Today might not be what it is
without yesterday being all
that it was.
In a succession of events,
unplanned or programmed,
rarely do we consider
what has happened,
as it happens.
Sometimes we speak less
about things that matter
as we think we have
more time, as such.
Oftentimes
we do not speak of
things we should
as they are happening,
in the time that remains.
In the time we are given,
the present persists.
10/15/2024 j.g.l.
Pick up what’s left of the shadow that has been trailing you for a week or three, the one you have noticed even when the sun hasn’t been shining as it should.
Of course there have been distractions (there always is), even as your nerves are beginning to fray, and all those anxieties still follow you, surprisingly so, on any old day.
Intermittent rain washes away hopes and plans dreamed on and diminished now. Still, you have the time and, more importantly, you have the mind to make it all happen. You’ve got something more important to say.
10/14/2023 j.g.l.
Poetry is power, and poetry is
a weakness, as much cowardice
as courage. A delightful
contradiction, it sucks at your
soul, and, like a fussy infant,
cannot wait to be fed. More.
Not to be silenced until sated.
Nourished then,
it so slips into gentle slumber,
life’s rhythm allowing dreams and
sweet solace, only to wake soiled
and screaming. Comfort comes
with a soothing voice, gentle touch,
and reassurance. Flesh and blood,
innocent for only a while, it grows
alongside you, until it stands
on its own.
Poetry.
You give it life, then it to you.
© 2016 j.g. lewis
Do you wonder, as you wander,
about the dreams left along the way?
Scattered thoughts, they still
remind you of the reasons why
you remained sheltered from the
delusions, paying so little attention
to the obvious.
A little while from now, less than
expected (more than you know),
what was left over from a generation
of pride and greed, misfortune and
disease will continue to haunt you.
It always does.
The politics appall you. There is no
honour, not in shame nor the
cowardice within. Not now.
10/17/2024 j.g.l.
Thanksgiving is a day for reflecting on life and the people who make it all that it is. It is a day for celebrating family, those who are with you around the dinner table and those you could not be with.
I am blessed.
10/13/2024 j.g.l.
Mornings do not wait until you are ready, they happen naturally.
Day-by-day a different view, a change of pace, the same old you. Your perspective goes a long way in solving the curiosities that will engage you throughout your life.
Where will your light settle today?
10/10/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Our view of love changes as
we age. What we feel, all we know
to be true, is provided a fresh point of view.
We forget, from time to time, what it was
when it was something else.
Perspective.
All the mental aspects of affection and
emotions will overwhelm if given a chance,
but for the longest time
we did not allow ourselves to know
the certain realm, or definite destination
of love and all it is capable of.
It is more than physical,
stronger than it has ever been, and
strengthened
over the years and beyond.
Empathy finds its place amidst
individual passions. Understanding becomes
the strongest sense of a relationship.
As we age, we are capable
of something greater, or have we just
realized, now, what love can truly be?
© 2024 j.g. lewis
If it is now, then
too long I have waited. Shadows of moments past
blur
one into the next
and I remained confounded
by all that has happened since.
This time I take for granted
can no longer be shared. I have already experienced
the ripeness of the moment, the cool breeze
that arrives with autumn, knowing
there is still so much ahead of me.
© 2024 j.g. lewis
About a month ago I signed up for a program looking into mobility and healthy aging, anchored by weekly two-hour sessions at a local community center focusing on exercise, nutrition and information with a physiotherapist, dietitian and public nurse.
The group-based sessions are “focused on increasing knowledge, skills, and behaviors related to activity, healthy eating and available community supports for older adults.”
I am, after all, an older adult. I knew that when I signed up for the program — administered by McMaster University — that were looking for study participants aged 55+.
It was only after I arrived at the first session and was waiting for the program to begin that the term “older adult” had an impact on me.
As I browed through the information brochures in front of me, I read, over and over, references to this age group: “Physical activity for older adults”, “24-hour movement guidelines for older adults”, “Active Aging Canada”, and “Canada Food Guide Tips for Seniors” with a thorough collection of tasty recipes enhanced with key ingredients for “older adults”
Then there was the newsletter with a headline that really affected me: “Looking to make the most of your Golden Years”
Really?
Is this the “stage of life” that I have entered?
Now, I have not officially retired, I do not yet receive my pensions (government or career-related). I am almost hallway through my 63rd year and less than a few years away from receiving those lifetime benefits so, in my government’s eyes, I am close to being a true “senior citizen”.
But I am not sure I feel like it.
I am indeed at the lower end of the “baby boomer” classification, a demographic I have belonged to my entire life (and totally dislike the recent negative connotations of the term “boomer”). This group has aged, grown up with me, and is commonly accepted now as “seniors”. It is a sliding scale that begins at age 55 or 60 is, in fact, the age group I am now in.
The decades have blurred one into another.
But “Golden Years”?
How can that be?
I admitted, long ago, to being middle-aged. I think that started half a lifetime ago when my father retired and joined the ranks of a senior.
But am I now what he was then?
You are what you admit.
I’m older. I have never really been accused of being mature, and since I was a kid was told, many times, to act my age.
How can I be nostalgic about my youth when, most of the time, I still feel youthful?
Is it time to accept the obvious?
I guess, if I am going to accept the seniors rate at the cinema, gladly take advantage of the discounts and special “seniors” offers from many retailers, and reduced rate on public transportation, then I must start admitting I am in fact a senior . . . or an “older adult”.
I am.
This week, perhaps at this “seniors” session, I started to believe it.
It’s a lot to think about.
This week’s session included a cooking demonstration, exercise class and a lot of discussion about living and aging. Each of the program participants are at different stages of “adulthood”. Outside of a couple of the presenters, I was, I think, the youngest person in this group of older adults (I still have difficulty writing that phrase).
That itself is thought provoking.
I am truly looking forward to retirement and have been mentally preparing myself for a couple of years. I’ve got plans and so many things I want to do at this age and stage of life. Most of my plans revolve around the sort of things that a regular work week gets in the way of.
Whether or not these are, in fact, the golden years, or that I am entering the “Autumn of my life” hasn’t really been something I’ve though a lot about.
But I am now.
When did that happen?
How long will it keep happening.?
© 2024 j.g. lewis
Each line speaks in ever-present tense, past
shadows whispering still, amidst perpetual
foresight. Memories commence for a stanza
or two, if you are prepared to listen.
© 2024 j.g. lewis
As summer fades, as they always do, I took a moment yesterday to browse through photographs I’ve made over the past few months to remind myself where I have been living.
This will be my last summer in Toronto, a city that has been home for a decade.
When I first arrived here, I began to spend many hours and days wandering the city with my camera, both as a means of familiarizing myself with this huge metropolis and also refamiliarizing myself with camera skills I had not been using as much as I should have. I was inspired by new landscapes and the sheer magnitude of the city’s size, and over the years have indulged in the street photography that was available for me.
This past summer, as I’ve been focusing more on other aspects of visual art, I did not venture out with my equipment as often as I should have. Still, I found some time to capture images of the places and people in a city that now feels like home.
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
