Midnight arrives. No moon, new moon, clouds buffer the sky,
shifting moods, stars align. Where did the day go? Time stands still
without the presence of people, and a sense of substance.

Questions now. We carry into consciousness a dog-eared confusion
never hoped for. The longer it goes, the less you know. You want
little more to ignore the impendent humidity of a Van Gogh night.

Young hearts will find a way
old souls still remain,
but where would you go
if you knew the difference?

Deep breath. Full stop, amidst the barren dreams, night tremors, and
flashbacks casting dispersions on emotions and moments of repose.
Unsteadied in the innocence, unmoved by a prophecy unknown.

Reach out. All, which you see, cannot always be felt. Confronted by
constraints of an ever-changing sky, a complete spectrum of wonder.
All told, there are less reasons to know than less reasons to be.

Young heart will find its way
old soul knows the pain,
now would you go there
if you knew the difference?
© 2016 j.g. lewis

There is a tree on the highway between Brandon and Winnipeg, one I have passed hundreds of times, which marks the halfway point of the journey.

Roots deep and strong, the tree has been there my whole life, surviving deep-freeze winters, occasional drought, and the widening of the highway. It is an important tree, familiar to anybody who grew up in the area. Mention “the tree” and people immediately know where you were.

The landmark helped answer the ‘how much farther’ question from a restless kid in the back of a sweltering station wagon, and came in handy on any of the bloodshot drives across the barren prairies at 4 a.m., winter or summer.

The tree is a part of me, even now, if only in memory.

It’s too bad there aren’t more trees in our lives, markers to let us know something is halfway done. Yes, we have battery meters that let us know when our laptop or personal device is running low, gas gauges in the car, and clocks and calendars, but we need more organic clues to help us navigate this journey.

Don’t we often question if the glass is half empty, or half full?

We tend to do things differently when we get onto the second half of anything.. Knowing there is only one more lap around the track, we naturally pick up the pace to put in our best performance? If we are caught up in a particularly enjoyable evening, don’t we tend to ease up a little at the halfway point, trying to stretch out the pleasure to avoid the inevitable?

There can be increased optimism if something is nearly done, or added sadness because time is expiring. If we don’t know where we are, how can we know how to react?

June is, for all intents and purposes, the halfway point of the year. By its very nature it is a wonderful month for reminding us where we have been, and what we have done, while still allowing time to look ahead at the possibilities. Summer comes with June; and color, and optimism. Longer days allow a review of the grief and glory we have experienced, and provide increased light to renew your intentions and review your values.

This month is a pulse check. How is your heart beating? What remains unfinished, what is still undone, what more can you do? How will you do it? Should you even bother? Of course there are more questions, but there is still time for answers.

I’m not sure I can kneel down before you, or
give in to your power. Not like before.
A situation such that I am unsure whom or what
I can trust, let alone myself. Still I look up.
Here I stand, pockets full of dust, starry eyes
gazing through the ozone. Toxins leech freely
into the atmosphere. Degradation of the night sky
deprives us of opportunity to see
what we once believed. You are there.
See me for what I am as I try to listen
through misaligned radio frequencies.
I cannot know where you have been.
You hide. It is your way.
My hands are not big enough
to grasp the message.
I’m not looking for the sky to save me, nor
am I waiting for the time to be right. I need
to go home now and find what is so far away.
I’ve lost my balance.
I’m losing my fear of heights.

Equality may never be, the darkness and bright
allow us only to see what we want, not what
we could have been. A level of light is expected,
my immeasurable impatience is being taunted.
However you look at it, whether you believe
in you, or believe me, this poetic justice
is all I have known. Your shadow remains
blended with the heavens. A starry night
will not dissuade your presence
in the lives you alter, or the ones you destroy.
Yet, in this moment, I know I would try again.
How could I not?
The option of a moonless night
is more of what I have been living, than how I
want to live. Between particles of unknown origin
in an ever-increasing pool of light pollution, space
junk, and refracted thought of a thousand
nameless faceless constellations,
you are still there.
I’m not looking for the sky to save me.
© 2016 j.g. lewis

It’s one of those songs that rushes through my head in times of strife, or disappointment, or when my wholly humble heart can hold no more.

Recorded in the ‘70s by Elvis Costello & The Attractions, the song title immediately rings out when the absurdity of this crazy cruel planet becomes so obvious.

“What’s so funny ‘bout peace, love and understanding.”

We have to question society, and ourselves, as we hear about the senseless tragedies occurring each and every day. Sunday’s vicious massacre is immediately top of mind; but there was Paris last fall, 9/11’s long tall shadow, and in between too many wars, school shootings, workplace massacres, and street-level attacks demonstrating how violent this world has become. And how hatred continues to spread like the disease it is.

We watch, we listen, and we grieve.

We wonder why, or how, or when it will happen again. We know it will. Sadly. Surely. In spite of all we talk about and listen to, regardless of the over-analyzed theories and reasoning, from all angles, we know it will happen again. History can, and will, dictate the future.

I hate to question if peace, love, and understanding is even possible, but I can only come up with one answer; and I have to believe it is YES. It is not an immediate YES, and sadly it’s not a resounding YES, but it is a YES one we ALL must strive for.

We must.

We all need to, individually and collectively, try more, and try harder, to understand those around us and those on the other side of the world. People are different everywhere, and differences should be celebrated, not shot down in the street or a nightclub.

There are too many questions about what is going on, and to say the solutions are peace, love, and understanding, is far too simplistic. But they are real. What else have we got? These are not Pollyanna ramblings of an unknowing man, I have seen too much to fall into that category (and I, truly, may be closer to a pessimist that an optimist). I am a realist, a humanist, a pacifist, and I’m tired of reading about hate crimes.

I’m tired of politicians and potential leaders making statements that cater more to the jealous, or uninformed, or misinformed, or imbalanced.

I’m tired of people sucking it up, and I’m tired of those who believe their right to bear arms eclipses the rights of those who only want to walk through their own lives safely.

I’m tired of bloodshed.

I’m tired of the posturing, and the lack of will, or effort, and courage to face the issues. There will be talk, and debate, over gun control, but it will fall off. It always does. But these heinous acts will continue. It will happen again.

It has become so obvious how much we need peace, love, and understanding. Right now.
If peace is to counter war, and love contrary to hate, then the opposite of understanding is ignorance, and there is far too much of that going around. Ignorance is not limited by faith, or gender, or culture or country, and it carries such destructive forces.

I can’t propose immediate solutions – I can’t even come close – but I can ask that we all think a little more, and talk a little more; about peace; about love; and about understanding.
It is, or should be, the three things we are capable of, and it is, right now, what we seem to lack most of all. But if we all took a step forward towards understanding, we might begin to see how this world could look, instead of how it is looking now.
© 2016 j.g. lewis

“(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace Love And Understanding”

As I walk on through this wicked world,
Searching for light in the darkness of insanity,
I ask myself, Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain, and hatred, and misery?

And each time I feel like this inside,
There’s one thing I wanna know,
What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding?,
What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding?

And as I walked on through troubled times,
My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes,
So where are the strong?,
And who are the trusted?,
And where is the harmony?,
Sweet harmony

‘Cause each time I feel it slipping away, just makes me wanna cry,
What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding?,
What’s so funny ’bout peace, love, and understanding?
                                                                              © 1974 Nick Lowe

It is vast, and unblemished, maybe even uninteresting, at first.
   At the beginning of the day, to the naked eye, it is nothing more than a vacant page, or space between the lines. Upon closer inspection, it is anything but.
   A page lies as open as an eye. This is my landscape. You see white space; I see themes and dreams, and possibility. The view changes, as does my mind, by the minute, moment-to-moment, year to fear, as each day becomes each day, and I am still here.
   The landscape changes, oft times like a blur through a car window. It’s like that when you travel forward. Look closely at what you see, take note of the spared indifference to what is, and what could be. This is more than my breath, voice, thoughts, leftovers or left behinds. It is more than indulgence and possessions.
   It is there for a reason.
   This is a world of secrets in a universe of sounds. It contains sins and silence, handily left for obsessive thoughts, and action. I know no discomfort, or a source for objective reasoning, so it should be as it flows, and like any great adventure you are never aware when it stops. There are no endings.
   It is not about anything, or could be about everything. It is my landscape.
   As permanent as chalked messages on a sidewalk, as indelible as DNA, there is something here than need not be understood, but it can be. And should. If you take the time, take what is mine, and read between the lines to see what might matter now to you, or me.
   This is my landscape. It may not all be personal, but it is intimate, and available. It is not a complete picture, but it is honest. It is here to entertain and inform, even advise, but take my words with a grain of fault, for there is nothing more human than a human being struggling to exist. I do both; struggle, and exist.
   This is my landscape, even when it is all mixed up. I might say some things now and then I am now only trying to comprehend, and admittedly there is naivety, as I want to learn, to know, to understand. So it goes from society’s distinct or damaged black and white to every Kodachrome colour that is, sadly, missing in this day and age. I use the past only as a reference, and not a regret; I have none; I can’t, at least not yet.
   Judge me not by my words or what I believe, take nothing for granted, if you know what I mean. Beneath all adventures, or even my stillness, is a strong inner voice. Not by purchase and not by choice. My blood boils with anger, and terror, and compassion. And love. I have a purpose, with promise, thoughts ever full of hope, evermore. Finding momentum to even my most dormant dreams I break it down again, and again.
   Again. These are my eyes.
   There is no revolution, not right now. Perhaps, maybe, there will be, for someone, somewhere else, a person to show something new about you, or your inner being. It may not be me, but keep reading, to see.
   This is my landscape. These are my dreams.
© 2016 j.g. lewis