I remember being young. We all do when we aren’t. However it isn’t always helpful, often is not. On facebook and my blog there’s this daily beckoning to look back as if ‘back’ is somehow better than ‘now’. In my daily quest to interrogate the efficacy of looking back with all its etceteras is in question because the wishes/fishes automatically arise when they have no right to. Once the western world decided to possibly but not always gently, rub out the ones like me who are old in years, and to effectively stop us doing all the things we still want to do instead of fanning what flames we still can generate, it doesn’t promise much for the middle aged, never mind the young of today. I should tell you that being old in years has zip to do with being ‘old’. Old people can still dance and when they do, let me tell you, there is admiration for their efforts. The sore bits, the discomforts, the whateverness of their current lives do not stop, don’t even hesitate in the thrum of life, the thrill of it, the desire to make fire, to make music, to dance. A word to the middle aged. Stop right now with your ‘stopping’ tactics. We made a huge difference once. We danced on tables, knocked back the shots, sang in public, sorted issues you may never encounter. We fixed boats and planes and household equipment. We fought for justice, made peace with warmongers, cleared a million tables and lived on barely any income. We tamped fires, delivered calves at midnight in January. We negotiated deals, sussed out falsehoods, calmed storms on a daily basis. Too many excellent humans are tidied away just because they can’t see so well, or hear, or who have become tripeds, or who forget to shave or who can only manage soup.

Looking back reminds me of what I could once do without any effort and of the loss of that. This is why I work at the Best Cafe Ever and want to keep doing so if that is an option. I can see how things are in this western thinking wherein, it seems to me, the bottom line is everything. People have considerably less value. Driving home today after work, my thinks were on this subject. Everything about a really dynamic life, regardless of age, involves people. Yes we are infuriating with all our allergies and quirks, our beliefs and skewed parabolas. We throw hissy fits over ‘stuff’ and we demand when we might just ask; we storm about in temper or acquiesce ourselves into a puddle; we spit when we might polish; we are selfish, damaged, awkward, grubby, weird. Of course we are. We are human.

In any work, any life, there are options. Will I choose to be arrogant, dismissive, ‘up myself’ in this one life, regardless of past influences however strong? Or will I make myself anew and at every age of my age? I ask myself that daily. It’s a good question because the answer and the actions thereafter are all under my control. I meet kindness and interest in my cafe work. I also meet the opposite, but I tell you this that, once welcomed and faced with a big display of cakes and the island teas and the magnificent coffees and hot chocolates, I sense a softening. It wonders me, this. Perhaps kindness and time and a big smile and helpfulness is all it took to melt that armour. Perhaps.