You’re sitting wherever you are - holding something created by a salon [High Five Salon specifically]. You’ve flipped through pages and pages of top tier editorial work with hair, fashion, architecture and the arts. Once or twice a year we tap into our creativity and put out some cool collection of photos but let’s be honest, the moments captured by those photos you just saw are not real life. They’re distractions; good and beautiful distractions -- but distractions, nonetheless. These pieces reflect some idealistic version of reality, but real life the past year has been anything but ideal.

Real life is raw and the past year has definitely hammered in that truth.

Especially in our salon. High Five began 2020 going into our tenth year as a business and by doubling the size of our team and workplace. At the same time Australia was on fire. Remember that? Yeah... that was in 2020. [When was the last time you thought about that?] A couple months went by and High Five was entering our new home in Cincinnati’s Findlay Market - but were quickly forced to close due to Covid. [by quickly i mean 3 days… we only made it 3 days] Our excitement existed simultaneously with the confusion and fear of what was happening in our world. Think back to those first couple weeks of March...  remember what it felt like when the world was fundamentally changing every 6 hours. [Your brain hurt? Eyes crossed? Mine too…]

So we spent 8 weeks not doing hair; unable to take care of our clients and friends. Instead, we filled our time a lot like you probably did. Staying at home, meetings and happy hours on Zoom, lots of tv watching, maybe a puzzle here or there, and trying to figure out that weird coffee thing from TikTok. [Was it even that good? IDK…] Some of us started new hobbies. Some of us spent more time outdoors. But nearly all of us were holding this feeling of confusion while trying to take care of those who needed us most. Sadly, that care didn’t pan out the way some of us wanted, and it resulted in tragic loss. We lost hundreds of thousands of people who made our culture so unique. Throughout it all, we were eager to get back into our new salon home to provide some care and relief. 

Care has looked differently this past year. If you walked through High Five in 2020 you would hear laughter muffled by a mask. Eyes doing their best to prove a smile. (We all know you practiced in the mirror - don’t lie.) Our eyes did more than just smize, we also had plenty well up with tears. Our voices did more than just laugh, they also whimpered and cried. The range of our emotions were on full display this past year. Stylists would comfort clients, and vice versa. Our capacities were figuratively and literally stretched to their limits. (Six feet people! Six feet!)

Never before has there been more awareness about life’s challenges than right now. Pandemic. Protests. Death. Politics. Scandal. Parenting. WFH. Mask. No mask. Riots. Vaccine. No vaccine. On and on and on and on and on… it can feel inescapable. 

High Five and other salons have usually been a sanctuary from life’s anxieties - an opportunity for self-care where most of life’s challenges are left at the door. But something interesting happened this past year… I noticed more of that challenge creeping in. 

Now, I’ve never been one to stray from talking about challenging things. Those of you who know my family’s story know we lost our firstborn son - Arthur Cohan Hill - at just 10 weeks old. Arthur was born in March of 2019 with a long list of issues that kept the NICU staff working hard to take care of him. It’s a really weird thing to feel multiple, extreme emotions at once. For example, the joy of welcoming your first child coupled with the heavy burden of knowing his life ahead would be hugely challenging. Not everyone knows what it feels like to have a baby in the NICU but, I think we all know what it feels like to grieve, not have our expectations met, and to feel contrasting emotions at the same time. 

But the hope and anxiety of Arthur’s life was tragically cut short when he contracted an unrelated virus. Yup... A virus. So when the challenge of the COVID19 pandemic rolled around, my wife and I unfortunately felt like pros.

Distancing myself from hardship and challenge would mean distancing myself from my son’s story. Upon returning to work after his death I was shocked by the number of coworkers and clients willing to engage with us during the hardest season of our lives. To sit with us. To listen to us. To show us generosity and care. I thought the last thing anyone would want to talk about was a precious, innocent baby dying. Yet people showed up, ready to navigate that suffering. [thanks yall. Seriously. Thanks a ton.] We learned that suffering is a rare resource and it’s full of moments that will shape us forever depending on our response. [underlined in red]

A similar thing happened over this past year at High Five. I saw faces (well… partial faces covered by masks, but you get the point) bringing up the hard stuff in life. Rather than distancing ourselves from a potentially awkward moment - like disagreeing about Black Lives Matter or who the next president should be - a conversation would actually get started [a real conversation like one with patience and grace, you know those things? Aren't they nice?] . Don’t get me wrong, hard topics would definitely get brought up in years past, but these moments felt different. It felt like people were craving the opportunity to process and share. 

And here’s what I learned observing those moments: our conversations are now just as much about hard things as they are about good things. Sure, we talk about houses purchased and babies born and weddings happening but now we are talking about lives lost and political turmoil and insecure jobs just as much. Instead of accepting defeat, I see people using these moments for growth. Just like my wife and I did after losing Arthur. Now more than ever I see the people around me - family, friends, clients, neighbors, random people in line - eager to sit in the tension of suffering to bring about change. My workplace has gotten to play a remarkable role in that process for so many people and as a result it's like we’ve had our finger on the pulse of our city.

If you asked me two and a half years ago if I thought I would be more or less hopeful after my child dying, a global pandemic, economic hardship, continued injustice and killing of bipoc, dozens more of mass shootings, the list goes on… then I definitely would have answered, “I would be less hopeful.” But somehow that’s not my answer. I am somehow more hopeful. I am more hopeful because I see people around me wanting to be better. Not everything is better and nothing in life will ever be perfect. 

But what I do think we are better at now is feeling multiple, contrasting things at once - feeling that tension stretching us in opposite directions. Like feeling hope and pain. Joy and sorrow. Life and death. My family learned this from our sweet boy, Arthur. I invite you to continue navigating that tension to bring about change.