Some of you may realize (or remember) that I'm a contemplative man by nature. My shaves are a great time for me to just stop, relax, and think about my place in the whole grand scheme of things. This morning was a very good time for me to do just that.
I especially like thinking about each and every person in the whole "chain" of things that leads up to whatever I'm doing. I often find myself thinking of the farmers when I'm eating dinner, for example.
This morning I got out of the shower and grabbed my moss scuttle. I thought of Sara, the potter who made it. An image of her hands (from a pic on a postcard or her website I'm sure) flashed through my head and I saw her in my mind's eye, shaping the clay on her wheel. I thought about her delight when I sent her a thank you email and I hoped I brought a smile to her face that day.
I looked wistfully over at my (empty) sample baggies of shaving cream from Colleen and wondered how her mad scientist basement looks and if her labels are up to her standards yet. I pulled out the trumpers lime instead and began to work the lather, letting the smell of limes wash over me as I thought about the workers in the English factories and wondered a little about their lives, their families, their stories.
Reaching for one of Vlad's razor boxes, I had to stop and admire the handwork one more time. As I traced the grain on the wood I thought about Vlad and his new job, hoping things are going well for him and imagining the relief he feels working again. Opening the box, the first razor my fingers dropped onto was the kronpunkt I got from Gary, which of course made me think about him and imagining how he must have felt being told he had 2 months to find work elsewhere. I stopped for a minute to let myself worry just a tiny bit, and then decided that he'd be fine and that everything will work out for the best there. I then had a rather humorous brief image of a man with a maniacal gleam in his eye, huffing and puffing and dripping with moss and water and sweat dragging huge logs of kauri out of the swamp and trundling them off to be turned into razor scales and boxes.
I picked up the Tuckmar frameback that I just got from Joe and thought about him down in Louisiana, sipping one of my beers in the evening time as the hot muggy summer starts up. I imagined his look of concentration as he honed this particular razor I held in my hands and I took a moment to hold it up and ponder it, letting the light play across it before I took it to Tony's strop.
Stropping, of course, brought up thoughts of Tony. I could hear his cheerful voice from when I spoke with him on the phone, giving me advice and tips on using his strops. I could imagine that I heard the well-earned pride in his voice as he talked about his wares.
Taking the razor to my face I thought about all the people who touch my life every day in small ways and large. I thought about Mama bear and her kind words and offers and how we'll soon be sipping each other's beer, Colleen and her mad soaping experiments, FUD and his valiant efforts to pursue quality soap for the common man, all the people here who've spent their own valuable time sharing tips and insights with us newbies.
After the shave, as I picked up my arizona goat milk aftershave I of course thought about the conversations I've had with her about her products and how much I enjoy her stuff. I thought about how my fiancee loves her goats milk bath soap, which then made me think of Colleen again and her lotion experiments on behalf of my fiancee.
I thought of each and every one of you guys at some point, for some brief instant today. I thank all of you for the small touches and imprints on my life and I'm grateful that I can take a moment or two out of my day to acknowledge my place in the whole grand scheme of things.
-- Gary F.
