I was streaming home from my hair appointment, feeling several pounds lighter in the head.  As Southwestern Ontario moseyed by, I was remembering CBC Radio after having no radio in my life for six weeks.  This morning I was enjoying two hosts: Matt Galloway on The Current and Tom Power on Q.  Leading into a commercial break, one of the guys said “I’m going to play a song by Ry Cooder.  I’m not really sure why he wrote it.”

My new-to-me red car Ruby and I were getting reacquainted, and it took me a few seconds to grasp the lyrics.  When I did, they seeped inside easily.  The reference to “Christians” didn’t really hit home but the rest sure did:

Now you fashion-loving Christians sure give me the blues
You must unload, you must unload
You’ll never get to heaven in your jewel-encrusted high-heel shoes
You must, you must unload

And you power-loving Christians in your fancy dining cars
You must unload, you must unload
We see you drinking whiskey and smoking big cigars
You must, you must unload

For the way is straight and narrow and few are on the road
Brothers and sisters, there is no other hope
If you’d like to get to heaven and watch eternity unfold
You must, you must unload

Woh.  It’s not just hair that needs to be shorn once in awhile.  There is tightness in holding on to the image I’ve created for myself.  Bruce is this.  Bruce is not that.  There are “have tos” to the left and right, urging me down paths that are untrue to my essence.  There is owning this, learning that and including only certain other things.  There are cherished opinions, righteous indignation, and a Bruce-central approach to living.

Oh … there is much to unload so that I may watch eternity unfold.  And not only watch, but to fully participate in the revealing.