I find myself wondering if Maslow ever grew a beard.
In 1943, noted psychologist Abraham Maslow wrote a groundbreaking paper humbly entitled A Theory of Human Motivation. (I’d link it here, but it’s not an overstatement to insinuate that the original paper could easily cure insomnia, and there are so many places online where you can review the important bits.) In this paper, Maslow explores his now infamous Hierarchy of Needs, easily graphed as a pyramid. Like so.
Essentially, Maslow postulated that a healthy human has various needs that can be arranged in a simple hierarchy, and that foundational needs must be met before a person can effectively explore items at higher levels. It’s notable, in fact, that every level of the pyramid below the top are what Maslow referred to as “deficiency needs,” indicating that meeting these needs does not in itself create a strong sense of accomplishment (arguable, obviously) but that their omission inevitably creates anxiety and distress (less arguable). Clever, right?
Over the past several years, I have noticed some unexpected trends in my life. When the Pandemic hit and many of us were forced out of the workplace, some turned isolation into opportunity: going back to school, picking up a new project or hobby, learning more about sourdough than anyone really needs to know, and so forth. I was no exception… I determined during this time that I would further my education and set out to earn a Master’s degree. That was rewarding, though by the time I was finishing up my courses I was once again struggling to balance a full-time job, school, homeschooling my youngest, and engaging with my hobbies, interests, and other business ventures.
During the Pandemic, I had time. Way too much time. And I assumed that I would parlay that into other achievements. Shadow of the Spire was published in 2018, and now six years later I still don’t have a completed draft of the sequel. I started penning songs for a new album, but lacked the momentum to get them produced. I started new podcasts and assumed I’d be crafting all sorts of cool content for my community… and I quickly started falling behind and my podcast schedule fell apart in my hands like broken pieces of pottery.
These projects and ambitions have waxed and waned over the last four years, and its easy to track that trend and put it into perspective. Because even when I have time to focus on things that presumably drive me, the energy, inspiration, and conviction just aren’t there. And that trend coincides neatly with another trackable phenomenon…
We’ve been through some difficult terrain in recent years. The Pandemic left us adrift for a while. Our savings gone, our retirement expended. Friends relying on us for any assistance we could provide. My mother passed, and we pulled up stakes a couple times trying to reorient our lives. Whenever our circumstances created undue stress on our lives – financially, socially, medically, what have you – my initiative became a casualty. It’s so clear in hindsight, but in the midst of the muck it was just impossible to see the picture very clearly. Frustration ensued.
I can see now that even partial solutions were ineffective. We could navigate a financial crisis with no realistic expectation that the same shit wasn’t just around the proverbial corner. Health issues inevitably crop up as you get older, particularly when navigating so much stress. We would make plans to orient our lives toward specific goals and repeatedly find ourselves failing at even the simplest benchmarks.
So anyway… I find it interesting that the difference between a well-groomed beard and a wild-eyed madman with a shrub on his chin is often just a couple days of not really caring very much. And as I get ready for my next job interview, the beard becomes an enormously important point of focus. I have several tools and implements at my disposal – combs, clippers, blades, salve, oil, special shampoo, et cetera – and it all explodes into action when the time is right. I’m hiding a double chin, but never hiding the real me, right? Sure, everything else needs to be in order as well, but people really do look at your face.
So many psychologists from the olden days never wore beards. I suddenly wonder if they could really be trusted to understand my problems, you know?