cutting loose

I shaved off my beard just now. This was the longest stretch I've kept one--half a year. It had grown in more evenly than I thought was possible and filled in patches that lesser beards lay naked. I think I could have kept it forever. I'm sure I'll grow it again. Starting now. This is the pleasure of facial hair, that it grows back, like the tail or head of the (apocryphal?) worm, undeterred by age or available resources. It almost feels like I must cut if off from time to time, if only to validate its regeneration, if not also to test my responses to loss and repair on a micro-scale.

Though I've found it to be a little unruly in the last couple of days and thought it might make me look haggard at moments, too, I really shaved it off for this more self-symbolic reason, to signify a new beginning. I've done this before, and it doesn't always take, but sometimes I need the symbolic action to give me forward momentum and a new start. Here's hoping.