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: March 2017
We interrupt this nasty weather
to remind you Spring has arrived
in the GTA.
Yes, that is a Robin taking a break
and wondering what’s going on,
or what went wrong.
This is Canada, and that’s the
kind of day it is.
Mondays are just young Fridays.
j.g.l.
Before old and wise comes young and stupid.
I wanted to be lots of things, when I was younger. I wanted to grow up, and I had dreams and plans for what I would do when I got there.
I am fortunate to have been a few of the things I wanted to be. I made a living as a photographer, and I became a father. There were other dreams, plans, or goals that never materialized, and now they don’t matter.
I also did a lot of stupid things when I was younger, but like those old dreams and plans, they are all in the past.
You should respect the past for all that it offered, but it has passed and now offers nothing. Yes, you have nostalgia, but anything worthy made the trip forward with you.
If it were meant to be, you would be it.
If you are still looking ahead, it is how you see it.
So what you wanted to be, decades and years ago, is not the thing to want now. If we continue dreaming and hoping, and planning, it is those goals will keep us going in the right direction. What you want to be now is all that matters.
There are still plenty of things I want to be, and there are more things on my bucket list than my fuck it list, so I’m still going to try to be all I can be, but above all I’m going to try to be kind.
I’ve learned plenty of lessons in the past (and made even more mistakes), but one thing I’ve learned is that kindness counts, so it is the one goal I will continue pursuing above all else.
Now that may sound more stupid than wise, but I’m going with it. I think I’ll accomplish more. I am still a dreamer.
j.g.l.
What’s going on
in your dreams?
Posted on March 11, 2017 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
In absence of light I tried
counting raindrops,
losing tally at three thousand, two
hundred and thirty-seven, or
forty
or so.
I was not counting them all; only
the loudest, the ones
I thought hurt the most.
The others, I am convinced
there were many, fell
silently, normally,
naturally.
Gravity.
I tire of counting.
Why
do we keep track
of things
that cause
pain?
©2014 j.g. lewis
