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.
Month: May 2023
Routinely we are focused on what is ahead.
As we continue striving to move forward, and we do or we try, we seem to be living in the shadow of what has happened or going through the motions of making it happen.
Somehow the process of progress is so ingrained in us that we fail, or fear, taking the time to simply be in the present. Instead of living in the moment, we are truthfully loosing the moment by not paying attention to where we are.
I noticed Saturday.
On the way to an appointment, and realizing I was earlier than I intended (or needed) to be, I stopped half a block away and sat for a moment to collect my thoughts.
I looked above me to the tree I was enjoying the shade of, now fully leaved in the resplendent greens of spring. A week back, if I even noticed as I walked on, the tree at the time was, like me, simply trying to get by.
I can’t recall.
I hadn’t bothered looking up or looking around.
I didn’t take the time to check in with my surroundings
It is sad really, we all seem so pointlessly busy and caught up in the process.
If we are all hoping for progress, we should at least take the time to notice.
Take a little time today to simply be.
05/15/2023 j.g.l.
Posted on May 14, 2023 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Today is a day of memories. For many of us, our mother is encased in thoughts of years gone by.
My Mother left this earth far too early, but I know she is still here for me. I realize, more a more as I grow older, that the distance between the time I had with her never grows further than a thought.
It’s funny what comes to you when you think of such a significant person. A mother gave life and guided you forward through the oncoming years. The lessons she taught, and the gentleness she personified, remain close to the heart.
A mother’s love never grows old.
Today I’m thinking, of all things, about clothing. I think, perhaps, my greatest sense of fashion is what I grew up with.
My mother regularly used to dress me in striped shirts. She called them my ‘Charlie Brown’ shirts (never once did I correct her by telling her it was Linus who always wore the stripes) and stripes in all sizes and colours defined my wardrobe for many years.
Years later, I learned that the choice of stripes was her way of distinguishing my clothes from those of my two siblings on laundry day. In our household, with three active (dare I say messy) kids, it was her way of sorting out whose was whose.
All those stripes set a pattern that continues to this day. Even now I will purchase, or I am attracted to, t-shirts with stripes.
Today I will honour beautiful thoughts of my mother by wearing a striped shirt and remembering all those colourful and long-lasting memories.
This is my way, today, of creating a Happy Mother’s Day.
I grew up listening to music. It wasn’t really a choice.
My mother always had the radio turned on, or a record on the turntable. In our home it was her soundtrack that would set the mood of the day. Often I would hear her wonderful voice singing along; she could really belt it out. She was a mother who knew that music was best played at a decent volume.
Most of the time it was the big band music of her youth, and she was especially fond of Sinatra, but Mom would continually pick up popular records of the day and keep up with the times. The copies of The Beatles Blue and Red albums, that I now own, both have her signature boldly written on the front cover as if she was staking claim to the music.
Her tastes were wide and wonderful. I enjoyed some of the sounds, others took me years (or decades) to fully appreciate.
The point is, my mother exposed me to music, encouraged me to listen, to learn, and even to perform (she actually allowed a set of drums into the house). Heck, she even bought me a few albums (of my choice) before I had a job to support my habit.
A love of music was something we shared. It is a hobby/passion/obsession that continues today, long after my mother has passed on.
Mothers do this, and not just with music. It’s your mother who will probably notice your interest in something when you were a kid. It is a mother who will encourage you to take it further. It could be dance, or drama, reading, or hockey, but chances are the hobbies you enjoyed when you were young were supported by your mother.
It really doesn’t matter what that hobby was, what mattered was that your mother gave you a chance to discover, and to explore, an interest. In that way, it did matter.
Thanks Mom, I’ve still got the music in me.
© 2018 j.g. lewis
