1999

It was 1999 and you could smell it. When the river met the sunset and the water met the edge. Orange in colour. In air. In feel. And on your skin.


When the people you were with were more than family and the things you heard were more than lessons. They were fables shared and memories in the making. When holidays were journeys of the soul… and the mind… and they transcended its own boundaries. When the people who were there then – and who are not here now – shared moments we never thought would go away.

It was 1999 and you could smell it. Computers were about to die and we were on the Orange River. Calculators were about to be confused with their own programming and we didn’t give a shit. We thought about sunscreen, swimming, capsizing and a safe place to sleep at night. We wondered how not to be wimps, while being wimps.

It was when friendships were being formed, reformed… and engagements were fresh; where personalities were incarnate and no pretences were upheld… when people had responsibilities and responsibilities were being ignored – on purpose.

It was 1999 and I was new. Obnoxious. Arrogant. All-knowing… but new. New in my skin. A skin that only then had a name… And a new way in how it was then negotiating an avenue to present itself, its personality, my walk, my talk. How I held my eyes and where they “did not look”. (The guide was an attractive Adonis of a man – you must know.)

It was 1999 and the first and last change of millennium we will ever traverse. Jean. Sandra. Barry. Mags. Shelly. Patrick. Niki. Glenn. Kim. Jason. Mel. Ant. Richard. Lynette. Terry. Viv. Karen… and me. On a way through life we could never have imagined; floating through some issues and rapidly through others.

It was 1999 and you could smell it. You still can if you try hard enough. Raw, vigilant yet friendly times where people listened without listening and swam without having to keep their heads above water. It was 1999 and it was what it was. Just that. Just great times. Just a journey. Just a spectacular leap of faith for those who thought they couldn’t do it and did – and those who thought they knew they could and didn’t quite…

It was 1999 and you could smell it.

I still try.

Do you?


© Dylan Balkind 2009
 

Baskets of happiness

Your energy is a decision that has the strength to be relentless, immeasurable and unmatchable. Your naivety is beautiful and its innocence can be invigorating, illuminating and most of all pure. The only decisions we should be worried about, are those to be open and a willingness to engage, receive and appreciate that our inexperience is an offering rather than a crutch.

Building paper houses on the beach where the tide washes in is the same sense of fragility we negotiate everyday; a tight rope between feeling creatively good about ourselves while being subject to impulses, urges and the whim of those who share in our space and our time.

So… it is not always easy not to get involved… But… your senses are your God-given gifts that reward you with the prize of being able to be tangible with your surrounds and the personalities that you connect with daily. Collect only the good stuff that carries the glitter and the magic into your life and put it into your basket of happiness to take with you on your own snippets-of-life journey - to wherever it is you are going.


© Dylan Balkind 2009

Each day - its own surprise

Between cooking, birthdays, gatherings, movies and more cooking – I realised this weekend what a blessing it is to have people in your life – who actually matter. I won’t say I have never felt lonely, but in retrospect that has only been because of a self serving need for having something to complain about. It’s been easy to complain about people and how they might let you down, or disappoint you or not be there. But then you see who is and that you are still blessed in that.

There’s only one month to go before we hit the road for a two week break in Hermanus… doing nothing! I have never looked forward to doing nothing as much as I do right now. To read and relax and eat seafood and drink wine and hang out with people or avoid them at all costs; each day will be its own surprise.

I think it has been a hell of a year. And although some of the transforming went down like razor blades, and that it is maybe only over the last week that I am feeling the results, its warming to feel that I got here. And got back. Back to that unrelenting optimism I used to have and carry about me like wares on my journey. I lost it somewhere along the way in the melee to be in front. But I found it again; and here I am.

Hello world. I’m changed but still me. And thrilled that each day is its own surprise.


© Dylan Balkind 2009

Mags 06.08.1978

You came into my life. You enjoy my CDs,
You teach me to seize opportunities.
I’ve watched you walk the plank and survive it evermore.
I’ve watched you never fear for closing doors.

You showed me that some people actually can be real,
You shared your love and you taught me how to heal.
You taught me to trust again and showed me so many precious things.
You taught me your own real meaning of being ‘best friends’.

So I’ve learnt…

Friends are friends who come over. Over to drink.
Drink to chat. Chat to clear the air.
Air that needs clearing. Clearing spaces in time, mind, heart and soul.
Soul that might be sad or angry. Angry because life isn’t always fair.
Fair enough, because who says it ever has to be?
Be open when you feel like this because you know.
Know this is the best way to reflect you.
You that knows, lives, hurts, cries and laughs.
Laughs from the inside out whenever given the chance.
Chances taken because your subconscious decided.
Decided this is how it would be.
Be ok because you have security in that.
That place you created when you were innocent and young.
Young enough not to care about any issues but being bold.
Bold enough to live without fear.
Fear of maybe never having, losing or being without friends.
Friends who come over.

I beg you not to change but know you never will,
Because your mantra is that life must know your drill.
You’re a breeze of fresh air and this is your fuel,
You are the most honest person because you are real.

You came into my life. You enjoy my CDs,
You teach me to seize opportunities.
You taught me to trust again and showed me so many precious things.
And taught me your own real meaning of being ‘best friends’.


© Dylan Balkind 2009

Wandering from the light

Sometimes you wander from where the light was shining,
but find your way back fuelled by your darkened souls pining –
For the way you always thought your life would pan out,
and now that you’re back you have absolutely no doubt…

You did stupid things at all hours of the night,
and you made people angry and started many fights.
But only because they worried and truly care about you,
and no strangers you thought you knew, can ever truly know you…

Because it takes time and life to get inside someone’s head,
and understand what they love about life – and why they are scared of being dead.
What makes them cry while sad, laughing, depressed or happy,
and why it is that we never really get out of the nappy…

We all have a crutch and a way to exist,
while we pretend we are big with such vehement persist.
We do things for reactions for ones self or with others,
while forgetting so quickly that none of this matters.

That the shoes standing on your heart – are probably yours,
because you continue to shun reality and close the same old doors.
Only inside-your-head can understand why it-is-what-it-is,
and that is the funny part, that you actually dread.

Let go of insecurity and its best-friend the paranoia squirm,
it’s all in your own head, that nobody will confirm.
And when you see it like this you will see a new is-what-it-is.
Strength, fighting survival and real emotional happiness.

And you might wander again from where that light is shining,
but you will find your way back by your darkened souls pining –
Because you know the way you thought your life would pan out,
and you know that coming back, is the only undoing of doubt.



© Dylan Balkind 2009

Stellar Bright

Frogs croak and firecrackers abound,
all I need now is a dozen fireflies around -
to make life more like a fairy tale than ever before,
but I see that it is what it is, as I stare out from the stage door.

Lightning lights up the sky that I’m looking at once again,
I see my view has changed while I immersed myself within -
a joyful energy and an upbeat rhythm inside,
a louder drum beating, keeping this rhythm alive.

You know the one, we all do actually,
we are closer to our dreams not dwelling on reality.
You can make others see it too when you open your eyes,
when you step out of the shackles, and shake off the ties.

It is the very texture of people that makes us interesting...

So you write your secret on a postcard and you send it to Frank,
and when you do that, there is only one person to thank.
The person in the mirror who let go of something deep,
and started the uphill walk, not daunted by how steep.

Because sometimes life just is, uphill both ways,
it is your commitment to the journey that will change you in a way -
a way that will remind you just where it is that you came from,
while you realign your tempo to the rhythm of a new drum.

What's interesting is that we want to be big when we are small,
that no matter how big you are, you think you’re never quite tall –
tall enough for yourself or maybe a nagging voice within,
but never letting on, preserving only the outward grin.

You can go to school each day and be drowned within,
the gossip and the bullying and the unnecessary chagrin.
Some learned times and some very wasted times at that,
until it dawns on you that inside you’re quite phat…

One day you’ll stop whining and only write about this,
seeing the lessons from your past, ensuring that you grow from it.
And then they’ll stop gossiping because they can see who you are,
a beautiful and stellar bright – star among stars.

So if you don’t like me or what I write about here,
click to another site and go search elsewhere…
For fables about life you know you see yourself in,
and surprisingly acknowledge that on your face sits a grin.

I’m proud of my journey and the diary’s I keep,
on these pages, they’re me, both strong but still weak.
I can look back with humility and remember the old me,
while I listen to the storm that blows in through the trees.

Lightning lights up the sky that I’m looking at once again,
I sip on my wine and I hear the start of the rain.
Ah... I see your view has changed while you immersed yourself within,
and surprisingly you acknowledge that on your face sits a grin.

You look back with humility and remember the old you,
and make plans to fill yet another pair of original shoes.
It is now that you know that we are all the bees knees,
while you too listen, to the storm that blows in through the trees...



© Dylan Balkind 2009

I like this . . .

“For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice.”

Little Gidding II