Eyes wide open
in the dark, blood rushing, pounding heart. Still I cannot see.
Can you believe, will you find relief
walking down once-familiar streets?
Before light to the darkness of the dream, or the dawn,
or the dread,
now only streetlights. I wake. I walk, I wonder.
Halogen hum overhead, the only sound, above scorched earth
or snow-covered ground.
Only one reason for being here, everything else
is gone.

Let me sleep.
Let dreams whisper. I’ve got thoughts, which must come out,
I shouldn’t need to shout. I cannot listen.
Below a moonlight serenade, the homeless search
for shelter and sustenance, while new lover’s trade
secrets
behind the door. Promises not shared before.
Not with each other.
I wander. These were once streets, bursting with kindness.
The sidewalks, now, little more than foreign, there is no welcome here.
Not in the way it was, as I left it.

Do you take
what is there, take the care, or do you wait to lay your heart
before the soul who once listened to all you know,
and found comfort. In my voice there was enough,
yet now it is torn with edges
rough.
What was still is. Or is it? There is value in a thought.
A struggle with contempt
of dreams I might have spent, but not wisely.
There is no warmth. I will go back from where I came,
my presence will remain.
© 2016 j.g. lewis

In all the scintillating sentences, salacious sound bites, news and views published, broadcast and available 24/7, there is a lot of nonsense about who belongs where.

Much of the talk, originally (though not original) comes top-down from leaders or potential leaders of nations as they stand tall to proclaim rights and responsibilities that clearly go against the way this planet has been evolving.

In this ever-hungry news cycle the comments make headlines, grab the first seconds of the newscast, and the views proliferate and become coffee-shop talk and idle banter. Those people stuck in the past herald these tired, old bigoted views and the velocity of these harmful ideals accelerate.

Intolerance has become the catchall word towards any of the isms, but the only thing inclusionary about the word is its ability to dress down a huge swath of the population in one swift breath. It is hatred, pure and simple, occasionally wrapped in imprudent puffery or packaged in some sort of theme-based oratory proffering intelligence.

I’m growing intolerant of intolerance. Lately it is all you hear about, whether gender-based, nationality, faith, or sexual orientation. The ‘anti’ talk comes from many sources, but right now there is one particular politician trumping out divisive language devised to prop up beliefs that one race, one religion (one country) is superior to all others.

It’s posturing, yes, but it goes far deeper. It pits people against one another, even those within the same nation.

Now I wholeheartedly believe in free speech; it is what keeps us growing intellectually and allows cultures to flourish. Part of that freedom comes with the responsibility of listening, learning, and even accepting or acknowledging the viewpoints of others. Freedom of speech does involve speaking one’s mind, but the words, phrases and diatribes need to be mindful. Even when hurtful, thoughts spoken should be founded in research and reason and not simply used to perpetuate stereotypes.

Where free speech is concerned, a well-formed argument is acceptable, even applauded. But there is little room for acceptance in any form of intolerance. Free speech comes from open minds. All the hate speech currently being bandied about promotes violence, elitism, and a shameful ideal that denigrates entire nations at a time when borders between countries are being eliminated (at least where trade and commerce is concerned).

Yes, sadly, history contains many, many examples of how opposing beings are, and have been, responsible for epic conflicts. There are currently evil powers at work in this world focused on mass destruction and devastation. But if we are to be hopeful we must look beyond these vengeful and revengeful acts and try to salvage our humanity. The trade between nations must be more than monetary.

If we allow this unruly and uncaring behavior to repeat itself — if we allow this ever-enlarging global community to be ruled by closed minds — we are certain to not only repeat history’s past mistakes, but also deal with consequences we cannot even fathom.
Now I may be a dreamer, yes, but if people put as much effort into understanding as they do into standing their ground we may find ourselves in a position of truly being able to work out age-old conflicts.

Yes I dream big, but life is too short, and the planet too small to categorize and sub-divide the population in an effort to keep out anyone who does not look, sound, or hold the same beliefs we hold.

We live in an era of multiculturalism and mixed race. North America was, and continues to be, built on immigration. As we grow physically in size and spiritually by understanding, and as the population expands, as cultures blend and races and religions cohabitate, we must look favorably on this opportunity to grow as human beings.

We cannot paint everybody with the same brush; we can’t systematically decide who is right, or moral, or worthy, based on the hue of the skin, gender, sexual preference, language spoken, country of origin, or beliefs believed. By blindly discounting a certain population you are overlooking the opportunity to become involved with, influenced and inspired by, and more knowledgeable in the process.

It is unreal, unconscionable, and unacceptable to allow intolerance and this type of deterioration to continue. This is not about race. This is about disgrace.

A proverbial line in the sand, twists and bends
a rubber band, ideals and morals
stretching and straining
until it snaps.
You, there now, wondering
what to accept.
Everything you hope, along with
anything you don’t
blurred.
No tears, not that you will admit, still
the vision is not clear. Where you are,
what can you see?
It can only be
uncertainty.

Within our dead wisdom and cluttered minds
boundaries are defined, so we can know
who to allow
into our lives,
or how far we will let them go
before we say no.
Always within the shadow of the question,
exorbitant explanations
were true before,
but now?
Was it not evermore? What we don’t see
cannot hurt us, still the pain resonates.
It can.
And will.

Have you forsaken those with a powerful presence
for fear you will be crushed? Are you not
strong enough?
You won’t know until you try.
Do you compromise your self
for a quick rush, to see how it feels, Did
did you like where
it touched? A temporary crutch?
Promises may have been illusions,
or may have been true.
Grieving dreams,
you second-guess the honesty,
a reply to which
you won’t believe.

Is darkness looming at the door, or
is it light? It’s been there before,
and the vices chosen
to medicate
and the thoughts once used to meditate
don’t take away what is there.
You look both ways, crossing
a road travelled many times before.
Will you open up the sturdy door?
Or question how you will, or did,
or can
have the courage to ask. With
more trials than tasks,
what will you accept?
© 2016 j.g. lewis

It is a thought-provoking question, and one often asked of others (and ourselves). What would you do if you won a million dollars? Or more?

It’s a question asked each week as I buy a lottery ticket. Actually I purchase several lottery tickets as part of little group at the office. Every week we pony up and buy a number of tickets for Friday’s big jackpot. We each chip in the equivalent of a half a ticket. It doesn’t seem like a lot of cash, but together it is more. It’s like anything else you do as a group; it has a greater impact (at least we hope).

As everybody puts their money on the table, there is always a wishful smile, and each of us utters one of those hopeful phrases like ‘maybe this time’, ‘cross your fingers’, ‘good luck to us, and of course the big ‘what if?’

We all know the chances are slim. The odds of winning a lottery are stacked against you.
Canadian statistics indicate the odds of winning are about one in 14 million. The odds of winning at least $15 million in the particular lottery we play are one in 28,633,528. And the chances decrease when the number of tickets sold increases. In the United States, where this week’s Powerball jackpot is an estimated $1.5 billion, the odds are one in 292 million. It’s not only astounding; it is somewhat humiliating to even think you, as an individual or small group, have any chance at all.

Technically, or realistically, the odds of us winning this week’s $50-million jackpot are unrealistically high — well past the odds of being killed by lightening or dying of flesh-eating disease — at more than one in 86,000,000.

That’s a lot of zeros, a whole lot of unlikely.

Still we try. It’s only three bucks, the price of a good latte or shot of mediocre whiskey. It’s worth that to us, individually and as a group, because pooling a few of our modest shekels, utilizing our communal power of positive thinking, gives us a chance to dream, albeit remotely, on the personal impact of a life-altering amount of money.

Somebody has to win all that cash, and maybe the stars will align just enough to let it be us. We’ve won a driblet or two along the way, some free tickets, and those $2, $5 or $10 prizes that come with having a few of the lucky numbers, but those winnings are ploughed back into tickets on the next week’s draw. We do it proudly, or with heightened optimism, like the prize money is somehow blessed. It does, incrementally, increase our chances, so even at those odds there is more hope.

Hope seems hard to come by, at times, in this uncertain economy. If a few bucks is going to buy me a little hope for the week, I’ll go without something like a muffin or magazine in favor of gaining something else. Even if it is just a little more hope.

After all, there is no point in hoping if you don’t buy into it. Like the lottery advertising says: You can’t win if you don’t play.

Do you ever think about the things you do everyday? Those things you don’t think about, you know, you just do them. Those things.

The eating, sleeping, the way you wash your face each night, the direction and path you follow when you shave, how you tie your shoes, or which leg of the pants you put on first. The method of brewing your coffee, or how you take tea, that glass of wine at just about nine, the manner in which you butter your toast. The route you drive to work, or the fashion in which you iron your shirt; there are certain things you do because you’ve always done them that way. It becomes routine.

We are all creatures of habit. The things we do, and the way we do them, are how we function; it is our way of making it through the day. Habits are the things we, unconsciously, live our lives around. What you do every day influences how you do each day.

I have many habits (we all do); some are good, and others, perhaps, not so much. Still these habits become ingrained in the psyche. These behaviors, at one time, were learned. Now they are just lived. Some of the habits even form our personality. People know us, or know how we are, because of the things we constantly and continually do.

Whether or not we realize it, we are continually picking and choosing habits as we continue on this journey called life. People we encounter, those who grow to be more than a passing occurrence, will often cause us to rethink or adapt our patterns and protocol as we adjust. A change of workplaces, or move to a new city, the loss of a family member, or distance from others will find us recalibrating our existence. Along the way we pick up, or drop, habits. Some people are habit-forming, maybe even yourself.

Habits are formed easily — many times we don’t even realize it — and can take as few as seven days to become part of our process. The longer you do them, the more they become habitual. Studies have shown it takes an average of 66 days for a practice to firmly take hold. It’s all about conditioning, the brain transforming actions and behaviors, and the sequence of movements required, into habits. In little time we undertake the tasks without even thinking.

Still we try to think, or we try to adapt habits that may make our lives easier. We look at others and try to take on what we assume to be habits that will make our lives better. Who hasn’t read and tried to adapt The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People (or any of those popular self-help books) into their lifestyle at one time or another? Who is still trying?

We think more about adopting new habits this time of the year. We make resolutions to exercise more, eat less, or become bolder, or stronger. Early in this new year, we are all trying to foster new approaches, add new dimensions to our lives, or trying to rid, or escape from patterns or people that have not served us well. It’s a part of our evolution to try and change, always for the better. Ridding yourself of an old habit can be harder than adapting a new one, but still we try.

If, for no other reason, the adaptation of a new approach or undertaking is a way of adding excitement to, or breaking up the monotony of, our lives. Trying something different doesn’t necessarily mean trying something new. You might choose to write in your journal at a different time, or move your yoga class to another time of day. You might even try a new yoga style or studio. Perhaps you’ll rearrange the furniture and move the reading chair a little closer to the window. Maybe it’s eliminating that one thing from your diet that has been giving you grief.

Trying something different, and shaking things up a little, might just be the right habit to get into. It may only take seven days, but it might also last a lifetime. If nothing else, it is a way to break up your routine and, by now, we should all know the difference between a routine and a rut.

“The secret of change is to focus not on fighting the old, but on building the new.”
                                                                                                                                – Socrates

I’ve been writing on this website, posting something every damn day, for a year now.
It has become a habit. Thank you for taking the time to read what you can, when you can.

                                                                                                                                                            -j-