There's Organization if You Look Hard Enough

I am known for growing hair, strangely enough. I can go from a boyish pixie haircut to a ponytail in a matter of months. Perhaps that was why it was easy to take the plunge and shave the sides of my head with a beard trimmer.

People used to have rock gardens, or maybe it's just a new age thing we pretend is old. Zen gardens exist. Now I think we are our own zen gardens. We take the time to sculpt the hair of our heads and bodies, to nitpick at tiny details in our grooming that would completely miss our notice in anything resembling "the wild". I can relax as I run the clippers across my temples, back and forth in a rhythm and watching what a mere two weeks grew from my head.

This is my favorite haircut I think I've ever had. Long, traditional looking hair when down, with hidden shaved sides when I put it up. They trace the sleek bone structure of my temples. I think they are incredibly sexy. But a lot of people don't, as I would have expected.

Very often the things I am most happy about are the things about me most criticized. Shallow things and deep things.  My hobbies are juvenile, the way I want to dress impulsively is trashy. Then go deeper. "Too nice" is what I'm told for turning the other cheek, for forgiving, for times when I'm able to put my anger aside and just let things happen. These things, to me, are the goals of evolution. Personal and for humanity. To rise above animal instinct into something better, something benevolent. To transform. These things are hard to do, even harder that they aren't understood.

Perhaps that is what my role is to be in the great human narrative. Some people are revolutionaries, thinkers, movers and shakers. I am the friend who will drive you to the airport before 6 am, or the girl who's really good at turning guys down gently. Just being nice, or at least trying to be. Striving to be an Uncarved Block in a winding river of knives.

I think I lightly injured my foot yesterday. Ran on hard concrete in thin plastic sandals to chase a loose dog. I saw him when I was driving home from work, parked my car off to the side -windows down, purse still in it- and herded him into a yard until his owners could be found. There was a sudden deep sting on one of my strides when the ball of my foot hit the ground at one point, and it hasn't been the same. Too hard of a step makes it feel like there is a shard deep inside my foot, like a muscle is pinched. I'm sitting here rubbing my own foot between thoughts.

The other foot feels left out.