What is it now that has you questioning the why and how?
We can, and we should, question our thoughts or plans, even our direction. It is only natural to wonder if our path is moving the right way, or if we should be choosing some other route.
There is a lot to absorb along the way, there always was. Do we pay enough attention now, or did we ever? What have we ignored or looked over?
What didn’t we see?
What needs to be revisited?
We can’t always take it in stride.
10/28/2024 j.g.l.
You catch yourself wanting to say,
to ask, to cry out for help, for attention
or for effect. Even if only to see
if anybody is listening. Yet you don’t.
Anger ignites, anxiety rages, and the
consequences of a handful of
wholly conscious decisions scorch
the fragility of the present. It matters
not what tinder was sacrificed
to the flame, for now it is ash. Now
useless. Consumed. There is nothing
else left. You know, deep down,
what matters is what you ask, or say,
to the one person who has always
been there. See yourself. Be yourself.
© 2016 j.g. lewis
I went out for a walk yesterday afternoon in only my shirtsleeves. The weather of late has been unseasonably mild with decent daily temperatures stretching out over the past week. Yesterday, apparently, was to be the last of it and I was not about to ignore the delightful weather.
It truly hasn’t felt like autumn yet.
Most of the trees in the parks remain a luscious green. There have been few chilly mornings. I keep waiting for the vibrant colours I enjoy each fall. I haven’t yet been inspired to take out my camera to capture the season before we see only the dismal greys of winter.
I eventually settled in at a favorite park, took out my sketchbook and pastels and enjoyed time to myself. St. James Park, over the years, has become a comforting place with the shock of tulips that bloom each spring, its well-maintained flower beds through the summer months, the fountain that doubles as a bird bath, and all the tall respectable trees. Often, I will visit the park and sit with a cup of coffee or become engaged with my camera or sketchbook. Yesterday, unplanned as it was, turned into one of those days.
I did a little thinking about where I am, at times reflecting on the summer that was (and wasn’t). I continue to acknowledge that the relocation I plan with has not yet taken place. My mind has been filled this year with expectations of a move back to a city that brings me familial and familiar comfort. The timeline, now, is not what it was at the beginning of the year, and it looks less and less likely that I will end the year in the place I want to be. There is so much uncertainty right now, but not my resolve to get out of the crowded city I have come to know for, essentially, a decade.
I have become content here, but it does not feel like home.
After a while, yesterday, with the sun occasionally shedding its light I realized I was no longer sketching. I was only sitting and thinking and slowly becoming aware of the sounds that surrounded me. For the longest time I had been oblivious to the continual din of downtown traffic.
It might have been the sound of leaves changing colour that alerted me, or the slight gusts of wind that disturbed the trees and sent the foliage falling to the sidewalk. It was the moment I realized that autumn had finally arrived.
I am still here.
10/24/2024 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.
If you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always had.
We are all overly-familiar with this all-too-familiar adage. As humans, more than anything else, we are creatures of habit, so it seems that doing things the same old way is how we survive the day.
As we sort through personal problems, perennial predicaments, unexpected uncertainties, or unwritten questions with indecipherable answers, we keep looking for the correct result, the right solution, or a different outcome.
What has worked well in the past may not work as it once did. Disappointingly so, we know we need more. It could be addressing a strategy for the office, mastering a specialized skill, polishing a manuscript, or realigning our fitness routine to meet expectations or soothe our aspirations.
To get a different result, we need to look for what is not there by stepping away from the current thought process. At one time it was cleverly called ‘thinking outside the box’, but now it is simply an overused cliché. Everybody is now avoiding the ‘box’, so we need to go to a different place.
We need to begin thinking outside the thought.
In this digital age of instant, all too often, we end up clicking through any of the available search engines for answers. That, itself, has limits. Too many times, too many answers are all the same. Our reliance on contemporary technologies tends to confuse, dumb down our spirit (or curiosity), and lead us to programed or predestined results.
The answers are not always on Google.
Maybe, without even thinking about it, we are trying too hard. Stop that. Think a little less. perhaps the answer is right there; or there; or under there.
An original answer is not easy, that you know. It never has been. In fact, you know you can’t take the easy route. You’ve done that, time and again, and rarely does it provide effective results. Think, indeed, but think differently.
Look closer. At times the obvious solution is the most difficult to see.
Of course, solutions to what seems to be impossible and improbable cannot be guaranteed. Most times the only sure way of knowing is trial and error. You don’t know until you try, and you need to try and think from obscure angles, or with a different perspective.
What you end up with might not yield the correct result; it may not even be a reasonable facsimile. Hell, it might be the most miserable attempt at something you’ve ever had. But that’s good, because you’ve done it like you’ve never done before.
An original solution, how unique. Aren’t there already too many boxes?
© 2017 j.g. lewis
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.