I will always remember my encounter with the Female Christ, known also as White Buffalo Calf Woman and a host of other names. One of the things that forever struck me about her was her hair. Her head hair flowed down her back all the way down to the backs of her knees. Seeing her hair I was thrust into a state of rapture.
Is that too radical a thing to say?
As everyone knows, human head hair is an organ of the body. It is the organ in which we store our mojo. It is an organ that is a vital part of our inner intuitive psychic abilities. Every one of our head hairs is a psychic antenna.
Everyone surely has heard the true story about how the U. S. military during the Vietnam War recruited numerous Native Americans who possessed incredible psychic scouting abilities. The native peoples had always shown incredible scouting abilities going back to the horrific war against them. The American army wanted someone to let them know where the Vietcong were.
As the army did with all recruits, they buzzed off almost all the head hair of those talented Native American recruits upon enlistment. That’s what the army had always done for many years.
To the army’s surprise, once those Native American recruits had all their long hair buzzed off they suddenly no longer had their amazing psychic scouting ability. They were suddenly no longer any better qualified to be a scout than any other soldier.
Is it any wonder? The army cut off their organ which contained their psychic mojo.
The last time I cut my head hair was the first week of October, 1986. That’s right, it’s been almost 33 years since I’ve cut my hair. After all that time you would think that my hair reaches down to the backs of my ankles by now but sadly that is not the case. It only reaches down to the middle of my back. It’s been that same length for the last 29 or 30 years. It has not gotten any longer in the last three decades!
At the time my little girl (my greatest teacher) was still in her mother’s belly, I was deeply involved with Lakota spirituality. I was doing two to five sweat-lodges a month. I was an apprentice to a pipe-carrier but I never achieved that ranking because my pipe-carrier suddenly left town after his wife ran away. So I never got my title.
My immersion into Lakota spirituality was not just about status. It was also what I learned about Lakota culture. In that ancient culture there was something known as a ‘love pledge.’ In modern times a man and woman will enter into marriage, their love pledge being signified by a written document and maybe a ring.
That meant nothing to the native people. They pledged something more personal, more meaningful, something more mojo-centric. They would pledge their hair.
When a man and woman wanted to tie the spiritual knot they would pledge — make an agreement with the Creator — something very personal. What is more personal than their hair? After all, it is the human organ in which humans hold their mojo! In what amounted to a marriage, they would pledge their hair to each other. This meant that they would never, ever cut their hair as long as the other one was alive. If the one they made their hair pledge to should die then the one who made the pledge to them would then cut off all their hair, braid it and then toss it onto the funeral pyre where the dead body was so that when the body was cremated the smoke from both the dead person and the hair from their love-partner would go up in smoke together and rise up into the afterlife together. In that ancient society if you ever saw any Lakota of either gender who had a shaved head then you knew they were in a state of mourning for someone they had made a hair love pledge to who died.
So in that first week of October, 1986 I buzzed all my hair off and then suddenly I was holding a brand new human in my arms. From that very moment I was never again the same. And then I remembered the Lakota love-pledge and I decided to make one. It was a pledge that I not only made to that little angel in my arms but it was a pledge, a promise, I made to the Creator!
To God! I have never broken a promise that I have made to God.
With that squishy little newborn human in my arms I made a promise to God that I would never cut my hair again as long as my daughter was alive. I pledged my hair to her. My hair became an act of love. It was a Lakota love pledge.
My hair is a testament of my love for my beloved daughter.
How many people can say that?
My daughter is now 33 years old and so is my hair. Like I said, you would think that my hair would be down to the backs of my ankles by now but it is not. It has been the same length now for around thirty years. It got down to the middle of my back and stopped growing.
I fantasize about being naked and shaking my head and feeling the end of my hair tickling my buttocks. How awesome would that be? Sadly, that has yet to happen. But feeling my hair wave back and forth against the middle of my back is still a feeling that ignites my soul. That is when I can feel the mojo in my hair. That is when I can feel the love that I pledged to my daughter.
I’d love for my hair to grow even longer. Approximately 8,432 different women have told me that the secret to growing longer hair is to periodically cut off the ends. That stimulates growth.
But I just can’t do that. Part of that hair pledge I made to God and my daughter involved the promise that my hair would never come into contact with metal. As we all know, scissors are made with metal. In the last 33 years I have tied my hair back in a ponytail when I am working but I have always made sure that none of those hair ties contained metal. For 33 years no metal has touched my hair; my organ of psychic mojo. Never. Ever.
When I make a promise to God I keep it!
You wouldn’t personally take a scalpel to your liver or your pancreas or your gut. Why the bloody hell would anyone take metal scissors to their hair — another vital organ? Seriously, why the fuck would anyone do that? For the reason of fashion? For convenience? Out of habit? Out of social pressure?
Why do people not realize that when they cut their hair they are chopping off part of a vital organ of their body? Why are they so blissfully unaware of what they are doing?
Modern Western society strives to keep people separated from their power, their mojo, and their bodies. It wants to subdue natural psychic ability and intuition. It wants to keep people’s focus on what they are being conditioned to believe. When the U. S. Army cut off the hair of those Native American psychic masters they were cutting off their natural psychic abilities and basic spiritual ties to the world around them.
And that is what Western Society continues to do with all people. Through fashion and other societal pressures it continues to encourage people to chop off parts of an organ of their own bodies. It is far easier to control people with short hair than those with long hair who refuse to give up their natural intuitive psychic abilities. It’s all about control. Through thousands of years of human history those in charge have attempted to control the masses by urging them to cut their hair.
And the masses remain ignorant of this fact. They unknowingly obey.
I recently broke a personal record. Those following my writing know that I recently retired from that oppressive thing known as employment. Over the last three decades I have always tied my hair back in a pony tail when I went to work. Seriously, hair can get in the way.
But since I worked my very last day back in December I have not once tied my hair back in a pony tail. Not once! When I retired I ‘let my hair down’ and it has been down ever since, flowing free and how ever the wind blows it.
For six months now I have not once tied my hair back. I have not once constrained my natural psychic ability and intuition. It is a new all-time record. My hair, a natural organ of my body, remains utterly free and utterly unconstrained. I’ll brush it but I won’t tie it or allow metal to touch it. And I certainly, under any circumstances, won’t cut it.
I try to treat my other organs as lovingly.
Since I almost never measure things, I’m not certain about this but I have a suspicion that my hair — six months free of any constraints — has finally started to grow again. I sure hope so. And I also hope that my daughter outlives me because I don’t want to cut my hair ever again.
How do you treat your hair?
Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved.
White Feather Stories
Speaking of little girls…