Hey,
Take a moment and let your body arrive.
Take a cleansing breath in.
Release it.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Welcome to a hit of hope,
And this one is salty.
I'm just going to admit it.
I am of a certain age,
Which means I am now getting chin hairs,
Wiry little bastards that stick out and make me look like one of the witches in Hamlet.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Sometimes,
I can easily pluck them out,
And my relief is palpable.
Oh,
Thank God.
But then there are those that I've already plucked out,
And I can feel them coming back because,
Of course,
They don't stay gone.
But they're too short to grab with tweezers,
And that's when I shake my fist at heaven and start cursing like a sailor.
Are you fucking kidding me?
These are for my grandmother,
Not me.
Inhale.
Exhale.
What's worse is the little monsters love to taunt me.
I'll be sitting in an important meeting,
And my hand will brush my chin,
And oh my God,
There's a damn chin hair.
Or I'm driving,
And all I can do is feel another one,
And I can't take care of it right then and there,
And even if I could,
Often they withstand the attacks of my tweezers and live another day to torment the hell out of me.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Some of you probably think that I am overreacting.
What's the big deal?
Some of you know exactly what I'm talking about.
The frustration,
The endless,
Annoying resurrections.
Thoughts are like chin hairs.
The same ones tend to sprout back up and plague us again and again.
Inhale.
Exhale.
What's more is we can think we've done away with our annoying thoughts.
After all,
Didn't we cry over that jerk or realize why our parental unit behaved the way they did?
But here those thoughts come again,
Crawling back to annoy the bejeebers out of us,
Most often at the most inopportune time.
Inhale.
Exhale.
So what in the hell can we do to pluck out these annoying thoughts?
One option is to think tweezers.
And no,
I am not suggesting you put tweezers up your nose.
It's as the saying goes,
Find the right tool for the job.
And in a way,
You are already doing this.
Meditation.
Meditation is this bright mirror that shows all our chin hairs.
Oh goody,
That's all we need to see the hoard of them right there in their bright and wiry glory.
And it's true.
Meditation can make our thoughts,
Especially the repeat offenders,
Seem unruly,
Rambunctious,
Absolutely overwhelming.
Meditation is not for the faint of heart.
Inhale.
Exhale.
But when we meditate,
At least we become aware of what is there,
Lurking just beneath the surface of everything.
We can see,
Oh,
Here's that same thought again,
The one telling me I'm unworthy,
Or I'm unlovable,
Or I can't trust myself.
We become conscious of what is going on in our brains,
Because it's always going on,
It's just do we know it or not.
And sometimes it can feel like it's painfully so as we become aware of what's going on.
But that is when we breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
And then we can start at least making some decisions out of awareness,
Rather than cluelessness or annoyance or frustration.
Chin hairs are just hairs,
Weeds of the face,
If you will.
Thoughts are just thoughts,
Weeds of the mind.
Notice them and do the work of removing them.
But please realize the real you,
The shining deep and centered you is amazing,
Beautiful,
Astounding,
Weird and smurf-alicious.
Chin hairs and all.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Live light.
