hair and spirituality

Right now I’m letting some red dye set in my hair. When I rinse it out in a little while, the long part at the top of my head will be a bright orange-red color. For now, I’m sitting around in naught but my undies, drinking rum and apple cider and listening to Black Sabbath while the spouse-unit plays video games. Just another typical Wednesday.

The other day, after asking to see my i.d. (sigh, I’m getting used to it), the friendly young woman working at the liquor store remarked that she thought it was interesting/cool that I’m a natural ginger but still dye my hair red. For contextual purposes, I dye the long top part and leave the rest natural. I’m in the process of growing it out so I can have Epic Viking Hair to accompany my Totally Badass Mutton Chops.

But anyhow, where am I going with this? Ah, yes, hair and spirituality. Last week I made a post about feeling hesitant regarding pagan women choosing to wear head coverings. I was leery about the possibility of cultural appropriation (after seeing some posts that felt very appropriate-y) but it seems several people mis-read my intentions, thinking I was questioning the idea of wearing something to cover one’s hair for religious reasons. (In actuality, that was not my intent at all, and I enthusiastically support anyone of any religion who chooses to cover their hair for religious reasons! No, seriously, I honestly think it’s awesome!)

Oh, yeah, hair color. Warning: this may sound a little out there, but some time last year I was doing something unrelated (possibly working or showering or something similarly boring), when I suddenly got the urge — and when I say “urge” was, uh, more like a psychic slap to the back of the head — to dye my hair flame-red. At the time it was an undershave with the top dyed green or maybe blue and purple or even a full rainbow, I forget (it all kind of blurs together, especially when I was changing it every month or so last winter, which seemed to delight the regular customers at my old store). And this “urge” felt like one of those… shall I say… messages from the gods? Or, you know, a message from a very certain one.

Now, I’m not gonna say, “Loki told me to dye my hair red” but uh…. Loki kinda sorta told me to dye my hair red? I’m not even gonna pretend that doesn’t sound bizarre.

So for the past year or so, I’ve had my hair in various combinations of hot flame-colors. I feel like…. like it’s spiritually significant, that it shows my dedication to Flame-Hair, that it is a visual reminder to me every time I look in a reflective surface or at a photo of myself.

It’s been months since I last dyed my hair (probably because it was easier at our last apartment in Boston, which had one of those detachable-hose showerheads) so I’m actually pretty pumped about this.