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Posted on November 9, 2016 by j.g.lewis · Leave a comment

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J.G. Lewis

A writer/photographer living and breathing in the greater Toronto area.

original content and images © j.g. lewis.

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.

a daily breath . . .

Mondays are just young Fridays

What are your options today?
We all have them. Mostly.
For every one thing, there are
many ways, many times a day.
There is any number of options,
but as soon as you number your
options, you limit your choices.
The world is full of options. . .
you don’t have to choose just one.

096/21/2021 j.g.l.

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Happy Father’s Day

“Dad says I'll understand when I grow up. He tells me that all the time now and I want to be big like him so that I can understand everything. It must be lovely to wake up in the morning and understand everything.”
-Frank McCourt

You grow up thinking that your
Dad knows everything. It is not
until you are a grown up that
you learn — perhaps when you
are a father yourself — that Dads
can’t know everything.
They only try to understand.
We are all learning, whether
you are the father or the child.

Happy Father’s Day.

06/20/2021 j.g.l.

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Mondays are just young Fridays

Some days are better than others; other days are worse than they should be, and many are the same as they have been before.
Nights are not long enough, and the days are too short.
Some days suffer by reputation or familiarity, few offer the mystery they have in the past, yet there are those that simply happen as they should. Those days, you see or do a couple more things than you usually do and manage a few surprises along the way. It just happens, and is more appreciated when it is not all planned out.
Many days are meant to be adventures, others do not move swiftly enough.
What you can count on is that Wednesday will always follow Tuesday, and then Thursday just takes place. Saturdays often blur into Sundays. If you do it right, Mondays are just young Fridays. It is not always routine, nor is it day after day again and again, as if it is part of the process.
Take from each day what it offers, and leave behind what you can, when you can; surely there will further disappointments or delays in the days ahead.
Try to spend more time remembering the good days, because bad days have a way of reminding you what they were and when they were. Celebrate the good ones, and try to squeeze in a few more in on a regular basis.

06/14/2021 j.g.l.

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A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking.
They may get you thinking too . . .

haiku 4 you

do you understand
what’s going on?

06/18/2021 j.g.l.

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By Any Other Name

More obvious than DNA, presence
or personality: identity. Individually,
names are given out by someone else,
by family or memory. Titles awarded
before character is developed,
without our knowledge.

A voice we live with. Should you
call out, what will you hear? A name:
in the end, all we are left with. Goodbye.
What you remember and often forget.
Introduction requires random thought
of specific examples.

Fingerprint fact and interpretation, a
name, birth date, statistics, history always
living proof of every step taken, up until
now. Evidence you are all you believe in,
selfish presentation of self-image, under
circumstances that change along with us.

Do you represent what others might think?
How well do they know you? Would you
be any different under any other name?
Will that person remain the same as you
if it were true? Hello. Ask yourself.
It is a hard title to live up to.

06/17/2021 j.g.l.

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Rainy Day Ways

I don’t do umbrellas.
Well, I do… or I have, but it is always a temporary thing.
It seems I can never keep a bumbershoot in my possession.
Who knows how many I have lost, or misplaced, or left behind at unknown points along my journey? I have purchased, been gifted, and found more umbrellas than I dare to count. Many have been abandoned in cabs, coffee shops or cocktail lounges, business meetings, funerals, hotel rooms, or hanging on the coat rack at some soon-forgotten lover’s apartment (I do remember the quick getaway in the pre-dawn hours, only to be reminded by the downpour on the wet tenement steps the moment I got outside).
I will not spend another dollar on something I am sure to lose again, the money far better spent on lottery tickets where there is an even greater chance of a return.
Instead, on those mornings where rain has arrived or is threatening, I choose to don this old reliable Tilley hat that my father gave me some 30 years ago. With an almost umbrella-sized brim (protecting my eyeglasses from errant or evident splish-splash), it is ugly, utilitarian, and utterly useful; with hands-free convenience, it does what it is supposed to do, promises nothing more, and is there when I need it.
I haven’t lost it yet.

06/15/2021 j.g.l.

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Only Wednesday

Wednesday sits naked
and ordinary
waiting

between the bookends of social Saturday
and restive Sunday. The day is
little more

than a cluster of hours or a stop on the
treadmill. Indecisive and
lonely

nobody chooses a Wednesday. Nothing
happens
on a Wednesday

and it’s the same each week.

Sept 11/01, a Tuesday. London Subway bombings: July 7/05, a Tuesday, also July 21/05,
and also a Tuesday. Assassinations: John Lennon on a Monday, Martin Luther King Jr. a
Thursday, and John F. Kennedy a Friday. Kurt Cobain’s body was discovered on a
Wednesday, but he chose his way out three days earlier. Nothing happens on a
Wednesday.

There are fewer concerts mid-week, and opening night is never a Wednesday. They
never open the Olympics on a Wednesday. Nobody gets married on a Wednesday.

Yet I will choose Wednesday, or I will start with a Wednesday. I'll begin with a page, a
place where I can plant my thoughts. I have many thoughts, each week, every day (even
on Wednesday), but I will commit to posting something once a week. There are seven
days to choose from, and I chose Wednesday.

Now I may post something else on some other day, I’m like that (a true Gemini). If I am
moved or if I have time, if the stars align or the moon gives me a nudge, or if something
is really bothering me, I won’t wait for Wednesday. But I will post something each
Wednesday.

Something will happen each Wednesday, every week. Right here. If you want to see, or
wish to be reminded, sign up. There will also be a daily breath (usually 140 characters or
less) and it will not be limited to Wednesday, but will, or should, arrive every day.

Until Wednesday . . .

-j-

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