Throughout history one of the great taboos has been women with shaven heads.  Indeed, in many cultures a woman's hair is more than her 'crowning glory' it is an outward sign of inner fertility (does that make it a sacrament J? ;-) ) and of course for Sikhs and Nazarites it has immense religious significance.  As I have come to terms, in so far as I can, with the loss of my hair, albeit temporary, I have found myself propelled to the periphery of other people's worlds and been granted just a glimpse of what it might mean, or have meant, for them...

Jewish women (and others) shaved on entry to the death camps

'Collaborators' shaved as punishment for their crimes

Conscripts crew-cut as they enter the service of their nation

Nuns and monks relinquishing the tug of the world's perceived vanity

Today I find myself compelled to pray for the Sikh women undergoing chemotherapy, whose never-cut tresses tumble from their heads under the influence of the drugs.

Today I call to mind the woman with the heamorrhage whose story is told in Luke's gospel, forced to the margins of society and religion by the cruel trick nature played on her body.

Today I remember those who live permanently on the margins, stigmatised by the effects of HIV/AIDS, leprosy, accident or injury.

I cannot enter their worlds or feel their pain, and I am blessed that my trip closer to the margins is temporary, but the glimpse I am granted, may it it change me for the good.