One year. It’s been an entire year since I last shaved off my goatee. When I first decided to go one day, then two, then three, then a whole week on what was essentially a whim, I had no idea where I was headed. My nerves were so shot by the end of that first week that I couldn’t even imagine going an entire month much less a year. I couldn’t imagine doing any of the things that I have now done while sporting my own unique version of a goatee. It only seems appropriate that I stop for a moment to reflect. This is my Ode to the Goatee.
Not that I have decided to ditch it, because I haven’t. The entire way through I have woken up with the open question: to keep it or not to keep it? While that question was quite loaded for much of the way, these days it is more of a curiosity floating around in the background. In the foreground I hardly think about it anymore. It’s just a part of me, no different from any other part of me. As I wonder about whether or not I want to keep my goatee now, what comes up is the opposite question of whether or not I want to resume all of the time consuming plucking, trimming, and shaving. Not that my goatee doesn’t require maintenance. It’s just that that maintenance is actually, well… fun.
Not too long after being set free, my goatee decided to take a turn. It whirled back up toward its roots, expressing itself by creating a curly cue. “Free at last! Look at how I can flip upside down and over!! Doesn’t it make you smile?! Don’t I look like a magical creature?!” She didn’t whisper, she shouted. She didn’t hide, she made herself as big as she could muster. She wasn’t angry, she was joyful. She didn’t push away, she invited you to look closer, to come closer. “Come and see me! Let’s get to know one another,” she excitedly exclaimed like a newborn who had just entered the world.
Did anyone bite? I can’t say for sure what effect it has had on those who have or have not approached me. I can only observe that as time has passed, people have seemed to shy away less. No doubt that was a reflection of my own growing comfort level with myself. That nobody has dared to ask me directly about my goatee hardly matters. The only thing that matters is whether or not I accepted my goatee’s invitation. And that I did. I’ve let her grow to her heart’s content- about 6 inches long to date. I’ve tended her each morning, encouraging her own unique expression… often laughing, smiling, beholding, appreciating. I would like to think that in turn my goatee smiles upon me, daring to show up as I am.
We have become one, me and my goatee. That dread about the maintenance involved if I were to choose not to keep her is really only a secondary thought. The truth is that now I am having a hard time even thinking about not keeping her. If I were to shave her off, I know I’d more than miss her- I would feel like I had lost a part of me. Of course it’s just hair, right? It would grow back, but still! I suppose she will always be with me, no matter what.
I used to think that I would be done with this experiment when it no longer mattered to me whether or not I let my goatee be. When it mattered not whether I chose to let it grow or not, I would be healed. It never occurred to me that actual healing would come when I truly fell in love with her. Not in any superficial sort of way, but with that deep understanding and appreciation that comes with being in an unconditional and allowing relationship. Healing comes in the recognition of and gratitude for our shared uniqueness, our inseparability no matter the time or the distance or the difference, our interdependence bolstered by our individuality, and our grand excursion into the relative so that we might experience once again the mind-blowing grandeur and mystery of our Oneness.
Thank you, Goatee, for being my companion, my teacher, my guide, my guru. It would make me happy to watch you flaunt yourself for another day. Have at it, Dear. I love you.