Days, weeks, then months
and years drift by.
Not always noticeable, or even
memorable, the time behind us
simply accumulates. All in all,
the sum of its parts leads to
a life well-lived, if you take
a moment to notice.
09/10/2024 j.g.l.
Mondays are just young Fridays
It’s not about height
or breadth, or depth.
It is all about perspective.
What limits you?
How far can you see?
To what end do you
appreciate what is in front of you?
Looking back is hindsight
and you have already been there.
Change your point of view.
Look up.
Don’t overlook opportunities.
What are your limits?
09/09/2024 j.g.l.
within
Secrets are rarely as heavy as
the weight we assign to them.
The gravity of circumspect
plays out, time and again. It is
what we carry as we decide
what crosses, or is held within,
our moral divide.
Sit with it for a while, moved
only when memory comes into
play; last night, or the other, or
any other day.
09/05/2024 j.g.l.
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.
Mondays are just young Fridays
Posted on November 2, 2020 by j.g.lewis
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I spent time over the weekend writing letters, replying to cards, sending an overdue thank you note, and catching up on correspondence.
I enjoy writing letters.
I like communicating through the more traditional snail mail. I love postage stamps. I like the tactile feeling of pencil on paper, it seems more personal to me.
The thing is, I have been tardy lately.
It just seemed hard to find the time. And I wasn’t busy.
I was, however, caught up in this pandemic thing like everybody else. All the news of the spread of the deadly COVID-19 virus was wearing me down, and it was coming at me all the time.
It was rather isolating.
I wasn’t making the time to write a letter at a time when I had more time to myself.
It felt onerous to even attempt a letter, and that didn’t feel right
It’s been like this over for almost eight months.
There are so many things we aren’t doing.
You become accustomed to all the things you can’t do that it affects the things you like to do.
I like writing letters; it’s like sending a long-distance smile.
I haven’t been smiling enough lately, but sitting down with my pencil and paper yesterday helped.
Joy comes from the small things we do.
Pleasure is found in the things we can do.
Communicate when you can. We all need to hear or read other voices. We are all going through the same thing.
11/02/2020 j.g.l.
