I cut my beard.
Aside from the terror of losing my most prized possession, I feel I have failed the men of our squad and my commitment to keep it.
Yeah, we Expedition men made declarations of keeping our beards from training camp until the end of the Race. Some took this a little more seriously than others.
I took it very seriously.
Each time another man fell along the way, we grieved the loss, teased them pretty heavily, then moved forward in smaller company, but greater conviction.
These beards are here to stay. We joke and play and tease about it, but it’s been a fun healthy competition of keeping our epicly bearded faces.
Then we received and email basically saying that it’s worth considering that a few men have recently had troubles crossing a border into one of our countries due to beards (especially ones that looked like mine on men that looked like me); and we might be wise to cut them in order to avoid being held at the border for hours and paying to get out of there.
This is real life in the world we live in.
Long story short: I was the only man of our dwindled fellowship to choose to follow this advice, mostly due to the fact that I didn’t want to spend extra $$, get separated from the crew, and because a few locals advised that I specifically would be wise to take the advice and shave.
It’s goofy and sounds ridiculous, I know. But this was a difficult decision for me. I like my beard and I take my commitments seriously, no matter how trivial.
So, the time to shave finally comes. I receive a pair of trimmers from a squadmate’s room and do my best Sad Tobias walk down the hallway in shame.
Alex, of course, is the one who decides to find proper theme music: “Buzzcut Season” by Lorde was just too perfect of a title.
I give it a listen and get a very interesting interpretation of the lyrics (not the actual meaning obviously)
“I remember when your head caught flame…
Well, you laughed ‘baby, it’s okay, it’s buzzcut season anyway’”
“Explosions on TV…
So now we live beside the pool, where everything is good”
The fact of the time we live in right now is: There are real, serious and fatal occurrences happening throughout the world, and there is a stereotyped kind of person committing these actions. It just hit me. I am living in and traveling through a real world where it’s not even just a culturally appropriate matter to shave your beard.
It’s a matter of fear.
There are countries living in so much fear that they will hold people and double/triple check them because of a beard, and I’m legitimately upset about it because I like having a beard and the way it looks.
This is a serious matter we are dealing with. Fear is trying to take hold in our world people.
“For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”
– 2 Timothy 1:7
There is no lesson I want to convey here, just an experience.
Update 3 days after initially writing this:
– There were no issues with beards whatsoever at the border.
– Everyone and their flipping circus bearded lady mother has a beard in this country and I need to vent lol
– I’m good now.
In Christ,
JCRB
