My New-Year-resolution this year was to 'go with the flow'. Looking back, I believe I felt that this was important but I really had no idea what it meant. I carried a lot of weight on my shoulders, marriage, children, work, organization, striving to get better at everything and to have more, striving for my children to use every minute to learn and grow... Now I see why it felt uncomfortable. And why the random moments of spontaneity felt good.
In Africa, I relaxed and gave up all control. I let myself be carried by the moments and I felt the breathing of the world around me. I let myself be asleep until woken up by someone's word, a breeze in the tree branches, Buffalo Soldier on the radio, the snowy Kili shape in the twinkling night sky, the silence of the hundred tents at 4000m, Zach's aching shape up on the ridge, High Hopes, the memory of the smell of Sarajevo after rain, the unhindered laugh of Ernest, Boris and I, the summer storm over Serengeti, the burning impatient horizon from Stella Point, Boris walking away from my lazy sloppiness at Kilimanjaro airport, the silence of Ernest and Boris sleeping and me writing then waking up together with the chitas, the world of Nickson, the warm sunset colours filling the tent in Tarangire, the shower mixed with rain in Serengeti and falling asleep afterwards, Freddrick's presence, someone's wish to kiss my eyes.
When there is no past or future, no other thoughts or feelings, we let ourselves go and let the universe create the moments of happiness. We go with the flow.
The most beautiful present I received this year was this story from Boris, written in 2006. Up on 4000m, while listening to High Hopes by Pink Floyd, Boris shared it with me, then he sent it to me on my birthday. It made me cry and I felt it needed to be shared. It is a story about giving up control and living in a moment. It led to our moment.
Original story by Boris Bokov, 2006.:
Ove sam godine u razmaku od 25 dana vidio Pink Floyd na dva kraja svijeta. Gdansk i Toronto. David Gilmour i Roger Waters. "On an Island" i "Dark Side of the Moon". Kazem Pink Floyd, mada ni u Gdansku ni u Torontu nisu nastupali pod tim imenom. Ni u Gdansku ni u Torontu nisu bili kompletni - u Poljskoj su nastupili dvojica, a u Kanadi opet dvojica. U sustini to i nije bilo bitno, tko svira. U Gdansku ih je osim toga pratio poljski simfonijski orkestar, a u Torontu nije. No nije ni to bilo bitno. Bitna je bila glazba.
Dok sam stajao u dijelu gledalista zvanom A2, u Gdansku, i kad su zvona oznacila pocetak pjesme "High Hopes", kroz glavu si mi prosle misli koje su me vratile 12 godina u proslost, u ono vrijeme kad sam prvi put cuo tu pjesmu.
Bio je 10 mjesec i padala je hladna kisa. Ona sarajevska, jesenja, koju osjete i znaju samo oni koji su se rodili tamo. Ta je kisa za nas lijepa i pored hladnoce, jer nam donosi onaj miris, za koji znamo od malena, kao da je dio naseg genetskog koda. I taj nam miris inicira osjecaje i sjecanja na one dane djetinjstva kad smo se igrali u nasoj ulici, i to po bas takvoj kisi. Ja sam se bas bio vratio sa 'terena', tog listopada 1994, kako smo zvali nase 'izlete' na crte obrane. I opet sam bio tu, kod kuce, citav i zdrav, opet se vratio neogreban, po tko zna koji put. I po tko zna po koji put je pocinjala duga, hladna, tamna sarajevska noc. Sarajevo je jos uvijek bilo tu, nepokoreno, i sa nekim neobjasnjivim strpljenjem me je ucilo o strpljenju. Izgledalo je kao voda u kojoj se uzburkao mulj, i sada je trebalo vremena da se taj mulj slegne i da voda opet bude cista i prozirna. A za to treba vremena.
Pozvao sam svog andjela i pitao ga kao i svaki put prije toga, zasto me je vratio u sigurnost, u to malo topline, i zasto sam ja opet ostao citav. Nije bilo odgovora, kao i obicno, no tu je bio znak. Andjel mi je uvijek ostavljao znakove, i nije mi puno toga objasnjavao. Morao sam sam shvatiti sve to, i sam odgovoriti na pitanja. Ovoga puta je znak bio na stolu. Jedna kazeta je stajala na komadu papira. Na kazeti je samo pisalo 'Pink Floyd', a na papiru je bilo samo napisano: "Znam da ih volis. Daso". Ja tada nisam znao da je to bio znak. Moj imaginarni prijatelj se volio igrati sa mnom.
Imali smo struje to vece, bas kad sam se vratio, i bas kad me je ta kazeta cekala. Mogao sam je slusati. Stavio sam je u stari kazetofon koji sam dobio od Slavena Markovica, covjeka kojeg nisam nikad vise vidio. Na kazeti je bio novi album Pink Floyda, "The Division Bell", koji je tek bio objavljen. Nisam se mogao nacuditi otkud i kako ga je Daso nabavio, no u tom momentu mi to nije bilo bitno. Slusao sam bez daha pjesme, jednu za drugom, i onda ponovo, pa ponovo. Imali smo i plina tu noc, tako da mi je bilo toplo. Mogao sam se okupati 'normalno', i obrijati. Zivot nije mogao biti bolji u tom trenutku. Slusao sam glazbu koju volim, u toplom kutku, i bio sam na sigurnom. Jednu sam pjesmu vrtio stalno. I vrtio je, i vrtio je. Ta je pjesma bila "High Hopes". Govorila je o djetinjstvu, o onom periodu zivota kada smo jos uvijek bili cisti i neiskvareni. Jedan stih je stalno odzvanjao: "Running before time took our dreams away".
Ja sam slusao tu pjesmu na starom Slavenovom kazetofonu, a vani je padala kisa, i Sarajevo je bilo jesenski mokro, tiho i sjetno. Nisam tada gledao ni u buducnost, niti sam se vracao u proslost. Uzivao sam u tom trenutku, znao sam da takvih trenutaka nema puno, posebno tada, kada i nisam bio svjestan koliko je vazno uzivati u sadasnjosti. Valjda sam samo osjecao. Tada nisam znao da su ti trenuci bili upravo ono sto je i sama pjesma opisivala, to je tada pocelo pripadati nekoj proslosti, koja je ostala tamo, u Sarajevu, u gradu na kraju i u centru svijeta istovremeno.
A sada sam bio u Gdansku, na brodogradilistu gdje se dogodila revolucija bas na taj dan, 26. kolovoza 1980. I slusao sam "High Hopes", i pomislio na Andjela koji mi je dao neko znacenje i smisao 12 godina prije toga, i pomogao mi shvatiti sebe, i svijet. Bio sam medju 100 000 ljudi na obali Baltickog mora, a bio sam sam, u svojim mislima, i sa svojim mislima, pokrenut glazbom. Nisam znao gdje je bio Julius, negdje smo se zagubili medju ljudima....Sabina je bila u starom Gdansku, ucila povijest grada. Mozda sam morao na neki nacin ovo iskusiti, biti ovdje, mozda sam zato prevazisao sve one scile i haridbe. Mozda sam na ovaj nacin morao saznati vise o djetinjstvu, o onom vremenu u kojem smo bili cisti, njezni, u kojem smo bili djeca. Dok je David Gilmour zavrsavao pjesmu onim poznatim, dugim solom, koji se u ovoj verziji zavrsavao akusticnom gitarom, sjetio sam se svoje mame, koja mi je rekla davno da sam se rodio pod sretnom zvijezdom. I onda me stegnulo u srcu i knedla se zaustavila u grlu. Bila je apsolutna tisina, svi su pazljivo slusali zadnje note ove emocionalne, osobne pjesme, a ja sam se smijao, a bio sam u suzama, i znao sam da zivot ne moze biti bolji nego sada.
My translation, 2013.:
This year, within 25 days, I saw Pink Floyd on two sides of the world, in Gdansk and in Toronto. David Gilmour and Roger Waters. "On an Island" and "Dark Side of the Moon". I said, Pink Floyd, but neither in Gdansk nor in Toronto they performed under that name. In both places the band was incomplete and only the two of them performed. But it really did not matter who they performed with, nor that in Gdansk it was with the Polish symphony orchestra. What mattered was the music.
While I stood in the part of audience called A2, in Gdansk, and while the bells were announcing the beginning of the song "High Hopes", thoughts were going through my head that took me back twelve years to when I had heard that song for the first time.
It was October, it was cold and raining. The Sarajevo autumn rain, familiar to those born there. That rain, for us, is beautiful, regardless of the cold, because it brings to us the scent we remember since we were little, as if it was built into our genetic code. That scent initiates the feelings and the memories of the days of our childhood when we played on our street, in that same rain. That October of 1994. I had just returned from "the field", as we called our "outings" to the front line. And I was there, at home, again intact and healthy, again I came back without a scratch, like so many times before. And like so many times before, a long, dark Sarajevo night was beginning. Sarajevo was still there, undefeated, and with an unexplainable patience it was teaching me about patience. Like a muddy water, it required time for the dirt to settle and for the water to be clean and clear again. It took time.
I called upon my angel and asked him, as many times before, why he had returned me to safety, to this warm place, and why again I had survived. As usual, there was no answer, but there was a sign. My angel always left me the signs, never explaining much. It expected me to come to the understanding on my own, to find the answers. This time, the sign was on the table. A cassette tape was sitting on a piece of paper. On the tape, it said, "Pink Floyd", and on the paper was a message, "I know you like them. Daso." Back then I did not know that this was a sign. My imaginary friend liked to play games with me.
That night the electricity came back, and so did I, and I found the tape. I was able to listen to it. I slid it into the old cassette player, that I got from Slaven Markovic, a man I have not seen again. On the cassette tape was a new Pink Floyd album "The Division Bell", that had just come out. I had no idea where and how Daso got a hold of it, but in that moment, I did not care. Breathless, I listened to the songs, one by one, and then again and again. We also had gas that night and the heating was on. I was able to shower and shave. Life could not have been better in that moment. I listed to the music that I loved, in a warm and safe place. One song I rewound many times. And rewound, and rewound. The song was "High Hopes". It talked about the childhood, the period of our lives when we were still innocent and unspoiled. One verse continued to resonate: "Running before time took our dreams away".
I was listening to that song on Slaven's old cassette player, it was raining outside, and Sarajevo was autumny wet, silent and melancholic. I did not look into the future, nor did I go back into the past. I enjoyed that moment, and I somehow knew that such moments do not happen often, even though then I did not know the importance of living in the present. My feelings took over. I did not know then that those moments were exactly what the song talked about, that they started belonging to the past that I left there, in Sarajevo, the city at the end and in the centre of the world at the same time.
And now I was in Gdansk, in the shipyard where the revolution happened exactly on that day, the 26th of August, 1980. I was listening to "High Hopes" and thinking of my Angel that gave me the significance and the meaning twelve years ago, that helped me understand myself and the world. I was among 100,000 people, at the Baltic Sea, and I was alone, with my thoughts, and my thoughts were moved by the music. I did not know where Julius was, we lost each other in the crowd… Sabina was in the Old Gdansk, learning its history. Maybe it was important to experience this, be here, maybe this is why I overcame all those Scillies and Charybdis. Maybe it was important to learn about childhood this way, about the time when we were innocent and gentle, when we were children. While David Gilmour was ending the song with his famous, long solo, which, in this version was finishing with the acoustic guitar, I remembered my mom, who, long time ago, told me that I was born under a lucky star. And I felt weight on my chest, and a lump in my throat. In absolute silence, as everybody was immersed and listening to the last tones of this emotional, personal song, I was laughing, and I was in tears, and I knew that life could not be better than now.
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