Month: January 2019

Posted on January 22, 2019 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

By Stormy Peterson

A fresh, new year is finally upon us! 
  I know a lot of us have spent the dwindling days of the previous year ruminating on our lives and loves, or even love-lives (for some); we take stock of where we are, and look ahead with hopeful eyes.
  We remain hopeful that this year will be better than the last, hopeful that we’ve learned the lessons we were supposed to learn, and hopeful we’ll be strong enough to face whatever comes. It’s a time for intentions, and a time to let our day-dreaming hearts run wild across three hundred sixty-five empty spaces longing for the color of life to be splashed across them. 
  But more than organizing the year ahead, and making resolutions we’ll break by mid-January, it’s the perfect time to recognize that where we are at any given moment, isn’t actually a place where we are forced to stay.

 The truth about nature is that it’s much more fluid than we’re often conditioned to believe, and as disconnected as we may think we’ve become, we can’t ever truly be apart from it. Therefore, our lives, our understanding; how we relate to ourselves and one another, and all things human are also a lot less rigid than we have managed to convince ourselves. 
  And so it is, we’re never absolutely stuck anywhere. I don’t mean physically. . . of course, there can be circumstances beyond our control in the material world that limit the action some people would prefer to take, and it reeks of ableism to pretend otherwise. 
  No, I’m talking stuck in one attitude, stuck in unhealthy relationships, stuck at a soul-crushing job, stuck with a cramped perspective; that kind of stuck (the one that doesn’t necessarily depend on a person’s geography). A lot of these things can feel pretty permanent at one time or another, and frankly, we’re met with enough well-intended adages, and mixed messages that make it seem that way, but it doesn’t have to be so. 
  And, just like in nature, a little nudge can significantly improve your immediate circumstances. 
  Rainstorms are natural, but you don’t have to stand there getting drenched when nearby there’s a massive tree to duck under, or a welcoming cave to shelter you. Those options are both “natural” as well, but it takes a little bit of work (albeit, minimal effort) to connect the dots, consider the benefits, and act on it. 
  There is nothing enlightened about sitting around waiting for divine intervention to fix things that we are more than capable of handling on our own, yet we let ourselves get so insecure about the decisions we make, we allow ourselves to lose touch with our true essence.
  We can easily find ourselves trudging along in these unfulfilling, shallow existences so completely preoccupied with the wrong things that we are, oftentimes, clueless as to how we even got here in the first place.  What’s especially sad is that, even though it’s conceivably wholly temporary, this lack of depth pervades every aspect of our lives.
  Author Matt Kahn tells us, “Despite how open, peaceful, and loving you attempt to be, people can only meet you, as deeply as they’ve met themselves.”  That’s how folks are meeting you, that’s how you’re meeting them, and it’s how all of us are showing up and greeting the world.  It’s all a choice, however, we can decide at any moment if we’re splashing around in the paddling pool, to take a lesson, get stronger, and move to the deep end. 
  Perhaps you slide in as effortlessly glamorous as Esther Williams, but if you don’t, there’s no shame in needing a life vest, water wings, goggles, or a nose plug, and it’s not important if you arrive flailing, and sputtering, the point is that you’re willing to do the work. 
  You may, indeed, lose touch with those who prefer stomping aimlessly through mud puddles, but you’ll find yourself swimming toward the person you’re meant to be, engulfed in purpose, and creating ripples that affect everyone around you.

© 2019 Stormy Peterson

Stormy Peterson is a fine artist cultivated in the foothills of the Olympic Peninsula, believer of Bigfoot with a background in apparel and textiles merchandising, and design.  Visit The Longshoreman’s Daughter herself, at http://stormaculus.blogspot.com/

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Posted on January 21, 2019 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment

I watched the glorious lunar eclipse last night; a Super Moon, a Blood Moon, and a Wolf Moon, all rolled into one.
The sky was clear, it was late, but temperatures had dipped past the frigidly-uncomfortable level (-33 wind-chill in Toronto). So I sat, all bundled up, in my car and I just watched.
I didn’t, as I often do, fasten the longest lens onto my camera and take multiple frames and progressive shots as the big bright sphere was dimmed.
I just watched.
I was warm in the car. I played Mahler (his 5th), and I watched this celestial spectacle unfold in front of me.
Without interruption.
It was a pleasure.
All I did was watch.
All too frequently we spend too much time trying to capture an event with our camera or cell phone. We fuss with our tripod (I know I do), concentrate on composition and exposure, and try and catch the perfect shot. So intent we are on recording the proceedings, that we may actually miss out on something just as it happens.
Our focus is on capturing the event instead of seeing it for all that it is.
We second guess our memory. We believe we need evidence to bolster our recollection.
We don’t remember we don’t always have our cameras with us when monumental moments occur. Somehow we still remember a child’s first steps, grandmother’s subtle gesture, a lover’s smile, or your favourite band playing your favourite song at your first concert.
Epic events happen whether you have your camera out, or not.
I chose, last night, not to bother trying to record the moment. Instead I chose to watch, and listen to a powerful score.
Mahler’s work was maturing at this point of his career, and his intention for the 5th was ‘a song without words’. The textures and tonality of this story flowed through the darkening sphere. The Adagietto provided an appropriate calm as the coppery hues enveloped the Moon.
I sat spellbound.
I can’t remember sitting this still, for this long, staring up at the Moon.
The symphony ended with a full orchestra crescendo just as the top rim of the Moon was about to be swallowed up.
I got out of the car, stood, and watched for a moment as the eclipse was fully formed.
I reveled in the magnificence I had just witnessed.
I, then, climbed back into the car’s comfort.
I sat in silence and I watched.
I just watched.
And I will remember.

01/21/2019                                                      j.g.l.

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Posted on January 20, 2019 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment

If I were organized, or if I were to try and become organized, I would bookend my ever-expanding poetry collection with Mary Oliver and Billy Collins.
  Each poet, each of them American (coincidently), represents dedication to the craft of poetry.
  Both poets present captivating, assessable, relevant words that confront and comfort life in a manner we can all understand.
  Few poets can consistently capture a range of emotion without overstepping the bounds.
  Oliver died this week from lymphoma. There was an immediate sadness felt world-wide, and expressed so openly on social and traditional media, in coffee shops and bookstores.
  The Pulitzer prize-winning writer was, indeed, among my favorites, and will remain such. She now becomes one of those dead poets we will read a little deeper as she has gone from reminding us of the times we live in, to being a reminder.
  There is history in poetry, a truth and accuracy you don’t find in encyclopedias.
  Oliver’s skill was obvious and incomparable, though I can’t help but measure her words to other writers that totally capture my imagination.
  Oliver wrote poems more emotionally resplendent than Emily Dickinson, with the breadth of situation and circumstance of Dorianne Laux, though more diligently compact. Her obvious respect for nature was of the magnitude of William Wordsworth. Wordsworth wrote as he saw; Oliver, how she felt.
  Mary Oliver wrote as she lived, and she lived for us all.
  We have been blessed.

01/20/2019                                               j.g.l.