They’ve accumulated the scent of many a party, felt the air of many locations, died multiple shades of red (color altered by swimming in brine), and mingled with the likes of kitten fur. They are now long enough to even clip up or tie back. Most importantly they have marked the amount of change I have made in my life.
Growing out dreadlocks has been the most outwardly symbolic form of change I have ever made. The moments when I reflect on all the strides of this past year and the experiences I have had throughout the course of my short life, all go back to the brief interval when I stopped and twisted in my dreads. No one has ever died them, styled them, or twisted them for me. The time at which they do will likely be the same moment I decide to cut them off.
No, this is not Rasta.
These locks were inspired by the tattoo I got just two years prior of Shiva Nataraja. An androgynous god, ruler over all nature and symbolizing both the male and female sexes, he is the patron of all ascetics and learners. In Nataraja he dances on the Dwarf of Ignorance in a ring of fire. His closed eyes remind the audience that time will end for a new beginning when they open. He is always depicted as having a long deluge of dreadlocks, portraying his disinterest in the material world.
No, this is not Hindu.
This is a boon.
