Vintage Shaver
Seattle, WA
(This post was last modified: 11-11-2017, 09:16 PM by churchilllafemme.)
During the course of my life, the act of shaving has been various experiences, often representing the general qualities of my life at the time. My earliest memories related to this are of sitting on the clothes hamper in my family's main floor bathroom and watching my dad shave with his Gillette Fat Boy, a time for us to talk casually about our day's activities, a very comfortable time for me.
Then, when I was old enough to shave, the bathroom became a place to look in the mirror and worry about my hair and skin and what I looked like and how attractive to girls I was (or wasn't). It was a time for beginning to know who I was, what was important to me, and what I wanted.
When I went off to college, it became a time of recovering from late night studying or debauchery, and eventually it was abandoned altogether when I struggled with philosophies, politics, and causes and grew a beard to match my long hair. Somewhat later, when I went back to school to study medicine, it became a moment of quiet and stillness - but one I was too stressed and worn out to appreciate - in the midst of insanely long, high-pressure study and work hours. It was simply something I did automatically, because I was too tired to think about it.
During my medical practice years, it was just a chore, a time during which I paid little attention to what I was doing because I was focused on the upcoming day's problems and trials; and eventually it also was a time of retreat and loneliness and resentfulness in an unhappy marriage. It was a time of seeing someone in the mirror that I didn't like but couldn't escape.
More recently, with a short but much happier phase of consulting work and with the joy of sharing my days with a very loving wife, I looked more closely at what I was doing and really began to enjoy the daily ritual of shaving and the pleasures of the various pieces of hardware and software involved. And now that I am retired and sensing my mortality more, it is a treasured meditative way to start my day, seeing with my physical eyes a
face that reflects my years and miles of experience, while also looking within at who I have been and have finally become. It is now a time for remembering and smiling and regretting and forgiving, a time for peace and completion.
Then, when I was old enough to shave, the bathroom became a place to look in the mirror and worry about my hair and skin and what I looked like and how attractive to girls I was (or wasn't). It was a time for beginning to know who I was, what was important to me, and what I wanted.
When I went off to college, it became a time of recovering from late night studying or debauchery, and eventually it was abandoned altogether when I struggled with philosophies, politics, and causes and grew a beard to match my long hair. Somewhat later, when I went back to school to study medicine, it became a moment of quiet and stillness - but one I was too stressed and worn out to appreciate - in the midst of insanely long, high-pressure study and work hours. It was simply something I did automatically, because I was too tired to think about it.
During my medical practice years, it was just a chore, a time during which I paid little attention to what I was doing because I was focused on the upcoming day's problems and trials; and eventually it also was a time of retreat and loneliness and resentfulness in an unhappy marriage. It was a time of seeing someone in the mirror that I didn't like but couldn't escape.
More recently, with a short but much happier phase of consulting work and with the joy of sharing my days with a very loving wife, I looked more closely at what I was doing and really began to enjoy the daily ritual of shaving and the pleasures of the various pieces of hardware and software involved. And now that I am retired and sensing my mortality more, it is a treasured meditative way to start my day, seeing with my physical eyes a
face that reflects my years and miles of experience, while also looking within at who I have been and have finally become. It is now a time for remembering and smiling and regretting and forgiving, a time for peace and completion.
John
