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Monday, 7 September 2015

Part Two - Resurrecting the Crone


Tea with Dad

I shuddered as horrified eyebrows raised themselves up to meet Hairline, who stared at him, angrily.

Though largely, they didn’t understand my ‘need to grow old’, my friends were encountering me in an almost imperceptibly different way, like there was someone else emerging from behind my eyes who was viewing them with an odd curiosity. Another friend said I “would look fierce with Grey hair” when the transition was complete. My intention was to transcend any need to look like anything which seeks to please others or meets an outmoded paradigm that not only fixes beauty as a measure of acceptance but seeks to further delete the Crone in wider society.

The experiences of growing up as a ‘seen and not heard, perfect little Asian girl’ were also playing into the richness of this individuation and were beautifully tested during a visit with my Dad.  

Tea with Dad was engaging and lovely with lots of interesting chatter, cheese and Grappa. It was only when leaving that the tone changed and my Dad said, “sweetheart, will you do me a favour on your way home?” “Depends what it is”, came my reply. “Will you call in at a chemist and pick yourself up a hair colour?”

I shuddered as horrified eyebrows raised themselves up to meet Hairline who stared at him, angrily.

“Excuse me?” I replied; my voice low.
“Well”, he came back, “did you know you’re going Grey?”

Like this was something I hadn’t noticed; like there was no mirror in the bathroom!

Take a moment Chrissy. Breathe and focus on the issue in hand. You anger is part of some old programming you’re working to unravel. I noted the elder voice rising up from within. Go with it; see where it takes you.

On recapturing my grace I replied “You’re right, I am going Grey. I’m also noting that of the two of us, only one wants to reverse or delete the process.”

Insert fairly long pause here.

“Oh....erm, no, I’m not being funny......it’s just that you have lovely Asian hair that’s showing every Grey right now.”

Take a moment Chrissy. Breathe and focus on the issue. He’s working through something new; walk with him a while, came the elder voice again.

I remind myself that Dad is a lovely guy, full of wisdom and eccentricity and I remember how dearly I value his old-fashioned weirdness.

Explaining to him that I’m sick of dying my hair in toxic chemicals and sick of the dishonesty of pretending, he looked on, perplexed at my apparent disregard for youth and/or beauty and what I observed was my non-conforming, disobedient hair meeting his resistance. An old perception filter was blocking my Dad’s ability to see me. My transition was proving tricky and my frustration was not serving the purpose. This going Grey thing was bothering us both!

Onward.

Jump forward a few weeks to my next visit on Father’s Day (2015) where I say “Dad, can I ask you a direct question?” He nodded. “Is my going Grey making you face your own mortality?”

“Yes.”

Remember part one where I couldn’t quite name that (insert word here) thing; the thing that happened when I playfully exposed the Greyest streak of my hair to a business colleague, causing him to recoil? This lovely unravelling with my Dad went a long way to answering the thing I couldn’t quite put my finger on all those months ago.

He smiled a cheeky smile, knowing he’d just taken responsibility for his part in this mini-adventure. Knowing he’d judged me based on his own values and beliefs. I felt the chords of entanglement unravel as we gazed at each other, allowing that deep mystical eye connection to do the work needed to set us free.

We had created a space of acceptance and love.


Part three coming soon – The Mirror of Mortality.

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