“They won’t give peace a chance
         That was just a dream some of us had.”
                                                                               -Joni Mitchell

Today is the International Day of Peace. As declared by the United Nations General Assembly, September 21st is devoted to strengthening the ideals of peace and non-violence.

But what does this day mean when you can only look around and wonder?

What does it mean when the headlines tell the story of one conflict or another (nationally or internationally) and the first radio news of the day reports another local murder or mass shooting far away.

Peace, in so many ways, seems too ideological (if not impossible).

Peace still seems like a dream.

Peace feels intangible.

Peace is slow.

Peace is manifested person by person, one action at a time. Each incremental attempt — no matter how minuscule or muted — should strengthen our resolve to create a just, meaningful existence for each of us.

This day means what you want it to mean.

You will find peace if you want to find peace.

I believe peace will only happen if enough of us want it to happen.

I believe it can happen. Call me a dreamer.

I wish you the strength to see this through.

I wish you peace.

09/21/2022

The night is charcoal,
streetlights brighten
the never-changing colours
available at this hour.
There is a chill,
the air tastes fresh,
everywhere. Different,
especially now.
Still and silent.
The mind wanders
the same way
a teenager does
after slipping out
a basement window
at 3:43 a.m.
knowing
nothing is happening
anywhere
in this darkness,
but the freedom
tastes
like nothing else.
Find your silence.
See your freedom.

©2022 j.g. lewis

It is all the things we do, daily things,
habits, inconsequential and pointless
in so many ways. But still we do them
anyway, because we do. We don’t even
need a reason; that is the point. We do
them because it is what we do; all those
things we do. It’s what makes us human.
Funny thing; people notice. You might
even do some of those things with them,
or because of them. It is not uncommon.
Nor is it questionable as fact or as fate.
Our existence is as much our persistence.
It’s not pointless, yet the purpose is not
always clear. Each everyday experience
need not provide a lesson as it is, as it
was, as it happens. Before. Or afterwards.
Clarity. The when can be as much a why.

© 2022 j.g. lewis

When did we stop paying attention to the world around us?

A teenager cruises through an intersection on a bike, one hand on the handlebars, eyes focused only on the cell phone in his other hand. An office worker charges off an elevator and into a tray of steaming, hot coffee, her eyes never lifting from the tiny screen. A distracted businessman steps onto the crosswalk on a red light and a car with the right-of-way narrowly misses him.

I’m not surprised, but I am bewildered. When did our handhelds become the main focus of our lives?

Nobody can doubt or discount how beneficial our mobile devices have become to society. We have access to information, essentially, wherever we are. We can communicate, share photos of our pets and partners, seek advice, and get directions to wherever we are going. We can shop, do our banking, and be entertained by social media.

It is wonderful, yes.

The thing is, we are forgoing what used to be considered regular, everyday, activities and allowing our cellular phones dictate what we do, and how we do it.

We are, quite simply, spending too much time staring at our screens. I did say we because, I know, I am doing it myself.

I’m trying to cut back. I should have snapped a photo of the careless teen, but my phone was stowed away in my messenger bag; I’m making a point of putting it away when I don’t need it. I decided I was needing it too much.

I’ve sat down for lunch with coworkers and instead of talking about weekend plans, politics, sports or art, each of us was catching up on whatever was on our phone. We didn’t share what we were absorbing. We even tried to converse between bites of a sandwich or salad, but the content of our discussion was about as meaningful as most of the stuff I was catching on my newsfeed.

Do we need to take frequent breaks from real life to watch the latest nonsensical sound bite emanating from the floppy jowls of the attention-seeking politician? Or do we need to read, right now, the ramblings of an ordinary guy who believes we all spend too much time gazing at hand-sized screens?

Couldn’t it wait until later? Like maybe when you sit down for your next bowel movement?

We are missing out on what’s really happening. I have seen people miss transit stops, or walk by an intended destination, because they were too busy reading or watching something that has totally taken control of their mind.

What’s so important that you can’t take the time to walk down the street and actually look up to see the latest fashions in the windows, flowers in the park, the artwork of a fabulous tattoo, or all those smiling strangers (those who aren’t face down and blindly stepping forward) passing you by on a glorious summer day.

We haven’t simply become addicted to our devices; we are being controlled by them.

We’ve been manipulated into watching content and commercialism that algorithms have determined will be of personal interest. All social media platforms are programmed to distract you. Service providers, browsers, and platforms, are all collecting data. If you click on a travel site one day, soon you are flooded with offers, suggestions, and other destination opportunities. If you do a little online banking on your coffee break, and you’ll soon get hit with credit card offers, payday loan proposals and interest rate alerts from other financial services.

It does not stop. Each click, each time you move from site to site, little bytes of information about you and your viewing habits are being collected. We are being manipulated into looking, seeing, and buying. Our reality is being hijacked.

What are you missing out on?

p.s. This ordinary guy thanks you for reading my ramblings – I do appreciate you taking the time.

©2018 j.g. lewis