I've been letting my hair grow out for over 2 years, and it had finally gotten long enough that it both could be and needed to be styled. For those who don't know me, I have a mop of curls, so finding a stylist has always been a challenge. I had done my homework and located someone with advanced training in curls. I showed up expecting my usual 20-30 minute cut. Was I ever in for a surprise!
For two hours I was pampered and cared for as never before. Now I think that I should clarify: this was not a spa treatment or even coloring. This was a two-hour haircut and shampoo. My hair looked nice, but that became almost incidental to how the treatment felt.
What was particularly interesting to me in retrospect was the cycle of feelings I experienced over the two hours. Initially, I was relaxed...until the cutting part went on for almost an hour with stylist taking just a few strands at a time and studying them before cutting--not in a weird way but in a very attentive and caring way.
Then I went through a stage that I can only describe as discomfort with deserving such attention. Next there was the stage of questioning: did I accidentally sign up for the wrong thing and wouldn't be able to pay for it at the end? (No.) At last, I just relaxed and experienced the joy of pampering. In this stage I didn't care how much this cost: it was worth it.
As I walked to the train to meet a friend for dinner, I wondered; I wondered about the Protestant Work Ethic and what it had done to us. One of my coaching clients summarized it as "work hard and keep your nose clean." That's pretty much how I've lived.
This afternoon something seemed terribly wrong with that. I felt present and loved. I felt like I was really able to be patient and to connect with people, even in the end-of-the-week, rush-hour bustle of the city. I've never felt like that when I've been doing the Protestant Work Ethic "work hard thing."
I just haven't allowed myself to receive, even when I am sick. Last winter I had been very sick and thought I ought to get back to work. I was still so weak that my legs were shaking and still I went for my coat. If my legs hadn't given out at that moment, I would probably have pushed on. How does pushing to work make sense when my body is screaming for some tender loving care?
As I've been writing this, I've recalled being in a new city for work a few years ago. A friend who had worked there shortly before told me about a special restaurant. He said it would not be on my expense account budget, but promised that it would be worth the splurge. It was. I enjoyed every bite. When the waiter brought my check, I had only been charged for the glass of wine I had with dinner. The waiter said the chef and the rest of the staff had so delighted in watching the enjoyment I had with the meal that the rest was on the house. When we allow others to care for us, we give them pleasure as well. We create connection when none would have been there in a "work hard" state of being.
Perhaps this is how we start the flow of Love. I've been concerned about giving love when I might generate more Love by receiving it. For me that is a tremendous stretch, since allowing myself to be loved will require undoing a lifetime of programming. But again stretching is how we grow.
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