Savor this mindfuck man, for you are not what your hair is and you are not what your skin is (you know this but it is always a shocking refresher when it is suddenly exposed again), and when people clap for you it is not because they think you are now better, but that they think complementary thoughts about your appearance, and that they KNOW it takes some balls to make a radical change, especially when one is as stubbornly self-identified as a rasta man can be. (I've known lots of rasta!)
You ahve experienced a true existential moment, when the tiny smallness of our being crashes with the infinite vastness of our being.
The same experience is felt by those entering monastic lives, when their hair is shorn and they are strpped of all that marks them in their self-created identity. what you are feeling when you look in the mirror is the shock of the rebirth, of the transience of identity. It is a beautiful thing.
You are now Yin to your past Yang. You have crossed the rubicon. you have reached the back of the blue bus.
