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