Carrie Link

PLUS


I walk into the salon Wednesday and am instantly greeted by Doug, Sue and Cindy, three darlings of Darling's Hair Salon.

"Oh! Look at your cute outfiit!" they say. So kind of them to say so, considering I am in workout clothes, hair hidden beneath a hat.

"You do NOT want to see what is under this hat!" I warn as they giggle graciously.

Doug with his psychic ability only equal to his hairstyling ability, takes a closer look at me and says, "Uh oh, what's the matter with you?"

"Oh, Doug, everything. I'm not OK, I'm really sad and everything is falling apart."

"Well, let's see what's going on," he says, removing my baseball cap and nearly gasping with the fright underneath. "Good Lord! Something is giving you grey hairs! What's going on?"

"I can't really talk about it, Doug, and besides, I don't understand it well enough myself to be able to explain it to you."

"Honey! You don't have to. Let me get a vibe."

With one hand on the nape of my head where the new grey hairs have taken hold, he closes his eyes and proceeds to tell me everything that is going on. Everything.

Doug, with his perfectly starched, yellow, Ralph Lauren oxford shirt, sleeves rolled up with precision, his glasses that are that special kind of crystal that is supposed to impress me, but doesn't because I can't even remember the name of it, his own buzzed head, picture of his "husband" on his cell phone screen, he knows. He knows everything.

Is Doug psychic or am I finally transparent? I stated as a goal for my "Power Year" to be transparent - to hold no secrets, to be completely open and vulnerable, what you see is what you get, no hidden agendas, no ulterior motives, as ego-less as humanly possible for those of us un-enlightened beings.

I'm pretty sure it's the former, I'm not at the end of that lofty goal, but I am further along with it than I was when I began in February. I am much better at not spinning a story in my favor. I am better at owning my own responsibility in matters of the heart and soul. I am also much, much more of a crier than I was in February. When the mask began to drop, so did the tears.

I can't quite get it up to a really good boo-hoo, but there are tears. Tears are truths. We cry when we are on to something. I'm on to something. So is Doug. And besides, I have a cute new haircut.