How do we choose to travel?
What is reliable in the rain?
What is our ultimate destination,
for this time, this journey, or
this day?
We move at the speed of life.
Depending on traffic, others
may chose to follow your path,
but not your direction.
© 2021 j.g. lewis
A little cold, little wet,
a little tired and yet
I am here. Still,
full of wonder.
The morning chill leaves
little to the imagination
and much less
to hope for.
Expected, perhaps, as it
always is, this time, this
season is only what
we ask of it.
11/21/2024 j.g.l.
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.
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.
Last Friday, the weather warmer than we deserve, I jumped on my bike and rode down to the lakeshore.
A November bike ride is rare.
It felt more like September, or August. I took my paint box with me.
During August I’d been making this same trip weekly.
I’d ride down to the lakeshore to paint. It was part of my August Art Immersion, and my ‘non-judgmental paint sessions’ were part of simply returning, or respecting (or rediscovering) creativity.
In August, this pandemic was weighing heavily (as it is now) and I needed to do something to break or disrupt the dysthymia I’d been feeling. Each day in August I immersed myself in something artistic.
Last Friday, it felt good to go back to the lakeshore, and to painting.
It doesn’t matter what I paint — even though the tree directly ahead of me was the same tree I visited in August — it matters only that I paint.
I can’t be critical of what appears on the page because that defies the object of the process, or the object of painting… or of art
It must just be there.
Yes, I always seek to improve, but on ‘non-judgmental’ painting days I am looking only to improve my mood.
It is what it is.
I am what I am.
Art reminds me.
11/09/2020 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.