Josh Misner is taking a step back for every two steps technology leaps ahead.
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For Christmas this year, I asked my wife to get me a straight razor. Why on Earth, you might ask, would any sane, modern male ask for such a medieval implement of torture for the one holiday a year where you are allowed to make inane requests for the most trivial items? The answer to that question is surprisingly simple and not nearly as profound as what I got out of the 90 minutes I just spent with this instrument pressed to the flesh of my head.
Many years ago, a decade to be exact, I was without a car and living in a college town. This particular town of Pullman, Washington, is nicknamed by some as “Little San Francisco,” aptly named due to its hilly topography. I worked for Washington State University at the time, and being without a car meant that I had to walk to and from campus. Unfortunately, the trek was a two-mile gauntlet of going down one set of hills, only to have to climb yet another, and those hills were steep; so steep, they built stairs into the sidewalk. I jokingly tell my children that their father really did have to walk two miles to work in the snow, going uphill both ways.
Anyway, during the winter, it was bitter cold, and I wanted my body’s liquid components to remain liquid, so I bundled up. To facilitate this, I started cutting my hair with a cheap hair trimmer on one of the shortest guard settings. That is, until my wife said, “Oops!”
“Oops?!?” I barked back, “What does ‘oops’ mean?”
“Uh, the little guard thingy fell off,” she responded. Rather than sport a bald spot, she finished my whole head without the guard, and from that day forward, I started shaving my head without it. Several years later, I took it a step further during the hot summer months and started to “Bic” it, but mostly just because I love the feeling of a smooth scalp.
♦◊♦
One of the inherent issues with doing a clean shave is that stubble has a tendency to clog up your typical store-bought disposable razors. I’ve tried many types over the years, but all with the same problem. This year, I decided to attempt a straight-shave. I figured that, with just one blade, there’s less chance of the clogging issue, and maybe even a more comfortable shave.
Oh, who am I kidding? My reasoning suggested that it would be cool as hell to go old school, because let’s face it, nothing seems more hardcore than being able to claim that I shave with a surgical instrument, and hardcore is cool.
Despite thinking I am even more nuts than her existing perception of me, my wife followed through and granted my Christmas wish, planting a shiny, new straight razor in my stocking.
I’ll admit, the first time trying it was tough. I had to figure out the soap-and-brush technique for the best lather, and the learning curve for getting the angle of the blade just right produced a trickling of blood tributaries flowing down my face. However, I’d read that straight shaving is a technique not easily learned on the first try, so I expected it and persisted in my efforts.
Ironically, considering my desire to back off from technological advances, I consulted YouTube for a shaving lesson, and within ten minutes, I was ready to try again.
♦◊♦
When the time came for my next shave, I noticed something different. Unlike shaving with a mass-produced disposable razor that was made in China by machines, the time and concentration required by my new handmade implement forced me to be pickier about the time slot I set aside for the task, so I waited until my kids were in bed and the house was quiet. In addition to breaking my normal “routine” of shaving in the morning, I also noticed that my “shave time” was starting to become a ritual.
This new ritual had me breathing differently.
I noticed that I was concentrating more and controlling my movements with ever-increasing intention. To avoid the gnarly gashes I left the first time due to my careless haste, I took long, slow breaths, relaxed my shoulders, and calmed my nerves. Shaving had become my meditation. I started to see what my forefathers saw in the male shaving rite of passage, something I never experienced.
Imbued with a new found confidence, I decided that the next time I performed my ritual, I was going to shave not only my face, but also my head. After all, that was the primary reason I was taking this technological step backward in time, so it’s now or never.
♦◊♦
Once again, I set a date and a time of day to perform the ritual. Once again, I waited until the house was quiet and the children were in bed. I took apart the blade housing and cleaned it carefully before replacing the blade with a new one. During each and every moment of my prep work, I slowed my breathing and felt my tensions lifting. For the first 15 minutes, I warmed up with a face shave, pulling off a flawless, zero-cut performance.
Then, it was time for my head.
Cautiously, I started with the sides, since they are the flattest part of my skull. They went surprisingly smooth (pun very much intended), so I moved on to the top of my head, which was certainly more challenging, seeing as how it is the most round of any portion of my head. However, with short, deliberate strokes, I removed the follicle sprouts one square centimeter at a time — with no blood to show for my efforts.
Sides, check. Top, check.
The part I dreaded most was up next.
I felt my heart speed up, and I noticed a slight twitch to my razor hand.
There is no easy way to approach shaving the back of one’s own head. It’s a paradox, in that, if you use a mirror, you are bound to cut yourself, as it is incredibly difficult to control your movements while looking at a mirror image, but then again, if you do it blind, you run the risk of slicing yourself open.
I threw caution to the wind and channeled my inner Luke Skywalker as he sped toward the Death Star’s exhaust port without instruments to guide him. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and put the blade to my flesh.
The crazy thing is, it felt wonderful.
I could feel the product of my muscles’ coordinated efforts.
When I moved, I felt the blade against my skin, gently shearing off the hair as it glided through the lather.
I felt an almost instinctive half-smile wash over my expression as the task went on, and occasionally, I checked the mirror to see how bad the damage was, but each time I peeked, I saw no injury.
♦◊♦
90 minutes later, I was done with perhaps the most comfortable head shave of the last decade, but more importantly, I learned several lessons …
- Sometimes, technology disconnects us from ourselves. Sure, using a standard Bic would have been faster, easier, and lord knows, less painful to learn to use, but doing it this way gave me the opportunity to savor the quietness of the moment.
- There is no room for mind-wandering in a straight shave of one’s head. The instant the mind takes a walk, the razor inevitably digs in to the flesh, sometimes leaving a pretty rough gash. Taking this step backward in technology afforded me 90 minutes of pure focus and concentration on a seemingly menial task, clearing my head of all other thoughts, frustrations, and worries. I like to think of this as a “soft reset” for my thought processes.
- Even the most menial tasks can be approached mindfully. Quality takes time, attention, and even more importantly, the right intentions. Sure, there are “better” things I could have spent 90 minutes doing, but once it was all said and done, I feel considerably more accomplished having learned this skill, and I look forward to the day I can pass this on to my own sons as well.
- In the event of an apocalypse — whether nuclear, economy-based, or zombie — I won’t be reduced to a Duck Dynasty beard because all the Bic razors have been looted already. All I need is a blade and a whetstone, and I’m set.
Those lessons stated, I think that, in the coming year, I’m going to make a more concerted effort to reconnect where technology has previously created a chasm of disconnect.
I’m going to hand write more notes and letters to loved ones and write fewer emails.
I’m going to make more coffee dates with friends and loved ones and spend less time perusing their Facebook walls for updates.
I’m going to take more walks and less unnecessary drives.
I’m going to pick up more books and thumb through their pages and click fewer links to scroll through their pages.
I’m going to play more board games and fewer video games.
I’m going to make more phone calls just to check in and write fewer text messages.
I’m going to make a more solid commitment to at least one technology-free day each week, and spend less time looking for an excuse to check my phone for notifications.
I’m going to contemplate more and worry less.
I’m going to let go.
I’m going to savor.
This post originally appeared at Mindful Dad
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Photo: .lerri/Flickr
I like that this has become your ritual and I like where you took it at the end. I’ve been using a double edged safety razor for a year now, and with a decent blade the quality of the shave is miles better. Have yet to take the plunge and get a cutthroat though! Sadly he’s retired now, but there was an old gent running a barber’s by himself down the road from me. He’d use a cutthroat to remove the stubble from the finer hair on my sideburns and the back of my head. Weirdly, I found it ticklish,… Read more »
I use a double edged razor to shave my face for much the same reason. I get a better shave, I pay $15 for 100 blades from westcoast shaving and in the event of an appocalypse I have 2 years worth of blades. Come to think of it shaving with a DE Razor takes less time as well.