Each street has a function, a name, and familiarity
to someone. Not merely a destination, but a place on which lives
are lived. More than lines on a map indicating territory, a street
defines a place. Vehicles drive and humans wander, tripping through
what others leave behind. Cigarette butts, empty bottles, and dog shit
reminders that we are not alone on this path. The human race,
not without a whisper or trace of humanity.

Traffic patterns become the regularity marking our time,
coming and going on the same street, the same route, the pedestrian
nature of what we do, and how we live. We travel with frequency
along indistinguishable streets to get done what we need to, and enjoy it
as we can. Little happens at night, silence stretching to fill the space as
taxicabs and cowards leave little light behind. You can’t imagine streets
not being there, yet man and beast travelled before they existed.

Fate or destiny, missed turns along the way. Calm or cold,
you decide if it is late, or early, when you arrive. Even rush hour moves
forward. Lanes merge and we struggle with speed and direction.
Congestion on major arteries, blood pressure measured with the click of
the turn signal. We come to dislike traffic and our place in it. There is
no point between A and B, frustrations articulated by the contrast. We each
have an address and every street takes somebody home.

© 2016 j.g. lewis

 

COVID-19.
   We know what we know, can’t make much sense of what we don’t understand, and find it difficult to keep up with all the shifting information that flows our way.
   Some of it is true; a lot of it is nonsense.
   We only know what we want to know, and we tire of the ebb and flow of statistics.
   The numbers are going up. Again.
   Pandemic fatigue.
   Second wave, third wave, fourth wave, fifth; where are we now?
   Confused?
   Twenty-one months in, do we really know?
   Did we think it would take this long?
   And, now there is a new variant with both its danger and its doubt.
   How are we to know?
   What is safe?
   What is normal? What is right?
   First shot, second shot, three shots; will we need more? In Canada, the first vaccine was injected one year ago. Since then, millions and millions of people have been vaccinated.
   We have become accustomed to our habitual mask.
   We still wash our hands diligently and sanitize when we can. We know we must.
   We move cautiously, but freely, but only to an extent. We don’t know when it will get better and realize it might get worse.
   This is where we are today.
   What about tomorrow?

Your whisper fair warns us, yet still
we are surprised. The calendar’s last page,
and we are left feeling more. Always.
Winter: a beginning comes near the end,
while the end craves new beginnings.
The longest season, physically, or
spiritually. Consistency, year over year,
over year, from one into the next.
Cold, as it is darker. Light is appreciated,
and necessary. We grow up knowing,
the facts of this season. Always,
our lives marked by winter.
Time, and years, have become forgotten,
but we are reminded. The soil
and silence, frozen. Our insular existence,
non-secular pain, wind-chafed emotions,
a reminder again. We desire
a warm touch; December, January or
otherwise. Hope, as with autumn’s last leaf,
dangling in a greater stillness.
A confessional. Always. Dormancy
until early spring, what we allow or when
we embrace. Silence. Darkness.
We need not be surprised.
Impulse knows. We have been here before.

©2017 j.g. lewis

A day never goes by without judgment.

    Honestly.

                 Responsibility denied,

                 so who is to blame?

No matter.
No reason.
No accountability, no name,

                 who is to say?

             How are you to know?

Self-doubt.
Self-sufficient

       or selfish.

Any way you look at it.

                       It’s him.

Apathy or fear?

    Look in the mirror.

    Look deeper.

What do you doubt?    Who?

 

@ 2021 j.g. lewis

We are entering the season of giving and, with that, increased annual charitable appeals.

Wherever we are, in all directions, we can look around our communities and see the obvious needs, in so many forms. Society is best measured in how we care for those who cannot care for themselves, and we respond with our time or money.

It is both admirable and appreciated how we give and to which causes, organizations and issues. A contribution is the match that lights a candle and allows hope to burn and radiate. Enjoy the glow. Feel the warmth. Share the light.

I’m humbled to say I give when I can, consistently. I give selflessly and without expectation. It is a value I treasure; a practice I learned and saw demonstrated by my parents. We were fortunate. I was fortunate to have learned this lesson early in life.

Charity. Empathy. Dignity. Respect.

I’ve taken on causes, supported groups and issues, and have seen the results of my giving. I have appreciated being part of a group whom, many times, I had little in common with except we all saw the worth in giving our time or money. That was my reward; seeing some results.

Charity is a wonderful thing.

I was recently notified of the launch of an annual corporate giving campaign I have belonged to for years. We all know a large workforce can raise a great deal of money, very quickly, through focused application. It is a good thing to give as a group.

But what happens when a campaign begins to seem less about giving and supporting a community, and more about promotion of a corporate entity and the benefits it provides within that community?

The emphasis is less about the good it does, and more about being good for business.

A corporation and its attempts to foster giving, to encourage philanthropy, is to be respected.

Charity is a good thing, but the moment it turns into a “look at me” or “look at us” initiative, the lustre is scratched off the patina. Charity should be felt, acknowledged, and furthered, yet a certain value is lost when an initiative or endeavor becomes boastful.

The expectation of recognition, even gratitude, for a donation negates the true purpose of charity. True charity is anonymous.

Silent charity is self-sustaining. It does not require promotion, endless reminders, or pressure. It is organic; both giver and receiver benefit. Charity is a personal thing.

Personally, I can’t support an appeal where the larger focus is on something less than the act of helping fellow human beings. When a charitable act becomes a number, sum, or price tag, the humanity is removed from the equation.

I don’t expect anything from a donation, other than feeling or knowing my contribution helps further a cause or group I believe in. I will contribute to give in my own silent way, each year contributing a little more than the year before, and I will do it directly. I simply, morally, or comfortably cannot support something that makes the giver a bigger focus than the giving.

I encourage you to look at where your charity flows.

Give. Oh yes, give; consciously; as generously as you are able, and as humanely as possible. Enjoy the spirit of giving, and enjoy it selflessly.

© 2018 j.g. lewis

“I have found that among its other benefits, giving liberates the soul of the giver.”                                                                              -Maya Angelou