Let me tell you about Gene. I met her on a sunny winter morning down by the coast. The breeze was light, the swell was running, and the air was cool and clean, albeit laced with a salty seaweed funk. The fact that I could smell the seaweed was a good sign I did not have Covid, not that I should have any reason to believe that was an issue, and neither did Gene. You see it was the odour coming from the mountains of seaweed which caused our worlds to collide for these brief moments. I will never forget that opening line, “It’s a bloody eyesore isn’t it? How’s a person supposed to swim with all that seaweed”. I nodded in agreement as I sipped on my Long Macchiato, my first full cream milk coffee in a long time (perhaps it was not the seaweed I could smell). At this point, I really did not feel like talking. It was my day off work, and I had far too much time to waste than stand around talking to the elderly. Oh, the impetuousness of the elderly. Show some respect I muttered to myself, can’t you see I am drinking my macchiato. As I took a sip of my coffee, I looked across the dark, black lid and could see Gene smiling with a look of curiosity. Did she know what I was thinking? Of course, she did. Everyone knows the elderly are mystical, and besides, you could read my body language from outer space.
Milk was a bad choice
Right on cue, a waft of rotting seaweed smacked me in the face, knocking me to my senses. I was the one being disrespectful. Maybe I was scared, talking to strangers is hard. It’s unfamiliar, and to creatures of habit like us 30 something year-olds, breaking the familiar is not easy. That’s what happens as we get older, somewhere between adolescence and turning thirty, we lose that sense of naivety which makes us believe we are invincible. We start noticing the passage of time. Spur of the moment decisions happen less frequently, we become more calculated, boring and entrenched in the same, familiar patterns and habits – like watching reruns of the Simpsons and taking vitamin C before bed. Ever felt like you were in a rut? That is just one part of your mind telling the other part (I read an article on neuroscience as research) that you have become too comfortable. And there comes a choice – to break free, and grow, or stay comfortable, whither and die. Woah that escalated, maybe it was the milk in my coffee.
84 years young
I looked at Gene, standing resolutely with short white hair. Her calm face showed signs of age, but not in the physical sense. It was wisdom I could see, the kind that only comes with experience. Clearly Gene had chosen the path of growth and a life well lived. After an eternity of thinking, sipping, shuffling, doubting, I finally replied “Do you swim often?” Gene’s face grew bright, her body language opened, and her enthusiasm nearly knocked me off the handrail on which I was perched. Gene had successfully lured me into her world. “Everyday, unless the swell is too big or there if there is too much blasted seaweed”. The swell had been rather large recently, hence all the seaweed that had washed ashore. “It is all the recent stormy weather we have had, but today is beautiful”, I remarked. Gene continued talking, “Oh yes, today is a fine day. But still too much swell for me. I used to swim in the big swell, when I was younger, but I suffered a sporting injury to my knee five years ago”. Five years ago, and suffering a sports injury, surely not? Dumbfounded, I asked the obvious, “Wow, a sporting injury, how old were you when you did that?” “Well I was 84 years old at the time, and I was having a swimming race with my friends, there’s a group of us you see. The surf was a bit dumpy that day and to cut a story short, I got dumped and injured my knee. My name is Gene” her hand shot out. “Pleased to meet you Gene, my name is Mark”. The conversation rolled on from discussions about life, family, the ocean, exercising daily and how It was never too late to start something new.
Washed up in time
After some time, Gene expertly drew the conversation to a close, “I love chatting to locals, you learn so much about life. But I must trot off, I have places to be.” Was Gene being polite, what could she possibly have learned from me? I agree with you dear reader, that learning from me is a stretch. I reflected on the conversation as I continued to walk along the coast. Maybe that was the simplicity in Gene’s wisdom, demonstrating that although time is precious, there is always something to be learned in every experience, every conversation, no matter how mundane? For Gene, not to be grim, her time was far more precious than mine. The fact that she was so gracious in sharing it with me only highlighted what a tool I had been in thinking conversing with her was not worth mine in return. Initially, I had been content to waste that moment by the coast in comfortable, routine thinking. Until that conversation, the most extraordinary thing I had done out that day was to not get almond milk in my coffee. Talk about living. But to me at least, it is remarkable how easy we become caught up in the automatic program of daily life. Time is effortlessly lost to distraction. Busy being busy, we forget to acknowledge what is real and tangible beyond our own limited view of the world and what is truly worthy of our time. At some point we must get beyond what is comfortable, talk to strangers, learn new skills and embrace new experiences. Like Gene, sometimes we will get hurt, especially when the swells of life get rough. But we can always dust ourselves off, revaluate and correct our aim. And if we give up our time to autopilot and float along with the tide? Well then, we become like the seaweed washed up on a beach, left to rot as time rolls by.