CO-CREATING WITH THE UNIVERSE - ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, including during A HAIRCUT
#rebirthleaders #jencoaching #534amrebirth
Yesterday, after a month of postponing, I finally went to cut my hair.
For many years, I’ve had a simple habit:
when I live somewhere long enough, I find one salon that feels right—and I stay with it.
It keeps life simple. It saves energy.
My hair is thick and strong; if the stylist isn’t refined enough, it becomes messy within days.
I carry a quiet belief:
wherever I go, I will meet the right person who understands my hair.
In the city I’ve lived in these past few years, I’ve continued traveling quite far to return to my old salon—the familiar one from where I used to live.
Once, I tried a new place near home and it didn’t suit me.
But deeper than that, there was another layer:
returning to the old place meant revisiting a neighborhood I once belonged to, greeting familiar faces, touching memory.
Last month, I didn’t go.
Logic said it was too far, too inconvenient.
But intuition whispered—something inside wasn’t ready.
Yesterday, I decided:
just walk into a nearby salon.
If it isn’t perfect, I can adjust next time.
My hair had grown too long, covering my eyes, brushing my neck.
And I remembered my belief: wherever I go, I will meet the right hands.
I searched online—most nearby salons were closed in the evening.
But on my way home, one was still lit.
As I passed the entrance, I noticed a father and son sitting outside, drinking tea.
A quiet feeling arose:
perhaps he is the owner.
Inside, one stylist was cutting hair,
a woman was washing another client’s hair.
I asked if the owner could cut mine.
She smiled: “He just stepped outside. I’ll call him in for you.”
It was the man I had just walked past.
I sat down.
Looked around.
Certificates on the wall.
Letters of appreciation.
He is a craftsman officially recognized by the State.
Twenty-five years in the profession.
Once selected to be trained to help develop Vietnam’s hair industry.
As he began cutting, I could feel the years in every movement.
No rush. No performance.
Just the steadiness of someone who has practiced one craft long enough for it to become character.
I recognized something familiar:
the journey of mastery.
Discipline behind what appears simple.
Invisible years held inside visible gestures.
I felt grateful.
We do not always return to old places simply because they are familiar.
Sometimes we step into a new place to meet a more mature version of ourselves—
even if, at the moment of deciding, we feel unready or imperfect.
Co-creating with the Universe does not have to look mystical.
Sometimes it is simply keeping your word to yourself: “It’s time.”
Sometimes it is choosing a new option instead of waiting for perfect conditions.
Sometimes it is trusting the devotion of someone who has quietly practiced for decades.
When I stepped out,
my hair felt lighter.
My spirit felt lighter.
Not only because it was freshly cut,
but because an old pattern had softened—
the belief that “only the familiar is safe.”
A haircut
can become a meeting point
between timing,
craftsmanship,
and becoming.
The Universe does not rush.
It aligns.
And when we choose to move, to show up, to be present—
with clarity and trust within—
things begin to coordinate
naturally,
deeply,
beautifully.
