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
It’s touching how the music of your past will cause you to wonder, or create newfound feelings.
I’ve been playing a lot of old vinyl lately, at random, for no other reason than to fill the silence with worthwhile noise. Nostalgia seems to have crept in.
Yesterday morning I played Hold On by Dan Hill, a popular Canadian folksinger/songwriter in the mid-70s. The album’s title track was, then, a big hit with its massive background choir, epic arrangement, and inspiring lyrics.
I enjoyed the song, then, in the ‘70s.
I was more touched by it yesterday, more than I was then. What I remember.
The words spoke to me differently, or they seemed to have a purpose I did not or would not have been able to comprehend then, in the ‘70s.
Still they affected me. Then.
And they did yesterday.
I don’t previously remember the lump in my throat, or my eyes welling up because the lyrics took on a new meaning. The words showed themselves as they hadn’t before, not as a teenager could imagine. Like, previously, it was conceptual, and I did not know how to read between the lines.
I believe good songs, strong music, or poetry and great literature will resonate with you dependent upon age, circumstance, or where you are in life geographically or mentally.
At times, art will take you back to remind you. Other times it will question the changes.
The art remains the same. You, or your interpretation of it, are different.
I should hope to be different than I was more than 40 years ago. I have earned the right to feel stories and songs through my own ears and not simply as they were told to me.
I have survived. I have been tested and I have tried. I have failed, and I have survived, and I’m still holding on to what I believe in.
And I still listen to the music, not to remind me, but to continue encouraging and inspiring me, as it did then.
As it did yesterday. . .