Meditative

Giving the bottle a good shake, I pour some oil into the palm of my hand.  The oil is warm and the sensation of slowly moving it over my hands begins to calm me.  I massage my face, swirling my fingertips over my cheeks, before slowly, rubbing along my jawline and down my neck.  I rinse my hands under hot water before returning the cap to the bottle and placing it back, in the cupboard.

I fill the bowl with hot water, carefully placing the brush in it, giving the brush a short anticlockwise spin.  I turn my attention to music.  Switching on the speaker and selecting the album I want.  I’m in a classical mood today, navigating to one of my favorite mixes, I take a relaxing deep breath as the first notes of Una Mattina resonate throughout the room.

Taking the soap dish, I begin to vigorously froth the top of the soap.  Spinning the brush in a clockwise direction, holding the bristles together, so the knot doesn’t spread too much.  As foam builds up on the brush, I pour the water out of the bowl and scrape the brush against the side.  I watch as the foam slides down the inside of the bowl, as it hits the dregs of the water, it quickly capillaries around and spreads over the bottom.  I return the brush to the soap dish, lathering up more foam, adding it to the bowl, every time the brush becomes loaded.  

Once enough foam is in the bowl, I do a final sweep of the soap to pull up all the remaining foam.  Placing the soap dish on the corner of the sink, I rapidly spin the brush in the bowl to produce more lather.  With the brush fully loaded, I begin to apply and spread it over my face.  The smoothness of the foam contrasts against the gentle prickles of the brush.  I feel the warmth of the lather as I continue to spread it over my cheeks.   

As I pass the brush across my face the sweet sting of tobacco fragrance fills my nose.  I feel the lather cooling against my skin, but I know the oil is working its magic.  I push the brush firmly into my other cheek, as I swirl the foam across my face.  I make sweeping passes along my jawline and firmly paint lather down my neck.  Satisfied that I have a good layer applied, I move onto the next step.  Setting up all the necessary items in a mise en place, results in not even having to look, as I reach for the razor.  

I pass the blade under hot water, heating the single slither of treated carbon steel.  I slowly make the first stroke, hearing, but not feeling, the bristles being cut.  Rotating the razor, I make a pass on the other side of my face.  As I rinse the blade, I watch the speckled foam flow down the plug hole.  Knowing the secret to the smoothest of close shaves, is to take it slow, allow the blade to do the work and not rush, I relax.  Enjoying the slow, even sensation of the blade passing over my skin, the smell of the lather, the smooth walnut handle of the razor, and the soothing sounds of Divenire taking me to a different place. 

There is always an element of danger; trying to rush, not paying attention, or a misjudged movement, will result in a nick.  The blade is surgically sharp, if one was so inclined one could easily self-administer a Glasgow smile.  I never rush, I allow time to pass me by and focus on the movement of the blade, the crisp sound of the edge as it slices through the bristles, the enveloping warmth of the room, and the relaxing feeling of the lather encasing my face.  Every movement is considered, every thought purposeful, deliberate, and all consumed.  It feels like I’m on top of a large munro, with a Sirocco sinewing through the peaks, whilst the whole world fades away into misty valleys.   

After completing each application of lather, I methodically reapply and change the direction of passes.  Slowly ensuring to align with the grain of each hair.  As I splash hot water on my face before the final application, I check any missed areas, paying attention to the underside of my jawline and chin.  The final application is like the end of a vacation: I know my temporary diversion and escape is coming to an end, with an impending return to reality.  

As I complete my last pass, I slowly fill my hands with hot water dipping my face into the convecting heat.  I allow the water to rinse off any remaining lather, gently rubbing any areas that have dried.  As I remove the last of the lather, I take the opportunity to check the closeness of my efforts.  Satisfied that I have achieved a smooth, clean result, I splash cold water across my face.  Cupping a hand, I slowly wipe under my face, down my neck.  The cold sting of the water is a refreshing jolt after the warm velvet of the lather.  As Nuvole Bianche begins, I gently pad my now cold face dry, with a cotton cloth.  

I reach for the cream, taking my time to prolong the last of my moments, before I must leave my latibule.  Rubbing my hands together, I feel the cream begin to soak into my skin.  I slowly swirl both hands across my face, using the slickness of the cream to enable my fingers to glide over my smooth skin.  I always pay attention to both my neck and forehead, and apply the last of the cream to these areas.  I rinse my hands under hot water, enjoying the feeling of the water effortlessly passing through my fingers, with an invisible embrace.  

Now I move onto my clean up routine.  As I do when I cook, I ensure I do a thorough clean up leaving the area as I found it.  I gently, but firmly, push the remaining foam from the brush.  Squeezing along the knot as water passes through the bristles.  Giving it a final squeeze to get it as dry as possible, I hang it back in the holder, before gently placing it back in the cupboard.  I rinse the bowl, watching the final remnants of the sweet smelling lather flow down the sink.  Drying it, I place it on top of the tub of TOBS soap, and close the cupboard door.  I ensure all residue of lather and stubble is rinsed from the sink before giving the whole area a wipe down to dry.  

Allowing the last notes of the relaxing music to finish before turning off the speaker, I give a silent thanks to the composer who has allowed me into a temporary reverie; some cloistered time away from reality.  I take one final deep breath before leaving the room.  Another successful shave is complete.