The Answer

Many years ago at my local watering hole, a barfly named Frankie told me that the answers to life lay in the bottom of the glass. I must have thought that was sage advice as I spent the next 25 years searching for that answer. Bottle after bottle, pitcher upon pitcher, I drank on. Bleary eyed and hungover I would wake and the answer would be just out of reach, hanging in my mind like a spider's web and then gone with the rain of macro lagers I pounded in vain. What damage was wrought by two plus decades of silencing my voice with beer? Who knows but the Polkaroo the evil caused and done by drowning your troubles in tasteless, over chilled, mass produced brews? Time and time again I would vow to stop, to moderate, only to find another morning surrounded by empties, shame and a hazy memory of what had occurred.

 Then into my life came a light, a small flickering one at first; Growing slowly as it took down the ancient castles of ignorance, depression and anxiety. To taste a beer and enjoy it without losing yourself to the darkness was new to me. It wasn't a quick lesson, my life is not that simple. But it was a presence, a force and as time went on, Craft Beer became a way to be in the moment, not disappear and hide. You look deep into your glass because you know it will be a singular experience. This liquid is someone's dream, their hopes and passion brewed with care and quality. To pound it back and disregard that love is not only an insult, but a waste of what your vessel contains. Beer should not be an excuse to leave your friends and enter your own world. It is meant to be shared, to enhance and grow your life and maybe even bring some joy to a dreary day. Be it an old favourite or something you've never tried before, each one is waiting for you.

I chose better beer because I know the answer now. Where I searched frantically before to gain a moments joy from the fleeting haze of a drunken state, I slow down and ponder. I look not to the bottom of the glass, but into the full one that sits before me. I imagine the brewmaster planning the recipe, preparing to brew, firing up the kettle and then waiting to see the final results. It is a leap of faith to send your creation into the world and it is that act that has changed my life forever.

So I will go on. I will preach my thankful words and high praise for those who make this magic elixir. I will raise my voice in joy at the opening of a new beer and I will watch with a patient eye as the liquid hits the glass. The building of the foamy head, the scent of hops, malt or perhaps even coffee fills my senses. Before you sip, look at what has been carefully constructed and placed in your hand. Pick it up, say "Cheers!" and enjoy what is the answer I was looking for all along.

To raise your glass in happiness and drink in all that life has to offer is what I wanted. To see new and wonderful places, to meet amazing people who share a passion for something and to learn new things was all right there for the taking. I just had to remove the only obstacle in my way.

 Myself.

I learned to let myself experience life and despite my own trepidations, step out of my routine and comfort zone. Without Craft beer, this never happens and I am left bereft with nothing but sadness and that empty feeling. But I now know the thing that was missing, I choose MY path less travelled and it has indeed made all the difference.

This poem from Robert Frost of often quoted for its last three lines; It is also misunderstood just as often. Both paths are equally worn, but your memory and your choice will be what you are left with when your time comes to an end. I keep it close because it reminds me that while Frankie had good intentions, that path of macro was well worn with sad results. The Craft beer one is also well travelled, but when you look back, it will be this way that brought the most happiness to your life. Take a chance, try something new and explore all your local Craft Brewers have to offer. It is your choice, make it wisely and be brave.

Cheers!

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.