The answers are far less certain
than even last week, to all those
perennial questions or solutions
you might seek.
What do you believe, or
what do you believe in?
Come Monday, you have fewer
questions than you had last week.
For a while there are less doubts
in what you believe.
Whom do you believe in,
and who believes in you?
11/18/2024 j.g.l.
We want to know what
we don’t know, or hadn’t thought of,
or forgot.
What mattered then,
or what mattered when, shifts over time.
We notice.
Perception is what you don’t see.
Deception is what know.
You see it differently through your aloneness.
The truth behind a lie,
you question how and why.
It made sense.
Anticipation keeps us waiting
for only so long. Will it matter
if you felt it never did?
© 2021 j.g. lewis
Slow down: even with the ideas that come to quicky. Take the time to acknowledge the feelings that arrive, as they arrive.
Write it down. How else will you remember what you were thinking?
Print neatly. You hardly understand the thoughts at the time, why make it more difficult to comprehend weeks or years from now?
Follow your own logic; only you need to truly make sense of what is happening, or all that has happened.
Pay attention to the lessons of the past. Be mindful that not all are worth repeating.
Clarity. Make corrections as you go. Flaws become more difficult to correct the longer you live with them.
11/14/2024 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.
I keep my skateboard in the trunk of my car. It doesn’t take up much space.
When I moved to Toronto, my car was packed with everything I believed I needed:clothing, cameras, records, a computer, and my art.
Somehow I found room for my skateboard.
I haven’t used it a lot lately. I did take it out one day after work, after the multi-level parkade had been power washed. Something told me it was time to ride.
Before that, the biggest ride was outside of Thunder Bay on my way to Toronto. The road leading up to the Terry Fox memorial statue had just been repaved. I couldn’t help myself, and pulled out the board and cruised down the switchbacks.
It was exhilarating!
There was nobody around, it was early, and so I climbed the steps and did it again, and again, a little more daring each time. It all came back to me.
My skateboard rests in the trunk of the car, it is there to be used, but doesn’t have to be used all the time (but it can be).
The skateboard reminds me of what I can do if I want, when I want.
Just because you don’t do something doesn’t mean you can’t. There are some things you know that just can’t be unknown (I think I have learned that the hard way).
The skateboard reminds me that every once in awhile you should do something to get your blood pumping again. It’s not that I want to relive my youth as much as to be reminded I am still young.
07/17/2017 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.