"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster.
And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you."
— Friedrich Nietzsche, "Beyond Good and Evil"
Actually, it's the Year of the Dragon according to the Chinese Zodiac. For me, though, 2012 has been the Year of the Hare Hair. After four years of being BBC (bald by choice) or nearly so (depending on the week or how often I shaved), I decided to let my hair grow out, partly due to curiosity, partly due to laziness. I noticed that I have some more silver in my hair since the last time I saw it. I'm okay with that. I like it, in fact.
I've also decided to grow out my Decembeard this month. I always have a goatee, but I figured I'd let all of it grow out. I shaved on December 2, so I got a late start on the full beard. Here's what I got to far:
The goal of those who dare grow the Decembeard is to see how full the beard will be by Manuary 1, 2013. Yes, Manuary. A time for all real men to show their real manliness. Anyway, again, I'm seeing more silver than the last time I grew out the full beard. I had already noticed the hint of a silver streak beginning to form down the middle of my goatee. And, again, I like it. I'm a bit fascinated by it, really. It doesn't show up all that well in camera phone pics, but it's there.
I appreciate the passing of time. I have memories of what feel like past lives, and reflections of moments and experiences that have made me who I am. I finally understand how precious life is. Every moment. Every breath. Every second. Every new strand of silver hair. Every scar, every wrinkle, every ache and pain, every tear, every laugh, every smile. It all means so much.
Life is hard. Life is pain. life is loss. All of this is true. I miss my dad. I miss Steve. I miss my grandfather. I miss my closest friends who live far away whom I don't get to see nearly as often as I used to. I still feel the sting of failed relationships, and feel fear because of those failures. I know what a broken heart feels like. I know what it's like to, as Nietzsche said, "gaze long into an abyss." I know what it's like to fight with monsters, and feel as though I'm becoming a monster myself.
I finally realize the cure is laughter. Not just laughter, but learning how to enjoy life, in spite of its many imperfections. The ability to laugh, with the willingness to allow oneself to be happy - and, indeed, one must allow oneself to be happy - is the cure for those moments when "the abyss gazes into you." Sometimes we need something to shock us out of our funk - a crude joke, a playful poke at ourselves.
When someone asks me, "are you married?" I usually answer with, "occasionally."
I've learned to laugh at myself, even make jokes at my own expense. It's not because I hate myself. Quite the opposite. It reminds us that it really isn't the end of the world, even though we sometimes feel like it is. It shows us that the pain, the sorrow, the loss and the crises of our lives aren't so powerful that it forces us to cease to live and love and feel joy.
I've learned to cry, and not be ashamed of it. I'm confident in my manhood to admit this. And honestly, I don't give a biscuit's worth of gravy about my "manhood." I refuse to ignore how I feel because someone created some arbitrary set of rules for how "real men" are supposed to act. I'm sure these rules came from the same minds that hate gay people and disrespect women.
Besides, I'm probably a much better fighter than most of those "real men." #StillSufferingFromMaleEgo
I've learned that I deserve to be happy. I'm not perfect, and neither is anyone else. I've made mistakes, I've botched things up so badly at times that I have despised the person I saw in the mirror. But that's just life. That's how it goes. Everyone has skeletons in the closet. And that's okay. There's a quote floating around the Internet that gets attributed to George Bernard Shaw, and I absolutely love it (whether he said it or not I don't know):
"If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you'd best teach it to dance."
And don't say "That's easier said than done." Of course it's easier said than done. Just about everything is easier to say than to do. "Easier said than done" is not an answer. It's just an excuse.
And here I thought I was just writing about my hair.
— Dead-Logic
