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
As you settle between the sheets, you mindfully prepare yourself for the deepest sleep possible. At this time, your brain is still abuzz with the doings of the day. It’s only natural to do a quick check of what you have done, or what you have to do, but don’t let the day control your mind. It is important to try and clear your head and allow it to rest with your body.
A habit for many of us, reading has become a relaxing way to unwind before sleep. Reading, by its very nature, can transport you to other places, fiction or not; it will take your mind off the reality surrounding you and move to a more restful plane.
Do what you need to do before sleep, to let the mind rest.
j.g.l.
What to wear, or dare to go bare?
After the bathing, some people may choose to sleep in the most natural state; others will dress for bed, as they do for every activity.
There is a psychological advantage in wearing pajamas or a nightgown and dressing for bed. In removing your clothing before you bathe, you strip away the demons, dogma, and detritus of the day. Following a shower or bath, after scrubbing off all the sins and sanctimonious bullshit that has stuck to your skin, you button up freshly laundered PJs, slip between the sheets, and take the first steps from daytime busy to nighttime bliss.
I’m rather fond of pajamas, most of the time, but know everybody has their own preferences. Click here to read more about Button Up Bliss
Do what is comfortable for you, but do be comfortable.
Posted on March 8, 2017 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
A sleepless summer night. No dreams to placate an unsettled mind, yet, off in the distance, there was a train.
I’m young, I know. I’ve never been anywhere, not on a train, but nowhere even seemed significant. On a train. Lying in bed. The window wide-open, curtains pulled back, allowing any available breeze to circulate through the house. My door is not closed, everyone else is asleep. There are no middle-of-the-night sounds in this little city, except the train.
Night moves, along with the train, and I with it. Each click-clack, click-clack, of the track takes me further along. I am not alone. My eyes might be open as I take in a world streaming by this place I call home. An Imagination stoked by Hardy Boys books and The Wonderful World of Disney, the swoon of the train took me places, long before I even understood the concept of romanticism. Or surrealism.
I travelled the train many times, sitting up with the conductor or hopping a freight car with an errant hobo or two. Occasionally one or two of my friends would be along for the ride as we’d move from city to town; the thrill of travel to a young boy growing up in a city surrounded by wheat and silence.
There were always trains in my dreams, in my life, and near each home in every city I have lived. Until recently. Trains, off in the distance, signaling their place in our world. In one small town the tracks ran straight down the middle. At night you would hear the whistle as the engine approached, or wake to the rumble of the house as it passed through. It never frightened me. I’ve always been comforted, or grounded, by the sounds of a train.
Was it the train stories of Jack Kerouac that pulled me into his prose, or was it reading and knowing that adventure is the foundation for any dreamer’s life?
Trains have a purpose, connecting the country, bringing people together, and moving freight from wherever to destinations unknown. In daylight I would marvel at the layers of cars rolling down the tracks, or wonder what could be contained in the big box cars, or try to make sense of the graffiti sprayed on to the surface. I still do. I still wonder where the train is going. Trains are always on the move.
A train is more than transportation to a young boy, is it more than a toy or electric trainset you would set up in the living room to bide time. A train is adventure.
Adventure is something worthy for a boy to be dreaming about. It is something that boy still does now, as a man. Endless dreams, without notice I will wake from adventures on a train. I meet people and see places. I can be places, on a train, in my dreams.
I may never get back to those faraway places, but finding a train in your dreams indicates you are on the right track of your life’s journey. I’m uncertain whether I am headed in the right direction, and there have been a few significant stops along the way, but, like the train, I continue moving forward.
What made my dreams so hollow was standing at the depot
With a steeple full of swallows that could never ring the bell
And I’ve come ten thousand miles away, not one thing to show
It was a train that took me away from here
But a train can’t bring me home
Tom Waits
Train Song
