"Rapunzel, O Rapunzel, do let down your hair...."
Soft and gentle, caressed by mother. Safe and snug in her arms, dreaming in black and white. Hazy, incoherent dreams. Her needs are small, hunger to be satiated and discomfort alleviated. Safe and secure in the knowledge that all she needs to do is whimper and her needs will be met.
Tentative steps on wobbly legs, curious and questioning eyes ask "How far does this string of yarn go?" or "How does this snowflake taste?" The first voices of dissent are heard but all it takes is a toothless grin or a pucker and her wish is someone's command. Toddle, wobble, smile, giggle, pucker, look, touch, smell and taste....her small world is a playground.
"Amma, why must I grow my hair?" "You may cut it after you get married child. A nice young man will come asking for you and whisk you away on a carriage, but you must make yourself worthy of him. You must learn how to cook, clean, keep yourself spiffy and learn how to sew and darn. Don't forget to keep your grades up because you must learn to be independent too" "I will not marry Amma. I wish to be free" Mother smiles and indulges "As you wish" and she bounces off to make a mud pile with legs spread and skirt pulled up. Hair falling on her face and tongue sticking out in concentration. Carefree and dreaming of dragonflies and warm sunny beaches. Dreams in technicolor, unmarred by reality.
Shy and awkward with silences abound. Afraid to meet someone's eyes and quick to blush. Her reticence is taken as acceptance. Ravaged by insecurities and ridden with guilt, she comes to expect nothing but heartache and confusion. Are you a friend or a foe or just a bystander? She retreats into her shell time and time again and yet peeks out when her heart heals. She struggles to save the light within her, the flower to be nurtured against the forces of nature and will.
Life goes on in this vein with new worlds, dimensions being added and choices being made. Bombarded by expectations or burdened with being a peacekeeper. Until one day, the withered flower in her heart blossoms once again. She realizes that she is the fulcrum and does not need any other support. She comes into her own and discovers her potential. Her hopes and dreams that have been buried come into the fore. Released thus, there is a peace and acceptance of all that is the past, the present and the future. Nothing matters except for the peace within. She cuts her hair.
"Rapunzel, O Rapunzel, do let down your hair...." "I cannot for I've cut it short. I cannot heal the world or its insecurities. I cannot be patient and kind and understanding. I cannot be politically correct and accepting of your faults. I cannot listen to you and stay protected in this castle. I want to feel the grass under my feet and make my mistakes. I need to stop grooming my hair and use that time to play and explore. I need to live. Please leave me be."
Soft and gentle, caressed by mother. Safe and snug in her arms, dreaming in black and white. Hazy, incoherent dreams. Her needs are small, hunger to be satiated and discomfort alleviated. Safe and secure in the knowledge that all she needs to do is whimper and her needs will be met.
Tentative steps on wobbly legs, curious and questioning eyes ask "How far does this string of yarn go?" or "How does this snowflake taste?" The first voices of dissent are heard but all it takes is a toothless grin or a pucker and her wish is someone's command. Toddle, wobble, smile, giggle, pucker, look, touch, smell and taste....her small world is a playground.
"Amma, why must I grow my hair?" "You may cut it after you get married child. A nice young man will come asking for you and whisk you away on a carriage, but you must make yourself worthy of him. You must learn how to cook, clean, keep yourself spiffy and learn how to sew and darn. Don't forget to keep your grades up because you must learn to be independent too" "I will not marry Amma. I wish to be free" Mother smiles and indulges "As you wish" and she bounces off to make a mud pile with legs spread and skirt pulled up. Hair falling on her face and tongue sticking out in concentration. Carefree and dreaming of dragonflies and warm sunny beaches. Dreams in technicolor, unmarred by reality.
Shy and awkward with silences abound. Afraid to meet someone's eyes and quick to blush. Her reticence is taken as acceptance. Ravaged by insecurities and ridden with guilt, she comes to expect nothing but heartache and confusion. Are you a friend or a foe or just a bystander? She retreats into her shell time and time again and yet peeks out when her heart heals. She struggles to save the light within her, the flower to be nurtured against the forces of nature and will.
Life goes on in this vein with new worlds, dimensions being added and choices being made. Bombarded by expectations or burdened with being a peacekeeper. Until one day, the withered flower in her heart blossoms once again. She realizes that she is the fulcrum and does not need any other support. She comes into her own and discovers her potential. Her hopes and dreams that have been buried come into the fore. Released thus, there is a peace and acceptance of all that is the past, the present and the future. Nothing matters except for the peace within. She cuts her hair.
"Rapunzel, O Rapunzel, do let down your hair...." "I cannot for I've cut it short. I cannot heal the world or its insecurities. I cannot be patient and kind and understanding. I cannot be politically correct and accepting of your faults. I cannot listen to you and stay protected in this castle. I want to feel the grass under my feet and make my mistakes. I need to stop grooming my hair and use that time to play and explore. I need to live. Please leave me be."
