It's October now, so my hair should stop falling out soon. Every September my hair follicles break up with my head. No hanging around mourning lost love for them. No, they fall to the bathroom floor faster than Elizabeth Gilbert, but without the prayers or the crying. Or the New York Times Best-seller List.
So, I'm driving to the salon (for one of the last times!!!!) with Paula's top down this morning. I brush my bangs from my eyes and find half a dozen hairs in my fingers. I flutter my fingers over the window and watch the hairs blast into the past.
And there it is. I'm pretty sure we're all like hairs on the head of the Universe. Some of us fall away. More arrive. We're part of all that is.
Had a discussion with my friend Bryan, who's been thinking deep Buddhist-like thoughts again. He wrote a brilliant piece about the five skandas: form, feeling, perception, intellect, and consciousness. He talks about whether form is separate from spaciousness.
Me? Not so much with the skandas.
My way of looking at it is much more simplistic, related to "Everything's connected." B takes exception with the word "connected," because—to him—the idea of connected implies the possibility of separate.
Again with the not so much.
I don't know from skandas, but I know about loss. And I know that everything lost is also found.
I lost another handful of hair this morning. Some other critter found a bit of insulation for its refuge against the coming winter. And soft, lovely insulation it was, too.
The softer to fall upon, my dear.
PS: Just in case I wasn't clear—I admire the hell out of Bryan's ability to study and elaborate on these ideas, I just don't share it. He is, quite simply, much smarter than I am. Hell, he's smarter than anyone I know or every have known. And yet, we're friends. That remains one of the enduring graces of my life.