Why I cut my hair

For around 16 years I've had long hair and a beard of some description. When I visited Vietnam the people there used to call me Jesu Christu. I've always identified myself as the guy with the long hair and the beard. I guess this was just me. I always felt it suited me and my beard took some of the attention away from my nose, but it was also a good place to hide.

I was on a weekend retreat of sorts a few weeks ago. One of the subjects we spoke about in the morning was on dying and how the Indian warriors used to say "today is a good day to die". I was walking outside afterwards and two of my very good friends called me over and said "today is a good day for a haircut". I of course came up with all the reasons in the world as to why it wasn't such a good idea. They suggested that it was the key to moving forward, and it was the only way I was going to change the way I see myself.

To be honest, I felt angry. What right did they have to pry into my life like that and challenge something that was so much part of who I was? I eventually just walked away and tried to avoid them. But something had been triggered in me and I knew they were right. My reaction to them was a voice I've come to know as my ego - holding on to all it can to survive. I knew it was time, and if I didn't go through with it I would stagnate as a person - stuck in the past and the image I had of myself.
I decided to phone my wife and checked with her how she felt. I could hear that she was unsure - like her husband was becoming a Buddhist monk or something, but as usual she stood by me. Once that was sorted I went to my friend and nervously told her she could cut my hair.

So - there I sat, at her mercy, while my head was shaved. Once it was finished I'm not sure what I felt - but I went down to the sea and washed all the loose hair off, baptising myself. Next was my beard - I wasn't too keen to get it shaved off with my hair, but it looked really silly with short hair so I shaved it off - with just my razor and no shaving cream.

It's now been about 3 weeks with short hair and it’s been very good. It took my daughters a while to get used to their 'new' dad, and my colleagues at work put up a missing poster on the front door. I was also a little nervous going overseas as my passport picture now looked nothing like me. Other than that, I feel a new freedom. Something inside has changed.

I had a look through some old photos and saw a picture of the old me with the 'Jesus' look. I realised with a bit of sadness that this person had died. He was a good guy - but like a caterpillar needs to die to its body in order to learn to fly - I needed to do the same. I’m also really grateful for some really good friends who cared about me enough to see what it was that I needed to do.