I have never been a facial hair guy. This may be due to the fact that my dad never was and suggested that guys with beards have something to hide. I never knew if he was joking about this, but, like many offhand comments, it tended to stay with me.
The first time I grew what I call a “circle beard,” which forms a circle around the mouth, I think I was on vacation and wanted to try something new. Joan thought it was great, and so after over thirty years, I found something I could easily do that my wife liked; I did it. When my dad first saw me upon our return from vacation, he told me that I looked like the devil. What’s that saying about if you don’t have anything nice to say…?
My father’s comments aside, I grew the circle beard in the summer for my wife. Each summer, I noticed a little more salt than pepper. If she noticed, she kept it to herself.
Fast forward to a few months ago, when I was creating my packing list for the Camino. I decided that a razor and shaving cream would take up too much space, and liberated by the notion of one less thing to do each morning, I decided not to shave while I was on my pilgrimage.
I enjoyed the extra time and ease of getting ready in the morning, and like most people walking across Spain, I didn’t really pay any attention to my appearance. This, too, was freeing. I would wash and wear the same several shirts every day, the same pants or shorts, and never once was concerned by my look, such as it was.
Slowly, the stubble turned into longer hairs which started to resemble something like a beard. I have never before seen myself with a beard, so this became somewhat of a curiosity to me at first. Catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror upon passing, I did a double take because I didn’t recognize the image looking back at me. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t my father, it wasn’t my grandfather. It was some new person whom I had never seen before.
Slowly, I became familiar with this new person, and I have to tell you, I quite liked him. He was kind, he was unhurried, he seemed at peace with himself and the world around him, and when he smiled, you could see his eyes squint with brightness.
As the changes I mentioned in Unpacking the Lessons Learned on the Camino, started to occur, I identified those changes with the new person I saw in the mirror. I know this may sound a bit mental, but I can assure you that I currently have all of my mental faculties. At least, all that I have ever had.
My return to my home and the “real world” was more than just a splash of cold water in my face; it was a full-blown cold plunge. I came home in a blissful state ready to bask in the glow of my experience and slowly come back to reality over the next few days or weeks. The reality was quite different from my expectations. I had to wake up out of my blissful state and immediately step into action in several very demanding situations that needed attention. The details of these are more personal in nature but understand there was no time for bliss any longer.
The beard was the last semblance of the changes that occurred for me, and call it resistance, call it nostalgia, or call it grasping at straws, I made the conscious decision that for now, the beard stays. As I desperately cling to the experience of my pilgrimage, this beard has become a visual cue for me, a reminder of what happened to me.
The other visual cue is the simple leather bracelet I wear on my left wrist, where my Garmin device resided for the past six years. The tan line is so faint by now that I don’t have any reminder of that period of my life when, literally, my every breath and every heartbeat was tracked.
All of this is fine, and I am learning about beard care and maintenance. I naively thought all it meant was that you don’t shave. If only. There is beard oil, whisker trimmers, and a trimming protocol, so that I don’t look like Grizzly Adams.
This brings up another development in my new look. Since others are also seeing me for the first time with a beard, there has been no shortage of comments, both positive and negative, including the aforementioned Grizzly Adams. My son called it the all salt no pepper beard. Others have been less kind and more direct: “It makes you look older.” Or the kinder version, “You look more mature.”
Some people have said, “It suits you.” I don’t really know what that means, but I take it to be a compliment. My favorite so far is the similarity with the world’s most interesting man, from the Dos Equis ads. To which I reply, “I don’t usually have a beard, but when I do, I make sure it’s white.”
I have thick skin, so I am not easily offended by comments, and less so since I have a reason for this new look. I could care less what anyone else thinks or says, because I still remember fondly my Camino and the person I became along the way. I imagine at some point the lessons will become hard wired into my being and I won’t need the visual cue any longer, but for now, the beard stays.