The simple satisfaction of growing a beard
i'm on a journey
The week before Thanksgiving might be my favorite week of the year.
It is truly a liminal state.
We have entered the in-between.
Time grinds to a halt. Home sweet home feels like the only place on earth. Life won’t resume its normal pace until January 2nd.
Collectively, we are on the same page: Cozy season has begun. Let us indulge in the splendors of life. Let us rest.
On November 25th, a few days before Thanksgiving, I decided to grow a beard.
I haven’t had a beard in a long time. I had a mustache about three years ago but decided to keep a permanent 5 o’clock shadow when I felt I needed to look younger. A mustache ages me by about five years; a beard, maybe ten.
Growing a beard is a meditative journey. It forces you to slow down, to contemplate life.
Time moves even more slowly when you’re growing a beard. It’s a work-in-progress on your face—a daily reminder that you are aging, every day.
Since starting my beard, I’ve spent a lot more time looking at my face. Generally speaking, this is not something I do. My morning routine is as simple as my nightly routine, and it’s designed to take about three and a half minutes in the bathroom. I brush my teeth (three minutes), then wet my face with water and slap on some moisturizer. In the evening, I put in my retainer. In the morning, I take it out.
Since growing my beard, I look at my beard. I look at my face. I see the greys growing where they shouldn’t (on my face, on my head). I inspect my widow’s peak. I take measure of my nose—it’s getting bigger. So are my ears.
Growing a beard forces you to slow down, to measure the daily progress, to think about the future. What will I look like in a week? A month? Three months? I am looking forward to watching my transformation, to witnessing the progression of time, however slowly it may move.
One day, I’ll wake up and decide to look like myself again.
That’s when I’ll shave it off.
What’s truly trippy is having a beard for years, many years, and then shaving it. It’s weird to forget what your own face looks like and then see it again for the first time in a decade, and immediately and regretfully remember why you grew a beard in the first place.
Truth! I struggled to grow a beard for a few years in my 20s, but now I think it was just impatience. I didn't know how I needed to slow down. But now I can't imagine not having it. I think about how it looks, and my face with it, and I'm proud of it. It's also where 90% of my greys are though. Ha!