Gratitude in the Chair

This article isn’t about rewiring your mindset or sprinting toward goals. It’s about something quieter — stepping away from your usual pace, your familiar surroundings, and letting life remind you that gratitude often hides in the simplest moments.

Brian inspired me to get a haircut in Aruba.

He said, “There’s nothing like learning the local culture — start with the people.”

So today, I did something small but uncomfortable: I got a haircut.

Not just any haircut — one that meant letting go.

My daughter is a full-time cosmetologist, a true artist with hair. And yes, I’m guilty of being the “dad who autocorrects” when she does mine. It has to be done my way. But today, in a little barbershop far from home, I smiled and said — in my best Spanish accent — “Córtame el pelo.” Cut my hair.

And in that moment, I let go.

What I didn’t expect was how much I’d learn — not about hair, but about people, rhythm, and gratitude.

The barbershop is its own kind of classroom. Laughter, stories, music, and conversation flow effortlessly. There’s an art in the way people connect there — no rush, no agenda, just presence.

Brian was right: if you want to know the culture, spend time at the barbershop.

It reminded me of my childhood — Saturday mornings at Mr. Cliff’s downtown. My father would take my brother and me for haircuts. Mr. Cliff had cut my dad’s hair, and before that, my grandfather’s—three generations in that chair. Between snips of the scissors and the hum of clippers, I learned about my family — stories of who they were long before I came along.

Mr. Cliff would talk about my dad at my age, or my grandfather, and his old neighborhood friends.

Those conversations stitched together generations — the kind of connection we often forget to slow down for today.

The world moves fast.

Technology hums, calendars fill, and even our gratitude gets scheduled between meetings.

But sometimes, the most meaningful gratitude shows up when you stop chasing it — when you sit still, let someone else take the lead, and listen.

It may have just been a haircut, but it felt like something more.

It was a moment of letting go. Of remembering where I came from. Of honoring the small rituals that make us human.

Today, I’m grateful for that — for the lesson, the memory, and the reminder that connection begins when we slow down long enough to see it.