The years keep coming …

On getting older

Not entirely. Depending on the fcks, I can give a few. But the age thing ? Wotever.

Currently I’d pick my actual age at round 36, tho my birth certificate suggests 67. Someone’s wrong. I’m a decade or two deep, counting back the yrs. From memory it was my 50th birthday party when I let the kids run the bar - a beautiful irresponsible chaos. Yep. was about then the serious unmaturing began.

There’ve been a few turnkey moments … early days Zumba and I’m watching this very zen person dancing and smiling, while I’m grimacing away down the back, both my feet in the blender. Observing my vibe-smiling dance sister happy in her work got me thinking … ‘wouldn’t that be cool, I’d love to do that too’ … the smiling bit at least, the footwork came later, and within no time my disposition shifted. Sometimes it just takes one person. Now I prance like a happy gazelle, catch me if U can. True my short-term’s a bit shot on remembering the patterns, could be some 67 in there, but I’m now relishing the gay abandon of dance and togetherness. I love all my homies in the dance hall. It’s a high.

Then there was 4 yrs ago I put in a couple of summers working on a landscaping team, boss was 25, I loved that. An honour to chisel steps into some rich geezer’s air bnb hillside with a bunch of 20 somethings. Hard work shared, always a bond in that. And the chats we had. Lucky-as Baz.

I never set out to un-mature. 6 formative years in Hamilton are a decent headwind to contend with. Had I paced out another 6, kept my head down, I’d have been in the running for Mayor, or even Nat party member for TronWest holding the line on compliance, conservatism, complacency, Classic Hits and comfort. But no, punk rock and Uni took care of that.

So no fcks given bout the passing years, the whole scene just gets rowdier with the passing of time. Can’t wait till I unmature back to Yr 10 or 11 at school, where my whole world was mischief. A bro and I burnt Mr Widgery’s hedgerow eyebrows when on cue we blew down the gas taps in science causing Widgee’s burner to go monster, that old chestnut … spilt his condy’s crystal’s all over the show as he sprinted for the door, brows still smoking. Locking us down in rooms all day, fancy grown ups thinking they could get away with that. I hear it still goes on, the school thing.

My body sometimes calls me into check as I unpack my newfound youth, but it’s also in there with me, ‘yeah Baz, we’re good, bend me shake me use me.’ Been some system malfunctions but mostly we’re a happy pair, body and I. He/she/they continues to give me consent, and that is a much valued permission.

It’s the heart, mind and soul that I feel really get the spoils as I count back the years.

Full disclosure, I’m high as a fckn kite at the mo. Not on weed or anything, tho it seems half the peep’s I know have a prescription now, I’m just permanently delighted.

Could be I’m still glowing from my tour round some of NZ’s Envirohubs and sustainability centres . I’ve got a bunch of endorsements saying ‘Baz is a gibbon on acid, spectrum 4 sure, but yeah we recommend you do his workshop.’ It’s a bit like collecting a few certificates at prizegiving, must be doing something right.

No it’s not the ego on this occasion, it’s the numerous groups of righteous citizens I’ve come across doing amazing stuff in the community space - many with an environmental/food resilience take. I love it when people do stuff that serves others first, not pursuit of personal coin or property. The truly wealthy.

In each of these communities there are one or two other unmaturing gibbons on acid making cool stuff happen, and loads of others on team, varying less gibbon, still some acid. These peeps are beautiful troublemakers.

A few blogs back I mentioned a book that really rang true… Rutger Bergman’s ‘Humankind’. He’s now begun a substack and this is his first post , angling it at people redirecting their talents into something that he terms a moral seriousness. Maybe mayor of Hamilton could’ve been worth a shot after all. Depends what kind of moral seriousness we’re talking bout.

I think when we’re energised by something bigger than us and we know it to be right in our hearts, we rise beyond the mercantile world of money and pomp. Of institution and title. Moves that involve risk and courage, like leaving a career, making a stand as an unpopular minority, a fringe dweller. Do this when we’re not ‘sorted’ as many in these communities aren’t, and we risk homelessness and poverty. It can be brave work.

The good news I have to report is that there are growing communities around NZ doing very cool stuff with all moral seriousness, mostly unfunded. A sizeably larger demographic than the original peace sign wearing lentil loving greenies. God bless ‘em.

Yes, the tribes are growing, not before time, and this more than anything else is what keeps me so excited about my advancing youth. Community is on a roll. Not that our mainstream media would have you know that. Still a menu of anxiety and bad news on the bleeds/leads front. Hence my mission to help create local community storytellers to celebrate initiatives, bottlenecks and work-arounds.

I have never been more excited about the future, it happens with getting younger. I’m stimulated by the changes approaching, cos fck me this construct we have as humans, how we co-exist with each other and Mother Nature - or not, so needs a rebuild. Lots of our brothers n’ sisters in less privileged parts of the world have been under the hammer for generations. NZ is not all innocence either.

It might take its pretty little time to fully unpack in our picture perfect Hampton’s of the South Pacific, but shared duress is on its way. Half the worlds currently awake at night on scroll feeding the anger bots punching in cortisol codes. Glory be.

So again a call for all hands on deck. Bury ourselves in endless Netflix series if we must but a more sage approach would suggest we do more than just circle the wagons round the bruises. Time to get our hands in the soil, metaphorically and literally. Interesting blog here, nutshell quote being “While the wealthy cling to logistics and illusion, the real defence strategy is soil and local growers who refuse to let their communities starve.”

Here’s the 60 second challenge for my maturing peers. Start getting younger on it. Whatever we have - our time, positive vibes, experience, money, property, compost, stuff, use it to give traction to those who are inheriting this dance, get morally serious on it, get un-old. Join me in becoming less responsive to expectations of decorum and obedience, more aware of the greater us, get scared, try things that seem impossible but we know to be right. Six impossible things before breakfast.

Devise ways to hang with younger generations if they are not naturally part of the domestic furniture and be prepared to change our thoughts on what’s right and wrong, again and again. Refresh the browser. Rock our own boats. Be part of the new visions that are forming for how we conduct ourselves going fwd.

I look at my kids and their kids, all of them free tickets to a younger take on stuff. I’m both passing the baton and jumping into the mosh pit with them. Cannot recommend that last bit enough. Watch out for BoomerDrop though, that’s what happens when you launch yourself off stage and your vibe is all wrong. Rather than catch U, Gen Z will part like Moses doing a runner and you’ll splat on the floor like a full nappy. Still, some points for trying. Tip - padded rompers for the mosh pit.

It’s said that when you hit 60 you’ve done five full zodiac cycles @ 12 yrs apiece and your life begins anew, which would make me 7 yrs old. No chance, I’m well into my 30’s … I hope I make it to 7.

Till next time :)