Experience has taught me, when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because, if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.

When thoughts hijack your body

There's something wonderfully honest in Housman admitting that a stray line of poetry can derail him mid-shave. Most of us know the feeling—not necessarily about poetry, but about how a sudden thought or memory can physically interrupt what we're doing. Your body responds before your mind catches up. The muscles tense, your hands shake slightly, and whatever routine task you were on autopilot for suddenly demands full attention.

What's revealing is that he frames this as something he's learned to watch for. He's not trying to suppress the poetry or ignore his thoughts. He's simply keeping alert, the way you might notice your shoulders hunching when you're stressed. This small act of attention—recognizing when your mind is hijacking your body—is actually the opposite of what most people do. We usually just white-knuckle through, wondering why simple tasks feel harder some days.

The deeper angle here is that Housman is describing the impossibility of truly mindless routine. We can't just switch off our inner lives when we need to focus. And maybe that's not a weakness. Maybe staying aware of what's moving through your head, even during mundane moments, is what keeps you actually alive and present rather than sleepwalking through your day.