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: December 2023
“Isn’t it amazing the way the
future succeeds in creating
an appropriate past?”
–John Leonard
Where you are now
will alter your past, if
you choose to look
back, in the future.
12/31/2023 j.g.l.
Posted on December 28, 2023 by j.g.lewisLeave a comment
Having tried before, I’m not one for making New Year’s resolutions. I feel they set you up for disappointment. I decided this years ago, having pledged myself something more than what was possible or even practical.
I was finding that not reaching unobtainable goals was far too predictable and with that comes the disappointment, even depression, of not keeping up with a personal challenge. I no longer make resolutions, yet I still plan or pursue a path each year by setting intentions.
This year I am, once again, tying up my intentions in the annual practice of sending a letter to myself. Some years I will write this personal letter on the eve of solstice, other times in the final week of the year. It is finding time to take stock of feelings and emotions.
It is self-love, self-awareness, and communication with the person who understands me the most.
It comes with reflection.
The topic, theme, style and length of the letter varies from year to year. It matters not how much I write, only that I do.
I might be going easy on myself this year by simply selecting three or four habits I wish to tend to.
When first thinking this approach out, I used the term “bad habits”. Then, I realized how inaccurate (and negative) that was. Some of the habits I had considered were, essentially, good habits that only need to be altered. For instance, I enjoy music and always have. I have a sizeable collection of vinyl and compact discs that continues to grow. I can always find a reason to step into a record store and pick up something new and exciting or revisit my past (the recent remastered 30th anniversary of Nirvana’s In Utero on 180-gram vinyl satisfied both cravings).
But it also got me wondering.
I already had the CD from all those years ago. And I have hundreds of other albums and discs, some of which haven’t been heard in a quite a while.
So, do I need more recorded music at this time in my life? Perhaps it’s the right occasion for an embargo of sorts on new purchases while I spend a year concerning myself with the music I already own. It is a simple decision that I could easily wrap up in an intention: Use what you already own. Or even I have enough; the thought pattern that resulted from another “habit” review.
What I will do today is write down what comes to mind (or has become apparent over the past week or so). Habits, good and bad, will be on the list. I will write these on the left-hand side of the page. Opposite, I will write out corresponding intentions.
Once completed, I will tear the list along the line in the middle, taking the acknowledged habits and tossing them in the recycling bin.
The side of the page that remains — my intentions — will be neatly folded and tucked into an envelope addressed to myself, sealed, and with correct postage dropped into a mailbox. My intentions will be sent forward into next year, and not just symbolically.
When the correspondence arrives at my home, I will not open it (not immediately) but simply tuck it into my journal. The letter may not be opened for years (or maybe even ever) but I know it will be there.
There may be times in the years ahead where I must remind myself again of my true intentions or rethink my habits.
© 2023 j.g. lewis
This is a journey.
Where we are or
where we end up
becomes, perhaps,
one in the same.
Then, as now, we
sought comfort.
Now, as much as
then, we may well
be uncertain of our
true direction or final
destination. Or self.
We all want to belong.
12/26/2023 j.g.l.
