The Thinning Crown, a Medal of the Years
One by one, strands of gray hair began to appear,
until before I knew it, my hair had turned white.
To better connect with younger colleagues, I started coloring my hair.
Then, one day, it began to fall out.
Since childhood, I had always had a broad forehead.
Even when my hairline started to thin, I comforted myself with familiar sayings:
“A man should have a prominent forehead.”
“It’s only natural as you grow older.”
And so I carried on.
Then one day, I stepped into an elevator lined with mirrors on every side.
In that moment, I noticed something I had never truly seen before.
The thinning crown of my head.
I had assumed that even if the hair in front receded, the back would remain untouched.
That illusion vanished in an instant.
A strange feeling, unlike any I had known before, swept over me.
“Should I wear a wig?”
“Should I get a hair transplant?”
Just then, I seemed to hear someone say:
“Gray hair and thinning patches are medals earned through the years.
Why should one feel compelled to hide such honors?”
The moment those words reached my heart, an unexpected peace settled over me.
We spend so much of our lives trying to look younger.
Youth has its beauty, of course.
But what truly matters is not how young we appear,
but how we have lived the years we have been given.
True dignity begins with the grace to accept things as they are.
— From Dawn Light Notes by Ki Jun Kwon
Today's Reflection
★ A life lived according to standards of appearance rather than substance is an exhausting one. Today, I choose to receive with gratitude the traces of time that have come to rest upon my head. ★
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