First Post: Curly-Haired Girls & “Hair in Art” discussion of the two Marys.

I have been meaning to start this category for quite a while, and today is the day!

There is so much to say, but I’m trying to learn “edit” to essence. Baby steps.

So I’ll start.

Dedication Page

This was inspired by the sisterhood of:

Gina Graves Lloyd

Lisa Revare Hickok

Lenise Rudnick Ward

Lacy Amelia Adams

Janet Rosel Willimon

The Bijin Curly Haired Girl Consultant

and all of the other curly-haired women

in life with whom I’ve discussed hair.

So, this is the reason why today was the day.

I have tried to capture my head in this picture to illustrate my morning.

Attempting front and back view of hair breaking into freedom.

[This picture was trying to give you both a front view with the cowlicks at the side, and the back with the super tight curl at nape but frizzy fluff on top. My genre of au natural(ly) curly hair takes a bit of work & product to look good. I have done nothing + wind. ]

I woke up early, so started the day at 6:30 yoga fix, armed with every possible makeup and toiletry item to hit the ground running in this part of town after my bakery pickup.  But of course, there is always the one forgotten item. In this case, two.

Now I can handle the day perfectly fine without one or the other (and we all can admit to goin’ cowboy a time or two by necessity, can’t we?). But both the up under and the down under is just a bit too risqué. My dress was floaty, there was a slight wind, and I get my pain au chocolat at Hi Hat* right by yoga.

[*Which, by the way, in the summer is so intimidating on the front brickyard that I now wait inside and chat with Jamie].

Main idea here:  at 52, no one wants to witness a dress that (as Shirley MacLaine said to her daughter Meryl Streep) “just twirled up!” or a Courtney Love stray mamelon, even through fabric.

So, I was left without the blow-dry to pick up my baked goods, clutching my jean jacket at the waist and anchoring my chiffonade-ish fabric.

But I was thinking as I was driving back to The Illinois where I live in Hyde Park….

what if, just today,

I first put as much energy,

at the beginning of the day,

on a conscious focus

of controlling self: thoughts, words, actions, deeds

instead of

controlling the true integrity of my hair?

[and actually, I have to confess that upon downloading the picture, I noticed my Grandmother’s Zorach Madonna and Child that are on the demi-lune under the mirror. So of course, I had to look up some pictures in Gardner’s Art Through the Ages to see pictures of both the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalen to see if they had curly hair. This is not to compare myself with their thoughts, words, actions and deeds, though I wonder if subconciously I may have been doing so (so, ego check, though it is always good to aspire to great women).

Mainly, I just wanted to check out their hair. For the record, Mary Magdalen usually has just a bit of a wave which is pretty low maintenance. She is most often portrayed as a bit weary which is of course her sorrow at finding Jesus’ body removed, but also understandable given her early life.  The Virgin Mary always has that veil over her head. I bet she realized early on that the Son of God was going to be a bit of an unruly-handful-of-a-boy to the point of going missing that day he ran off to his Father’s house, which scares any parent silly. By the way, the storyteller Reverend Paul Rock at Second Pres gives me all this great material. Check him out.]

So here in my confession of the meaning

of that tangent, or lack? of focus…

I am not sure sometimes

when I do try to control what I can,

my thoughts, words, actions, deeds

if I am doing so,

or if I am going on some other path?

And so this reminder again.

When I direct my gaze,

I should pause so often

to recognize

that I am only

a soldier.

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