Frozen Walk

Walking in the falling snow is one of my favorite things to do so when I woke up on Saturday morning and saw the snow coming down, I immediately grabbed my warmest winter gear and headed out to Belmont Harbor.

The snow underfoot was thick and perfectly white and unlike other times I've been out for winter walks, the lake wasn't a blanket of snow. It was criss-crossed with jagged paths, shards of ice grinding into each other at the tide's will. It looked like it was breathing, a regular ebb and flow as if I'd come upon it while it was asleep. Sometimes it hissed, sometimes it tinkled, and sometimes it squeaked and groaned. It had so many different voices. 

It felt like another world, nothing like the urban sprawl I think of when I think of Chicago. Whatever it was, it was great to find myself transported. I felt like an adventurer. Like Ernest Shackleton or another one of the Antarctic explorers. 

It was so gorgeous, I spent nearly two hours out there. There was so much to see and understand. If you listen, there are lessons in all of it. From the churning lake, I learned how all the parts are connected, how the particles fit together to create a whole. Just like the ice, there are things between us (on a subatomic level) that grind up against each other. Sometimes we feel separated from other things, contained in our own bodies. But we're not. We are all influenced by each other's movements through the world and faraway things can be touched. I found a lot of comfort in that. I felt one with everything instead of alone. Despite the cold sapping my body's reserves, I walked away energized.  

I took a handful of photos out there. I hope you enjoy them and they inspire you to put on your boots to witness the mysterious and powerful side of our beautiful city. 

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

For a few weeks, I have considered dying my hair darker. On Friday night, in the company of a good friend, a beer, and a bowl of brunette hair dye, I finally did it.

I was overwhelmed saying goodbye to one of the few constants in my life. I was a toe-head from the day I arrived. From the beginning. And the hugeness of separating from that to be something new and different was terrifying. I shed a few tears, but assured Mary Beth I didn't want to stop. She didn't put the brush down. And here I am.

I feel new.  

One of the main reasons I put it off so long was because I was worried people would think I was having a Brittany moment and in my insane haze had colored my hair in the same way she'd shaved her head and attacked a car with an umbrella.

And if I can be frank, the truth isn't far from that. But instead of it being a symptom of a downwards spiral, it was actually the opposite: controlling and righting a tailspin. If you've been following my real life for the past few months, you might recall my September of Sorrow where I stripped a whole bunch of shit away and collapsed in on myself like a dying star. Since then, I've enjoyed the rebuilding process. It's been chaos and discovery and acceptance and joy. For the first time in my life, I feel integrated within myself.

And as I discovered more of myself, I found that my blonde hair just didn't fit anymore.

I think a lot of people see me as a sunny and upbeat person. I am on some days, sure. I love to play and have fun and laugh. But those feel like responses to actions, not my own natural state. Not how I experience myself. And if you don't see that, then I regret to inform you that you've been a victim of a lie I have lived well. The script calls for an unflappably positive person who doesn't need help and can't be knocked down. A person who has some key catchphrases including "Everything's good" and "I'm fine". The more agitated I am internally, the more likely I am to be smiling on the outside. It's really fucking annoying.

And that's what my blonde hair had become to me. It was part of this role I was playing. It was the "happy" disguise. There's just something about a blonde that doesn't say "I'm serious." To me it seems happy-go-lucky and lighthearted. Maybe it's a stereotype, but I bought into it. And that's not me. I feel so much more at home with dark hair. Like I LOVE it.

It may be a superficial thing to change, but that understates what's really going on. It IS important. It's the skin I have to live in all the time and I wholeheartedly believe that the outside should match the inside. I did this so you will understand me more and we can start talking.

And because it was much cheaper than getting this tattoo: