Bucket-less Bucket Lists

Today, I donated my hair to Locks of Love.

Although I’ve been planning to do it for a while, I must confess feeling a little like Jo in Little Women, and that “vain part of me” misses my long hair. However, the fact that I was really worried/nervous/almost chickened out tells me it was probably a good time to do it.

Donating my hair is one of the first things I’ve been able to “check off” my unofficial bucket-less bucket list.

I don’t want to be the kind of person who can only repeat, with envy, the stories of others.

I’ve been thinking a lot in the past year about what it means to live fully, and to live free from fear, rather than carpe diem. I think living free from fear means being wholly present in whatever circumstances I find myself, willing to experience both delight and sorrow without hiding, and keeping my eyes open for glimpses of beauty in the people, events, and places I encounter.

I’m still formulating my ideas, and I doubt I’ll formally write a checklist, because for me it’s harder to take advantage of spontaneous opportunities than to make lists.

Some ideas are trivial, some serious: I’d like to road trip across the United States, volunteer with a humanitarian/social justice organization here or overseas, perform in a musical, and ride in a hot air balloon, among other things.

There are elements of fear in each, and that’s part of the reason I want to do them; because I know there is something more than the fear, and the ability to step out in faith is part of being healed, of being made new.

So here’s to being made new! (short hair and all…)

Published by Jen

The author of Snark on the Side is not your average run-of-the-millennial generation. Jen is a contradiction in terms: a graceful klutz, a smart blond, a math-savvy English major, a southern liberal, and an employed young adult with a master’s degree. Snark on the Side is a work in progress, born out of years of rambling email newsletters and anthropomorphized Christmas letters, small town observations, and the ever-present irony of pursuing a career with a degree in English literature. Thanks for visiting!

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