A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking.
They may get you thinking too . . .
Pick up what’s left of the shadow that has been trailing you for a week or three, the one you have noticed even when the sun hasn’t been shining as it should.
Of course there have been distractions (there always is), even as your nerves are beginning to fray, and all those anxieties still follow you, surprisingly so, on any old day.
Intermittent rain washes away hopes and plans dreamed on and diminished now. Still, you have the time and, more importantly, you have the mind to make it all happen.You’ve got something more important to say.
Poetry is power, and poetry is a weakness, as much cowardice as courage. A delightful contradiction, it sucks at your soul, and, like a fussy infant, cannot wait to be fed. More. Not to be silenced until sated. Nourished then, it so slips into gentle slumber, life’s rhythm allowing dreams and sweet solace, only to wake soiled and screaming. Comfort comes with a soothing voice, gentle touch, and reassurance. Flesh and blood, innocent for only a while, it grows alongside you, until it stands on its own. Poetry. You give it life, then it to you.
The death toll rises each day in this certain uncertainty. A geopolitical conflict, its consequences spilling out across this planet and onto the streets of my city. Distanced from the direct atrocities of another war, it is more than tension we feel in the neighborhoods where we live.
Every day the headlines speak to me. Every day there are more questions than answers.
How many bombs?
How many dead?
How many prayers?
How many times, in my lifetime, have I heard about the possibility of Middle East peace?
I, still, can only try to understand.
I too live with the fear, the grief, and the polarization of it all.
10/07/2024 j.g.l.
Related
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.
Follow on social media
Keep in touch
Enter your email to receive notification of significant posts. Don't worry, I won't clog up your inbox or sell your data
No time for a summer friend No time for the love you send Seasons change and so did I You need not wonder why You need not wonder why There’s no time left for you No time left for you
No Time Bachman/CummingsThe Guess Who
Every year, about this time, this song plays in my head. Every year. It comes with the season, autumn, when change happens quickly. A couple of cool nights, and the world is awash with colour. It’s short lived, and though the season may last a while, all the vibrancy of life we have enjoyed over the past months seems to run out. The rain becomes cooler, the winds become harsh, and the world becomes grey and vacant. Seasons change, and so did I. I was about 10 years old when I first heard this song. At that time The Guess Who were big, not just by Canadian standards, but on a worldwide scale. They were bigger than a bunch of Winnipeg boys could ever have imagined. I grew up about two hours down the highway from Winnipeg, and we heard a lot of the band’s ‘Wheatfield Soul’ on the radio while growing up. I had the records. Seasons change and so did I. I am still growing up. The song keeps playing, melodic, timeless, and real. No Time is just one of the many hits from the songwriting duo of Randy Bachman and Burton Cummings, and it might not even be my favorite song from the group, but it is the one that comes to me year after year. The lyrics hit me, in this season, more than any other time, and they hit me in a different way, every year, as I grow older. There are few songs (from this band, or otherwise) that can do this, this consistently, after more than four decades. Seasons change and so did I. I have. I continue to change, each season, every year. It is songs like this that remind us of the seasons of our lives, and how we have changed, how our lives are altered, and how, surely, we will continue to change. You need not wonder why. j.g.l.
