The World Is My Oyster

I've never really understood that saying - until now.

Today a "bad hair day" taught me that pearls await discovery in the most unexpected, even ugly-looking, places.

Oysters are not very beautiful to look from on the outside. They are knobby, gray, and look like something that ought to be thrown away. But pearls, real pearls, have a wondrously soft luster and are remarkably beautiful, no matter what color they are.

I discovered a pearl today in the oddest of places - my bathroom sink. There I was, minding my own business, giving myself a good shave, mentally planning the details of my final job-hunting expedition before I retire - the second trip to the "Deep South" in two weeks.

(In this last month I've put approx. 3,600 miles on the old Jeep. I've narrowed my "next career" down to 2 or three choices now. I wonder where I'll settle.)

I looked down into the sink and there was HAIR. Not just the short bristle of beard from shaving my face, mind you, but the long, thick, wavy hair from my head! And lots of it. It's true that lately I've been noticing places where I can see my scalp where my hair used to cover it nicely. But it was a shock, I admit, to scoop up an entire handful of my own hair from out of the sink and off the cabinet top! I've prided myself in having a good-looking head of hair. I've been grateful the wounds of war at least left me that.

And in this culture, unless you go bald for the sake of fashion, it's an "ugly" thing to get old and to lose your hair. Looks are everything now, and youth, leanness and physical perfection are worshipped. The loss of one's hair (the remnants of one's youth?), is usually considered to be cause for great mourning, and often causes a mad rush of searching for a hair-restoring product to reclaim one's lost hair (read youth and beauty) . In this world, physical beauty seem to be equated with power, knowledge, and having "what it takes." An acquaintance of mine, a businessmann, pays out smartly each month for hair-restoring products - so his propects will think well of him, think he's "beautiful", and buy what he's selling. Bunk!

I am truly grateful to have had a different experience this morning. After the initial shock of the thought "Oh, No! What's wrong with me?," I found myself grinning. I gathered up the "image of my youth" by the handful, threw it in the garbage, and realized that I seem to have associated thinning hair, baldness, even aging itself, with wisdom - and I seem to see aging as a good thing.

Then a memory came back to me - As a child, my dearly-loved grandfather would let me rub his shiny pate as he told me how glad he was to be looking so "sage." He said, "When you lose your hair, you become very, very wise. Someone who lives life with wisdom is called a "sage." That sounded good to me. I thought my grandfather was a pretty smart guy and I wanted to be just like him.

I don't know if I'll ever be a sage, but at least I may be acquiring the look of one. The thought makes me chuckle even now as I write. Maybe I'm just molting, like the birds, with the change of season. Certainly, my upcoming retirement from the Corps is a "change of season" of a sort.

I wonder - Is our experience of everyday events governed solely by our perception? Because of my own experience, I know that people and circumstances are often judged solely by the way they look. I value highly seeing - and being seen - from a perpespective that sees beyond the outside image of things. That's why "The Raggedy Man" is my all-time favorite poem. (See my very first post on the blog.) It tells of children who see clearly, and a man who is really "seen."

Nothing truly bad happened today. But it could have been a much more traumatic experience for me, that's for sure. Even with seeing all that hair in the sink, and what that might mean, the feelings of fear and loss were short. Almost immediately my view brightened with warm memories of my grandfather and what I had gained from his perspective which I had unknowingly adopted. What a beautiful pearl that perspective was for me now! I was able to look at the situation from a totally different standpoint, yielding different feelings altogether. Rather than the hair loss putting me into a self-esteem crisis, I now had a warm remembrance of love, and a glowing perspective for my own future. My perception is what made the difference. Who would have thought that finding a handful of hair in the bathroom sink could end up being such a positive, even confidence building, experience. Oorah!

Now, if I can just do the same about that extra 20 pounds that's parked around my midsection!