original content and images ©j.g. lewis
a daily breath...
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 . . .
Gentle thoughts, harshly
written on whatever
scrap of paper available.
This is your life.
This is an attempt to
make sense or make do
with the scattered bits of
information that float
to the surface of a
What is of one’s concern
need not translate into a
narrative easily understood
by others. You may not
fully comprehend its true
meaning yourself, at least
not in one sitting.
Give yourself the time.
You need to find the clarity
you need. A daunting task…
you need not ask for any
opinions from others, Each
of us sees things differently.
Today I sit with a stack of blank holiday cards in front of me, and a dog-eared address book full of names, phone numbers and/or addresses from across the globe.
The names are familiar, and the extent to which I know each person varies in time and in depth. Yet, with each name, there is a friendship shared but not acknowledged as often as it should be.
A Christmas card allows me an opportunity. I will write messages of varying length to the people on my list to acknowledge the season as well as the person.
The true meaning of friendship goes beyond words.
I'm like a pencil;
Still I write.
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
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logical and chronological
A new pair of shoes last week, I went out looking for something sort of casual, kind of sneaker-ish, but not. I’ll need a new pair of kicks for summer, but will wait until the weather more closely resembles the season before I step out for a new pair of Vans.
I wanted something comfortable, and my eyes settled quickly on a pair of dessert boots. This was the kind of comfort I have known before.
Dessert Boots; it’s probably the fifth or sixth pair I’ve owned in my lifetime. I know I had a pair in Grade 11, and another pair in Grade 8, and who knows how many pairs my mother bought my in my younger days?
I was about 7 when I got my first wore them. I know my brother got a pair too. I think The Monkees wore them; thus they were good enough for me. It was about this age I also began my lifetime love of paisley shirts.
The ankle-high boots (presumably tall enough to keep sand out as you trekked across desserts) were supremely comfortable, tan-coloured, sort of suede, crepe soles, and close to indestructible. Kids are hard on their shoes with all that biking and running around, exploring, everywhere in all conditions. I’m sure I would have grown out of the early pairs before they had fully worn out.
My mother always told me to buy quality shoes. She said they were better for your feet, that they would last longer, and it was important, especially with shoes, because you spent so much time on them.
I think her words run through my head each time I am trying on shoes as I choose function over fashion.
I know I heard her this time, as I purchased a style that she had once chosen for me. They must be sensible shoes.
And the comfort comes from some of those brief memories that flash through my life on a regular basis. Beyond the shoes, this is the kind of comfort I have truly known before.