My mother cut my hair till I become a man of my own.
Between the snippy iron scissor blades, her caressed pointy fingers show deep love and care with aim for perfection and styles. I literally fall asleep until she manages to straighten my head.
You simply can't do much with your head and your body. You just have to stay still and listen to her advice anyway. Having a hair cut to me is about refreshing my brain by getting rid of head weight and "brain poo". When I was 13, I had to move away from home for schooling on my own and I still missed her delicate fingers snipping my hair. I still then managed to come back home often for my hair cut and pocket money. Having a hair cut seems to be a ritual to me; it is time for communication and meditation.
From such follicles of memories, one important question always stands out that defines my passion and motivation throughout my journey.
"If one had more than enough money to live a second life, what should be the plan? why not retire young? why not slow down?" As she tossed this question, she knows I never give up on things I love and she never asks me to slow down.
When your mother asks, "Do you want a piece of advice?" it is a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway!
