both my brothers even helped push me along though I’m not sure they know it. I’ve been posting my latest and greatest word counts on my instant messenger the entire time and little did I know till recently that they were both following along and it surprised me when now and then they’d leave me a little message to go for it and such. It’s kind of cool how even though they don’t get along, or even talk, to each other how they can come together for me on this one thing. It makes smile.

Now for a random page from 365 Tao

“Do your devotions make you happy?
Is your life a joyous song?”

~Deng Ming-Dao

On this page Deng mentions while speaking of spiritual devotion that “it is unfortunate that so much coercion, unhappiness, bitterness, guilt, and fear become wrapped up in spirituality.” He goes on to talk about how being devoted to whatever you consider spiritual in your life, the thing you live for, or whatever churns your soul- it should make you happy and that it should be a celebration not a grudging ritual and I wholeheartedly agree. It’s difficult to explain without typing down what he said here and as my glasses are missing and I’m doing what quoting I am doing most from my head- you’ll just have to settle with my poor explanation.

When I read this earlier, this random page I turned to in a moment of contemplation I had a thought surface brightly in my head like the sun dancing up over the horizon. I wouldn’t call it a strange thought, it has occurred to me more than once but I don’t think it’s a common thought and I’m alright with that.

Writing is my spirituality.

I like to say that I do not have a religion, religion is for those who can name the faith they belong and can read out of the same book as millions of others without knowing the history behind it and follow it- not blindly but more like a sheep follows a flock. I’m not speaking of any one religion just organized religion in general.

To me spirituality is how you express your deepest soul felt feelings, it’s the guidelines you set for yourself, and your point of view in how the universe works. Spirituality is like a snowflake, no two for any two people are alike. Similar maybe but the same? Never because we are all different with different souls that have different needs but I’m ranting so I’ll pull myself back in the direction I was going beforehand.

Writing is my spirituality.

Everything that comes into my soul, my head, my heart. I express it through writing. The universe gives me all these wonders and I give back by writing. I celebrate my life and my happiness or the flip side of the same coin by writing.

Some Tibetan monk goes to his temple every single day, he adorns his robes, and purifies himself.

I sit before the temple of my laptop or notebook every single day, I build my writers nest out of all my favorite blankets, and I clear my mind.

The monk puts his hands together to pray.

I spread my fingers out over the keyboard.

The monk may sings hymns of the joy that his beliefs have brought him.

I dance spontaneously every ten pages.

He will sweep his temple steps in reverence to his place of practice.

I will meticulously pull all the keys off my keyboard and pick out all the cat hair and possibly Chinese food that has fallen beneath them because it is my place of practice and I revere it.

He will sit in silence for hours listening as his god speaks to him through it.

I will listen to my mp3 player for hours listening as random ideas pop into my head with convenient lyrics.

His god will bring him the greatest wisdom he has ever known if he listens with a full heart and an open soul.

My characters will bring me the greatest stories and teach me the greatest morals I have ever known, taking me on adventures I may have never had otherwise through my stories if I listen with a full heart and an open soul.

*grin*