Summit Wellness: Gratitude - "A Close Shave"

By Matt Anthony - Summit FM Digital Media Specialist

Don’t cut yourself. Don’t cut yourself. Don’t cut yourself.

I found myself mumbling this mantra with more repetition than The Beatles at the end of “Hey Jude.” I tried to recall everything I had watched on YouTube earlier during my morning stationary bike ride. But I was freaking myself out, and the dichotomy of trying to ‘be good to myself’ while risking a trip to the ER was perhaps more than I could handle that early in the day. Even Animals by Pink Floyd wasn’t helping.

Shaving with cartridge razors was hurting my wallet. And from what I’d been reading, those expensive little plastic thingies were also bad for landfills. So, after perusing one of the many articles urging you to rethink what you do and how you do it, I became intrigued by the suggestion of ‘stepping back in time and shaving like your grandfather used to,’ all in the spirit of helping the planet.

I admit that shaving with a safety razor, or ‘wet shaving,’ has become somewhat of an obsession lately. Razors are like tattoos: once you get one, you want another. Six months ago, I knew nothing about these instruments except that they looked like something you’d find at either The Bomb Shelter or a barbershop museum. I have a vague memory of my father shaving in the bathroom with a ‘butterfly razor,’ a one-piece unit that, when twisted at the handle, would split the top of the razor apart, revealing the location where the blade would reside. Single, individual blades always sort of frightened me anyway.

But I was doing it! And I didn’t perish! Somehow, during that maiden voyage into wet shaving, I managed to avoid a bloody catastrophe. I stared at myself in the mirror, moving slowly and methodically as #geofatboy had instructed me on YouTube, carefully gliding my first two-piece closed-comb beauty, a gorgeous rose-gold German-made Muhle R89, across my virgin whiskers.

What, in the name of Gillette, can we possibly learn about ‘gratitude’ by scraping a single Feather blade across our cheeks and neckline? (Or our legs and underarms?) Yes, I certainly wanted to play my part in not dumping pricey, disposable plastic waste into the garbage universe. But what I have discovered in the past six months is that this every-other-day necessity, an act that many of us do robotically and without much thought, can be a lesson in ‘intentional gratitude.’

“It’s an instrument that can be used every day for us to stay present,” says Anita Avedian of Brainz magazine and a licensed family therapist.

Of course, those who practice Zen are already tasked with the challenge of trying to live and practice in the present moment. But as I pedaled away in the basement, trying to acquaint myself with terms like ‘going against the grain,’ ‘BBS’ (‘baby-bottom-smooth!’), and ‘staying at a 30% angle,’ I began to view this sometimes-daily act of ritual boredom as a way to be intentionally good…to myself! And, in the spirit of Zen, if I’m good to myself, perhaps that intentional act could be projected onto others.

Does gratitude fall into categories like ‘active’ and ‘passive’? I had been driving around the week before, with Living Colour’s Time’s Up blasting from the tinny speakers in our 2012 vehicle, running that question through my mind. I knew that I had been lackadaisical regarding a more active strategy for demonstrating gratitude for what others had done for me.

But a few people close to me often pose the question, “What are you doing for you?” So, in the spirit of discovery, was I being intentional enough…with myself?

At times, after sitting meditation, I’ll think about my intent for the day. Can I please try not to be in a bad mood? Will I gratefully show something to someone else, something I may be familiar with, in a teaching moment? More importantly, will I intentionally try to do good for another without regard for reciprocation?

But later in the morning, it hit me. While preparing my coffee, I suddenly realized why I enjoy making it so much and why I want to derive enjoyment from its taste: because I try to prepare it with intent. Learning how to roast the beans with greater skill, being fixated on arriving at the optimal grind, and, probably most importantly, allowing the time each morning to carefully dribble the correct amount of water onto the beans during the pour-over—thereby doing justice to the person or family who cultivated it, as well as the person who packaged it and shipped it—so that I could benefit from it.

It's the same with shaving, I think. Rather than haphazardly sliding a mass-produced, five-bladed, budget-busting, uninteresting piece of plastic around my face while thinking of 17 other things at the same time, I set aside 15-20 minutes every other day—with intent—to give something to myself. And this art form, in a sense, can both pamper my sometimes-frazzled psychological and spiritual nerves and, at the same time, honor those who came before me.

More importantly, I believe that giving thoughtful, intentional gratitude for this new interest (okay, ‘obsession,’ I admit it) can teach me about doing other things with ‘intent.’ The right amount of pre-shave lotion, adding the correct amount of Proraso with an eyedropper of 7 ml of water, and then carefully working the brush inside the bowl so that it actually starts to resemble ‘shaving cream.’ Allowing that cream to sit and work its magic with patience before loading up the razor.

Oh, and these razors! The classic Merkur 37-C has been made in Germany for decades, and its feel and balance in the hand are perfection! The longer handle helps newbies like me maintain the proper angle. The sleek Henson AL-13, a lighter, aerodynamic looker from our Canadian friends north of the border, will silently and crisply take care of a three-day growth with laser efficiency. And, last night, with The Stones’ Voodoo Lounge cascading through the house, I used my Edwin Jagger DE89, a precision-weighted, handcrafted work of art from Sheffield in the United Kingdom. My current budget won’t allow for an American-made Rex Ambassador, so for the time being, I believe this finely honed specimen from the north of England may, in fact, be my favorite so far.

Yes, ‘works of art’ can cost a few coins, and there is definitely a small investment upfront. But these razors are meant to last! Some older gents pass them on to family members as heirlooms. (Did I mention that you can get a 50-pack of Feather blades from Japan for 15 bucks?)

And the crème de la crème? Treating one’s face to a soothing aftershave balm as well as an aftershave lotion. In the case of the latter, from an Italian company that has been around since 1948. When I emerge from the bathroom after shaving, Donna will sometimes say, “Wow, you smell like a man!”

Fifteen minutes of grateful intent combined with appropriate tune-age. Sounds like a pretty decent way to help save the planet. Or, as #geofatboy would say on YouTube, “Have a great shave, have a great day!”