The beard grows itself. If there’s anything to take comfort in, it is that the beard grows itself. Novels need time and energy and focus and words, words, words. Blogs need much of the same thing. But the beard…ah, the only thing the beard needs me to do is keep on breathing, and some labor under the false impression that the beard will keep growing even after I’ve stopped doing that.
I consume: food and drink and air. And so the beard continues to grow. I don’t worry about whether the beard is growing when I look at the phone on my desk and see that I’ve been at work for ten hours and have no idea how soon I’ll leave. Whatever else happens, the beard is growing.
Oh, and my dad’s beard is growing, too. I got an e-mail from him last night. The photo he attached showed the progress of his own beard, shot through with silver. He shaved on the third, but hasn’t done so since. We are united in our cause, and our beards will grow.
Whatever else happens, our beards will grow.