So I got a haircut today, which next to therapy (which also happened this week) is just the best thing ever. The same guy has been cutting my hair for nearly seven years and he’s wonderful. Typically I don’t trust people who don’t have curly hair, but I trust Frank.
One of the great things about our relationship is that there’s not a lot of pressure to talk. He gets talked at for a living; I get talked at for a living; so early on we decided only necessary talking for us. No need to fill the space. Our days have enough talking.
Frank also knows what I do; he understands the rhythms of my year and the challenges and hard realities of my job. Usually this manifests itself in his taking a careful read of my body language before asking me how I’m doing when I first walk in- I’ve been known to burst into tears because it’s been a terrible week. It also means he knows the importance of a May haircut- this is stress relief as much as basic hair maintenance.
So he’s cutting my hair today and he just finished asking me how many days were left in the semester. There was a pause in the conversation and he very calmly said “resist the pull”. My mind started reeling- resist what pull? The pull to check out before it was over? The pull of student’s stress and anxiety? The pull to buy problems that aren’t mine? OF WHAT PULL DOES HE SPEAK?? WHAT DO I RESIST?!
And again he said “resist the pull”. That’s when I realized he was cutting some layers in the back and he needed me to move my head forward while he pulled the hair back. Perhaps I ought to just resist the pull of over-complicating things and enjoy the damn haircut.