Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all

j.g. lewis

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 . . .


Comfort food,
as the temperature dips.


Restaurant special,
mom’s recipe or
make it up as you go.

Is there a better day
than today?

Be nourished.

Take the time
to enjoy.

Remember the leftovers.

09/23/2022                                                                    j.g.l.


Art is subjective,

graffiti destructive,

or is it



09/22/2022                                                                   j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

There is nothing definite about autumn.
   Fall is fickle, if not downright unpredictable, right down to when it begins.
   We have ‘Meteorological” autumn: defined by splitting the year into nice simple quarters with September 1st chronologically marking the day.
   Then we have “Astronomical” autumn beginning on September 22nd and marked by the autumnal equinox.
   But last week, I observed “Spiritual” autumn, not as much defined by a date as a feeling.
   It was unexpected actually. It was Thursday. The weather had been downright balmy as of late and the trees remain lush and leafy. The gorgeous colours so familiar to autumn have hardly arrived, so the morning chill took me by surprise, and I without a sweater.
   Indeed, it felt like autumn.
   Autumn comes with the end of summer and is elated closely to going back to school.
   How many years of my life have been marked by September? Certainly those of my youth, when summer seemed to last a helluva lot longer than it does these days.
   Enjoy your autumn; stretch it out as long as you can because winter, most certainly, will be much more definite.

09/19/2022                                                                                          j.g.l.


I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
other times
dull or
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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Posted on December 12, 2016 by j.g.lewis // 2 Comments

People walk in and out of our lives,
each of them carrying with them
a message. We learn about them,
but more about ourselves, in the
way we accept that message;
words that may not even be
relevant at that time.
Then, years or days later, the
thoughts come back to us as
insight and inspiration.
Take a little more time with people
as you meet them and learn a little
bit more. Everybody can teach you
something. I know I’m still learning.


Mondays are just young Fridays

I’ve been thinking about painting, a lot.
  I used to paint. I used to paint a lot. At
one time I might have even considered
a career in commercial art, then a camera
had its way with me and I chose to follow
another path.
  Still I painted. I painted once in a while
or occasionally, but not enough to really
see if I could paint as well as I thought,
or as well as I wanted.
  I even told myself that painting was what
I would do when life slowed down a bit,
or when I retired from doing whatever it
is I was doing.
  I would paint when I had more time.
  In the past I painted with watercolours
and acrylics mainly. I dabbled in oils, but
oil painting is for serious artists. Now, I
know the technique (classes helped) and
understand the time it takes to work with
oils, but not having the time I never
ventured further.
  I’ve even described myself as a latent oil
painter. Lately, I’ve had difficulty allowing
the thoughts to remain latent.
  A character I have been working with is
a painter, a fine artist, an oil painter at
that (I said earlier that oils were for the
serious). I’ve been seriously editing (even
rewriting) the manuscript, and in doing so
find myself again fascinated by how she
paints, how she sees, and even how she
approaches her art. I remember writing
the original scenes and was then, as I am
now, inspired.
  I even thought, at one point of the
process, of working on a painting as I
was writing, to further get the feel of the
paint and the rhythm of the brushstroke.
  I stopped myself, knowing, or feeling, I
did not have the time. I knew it would
take away what I was really working on.
  But still, especially now, I want to paint.
  I probably should paint. I think I need
to feel something else, I have ideas and
thoughts I need to let out. I even have
some sketches.
  But do I have the time?
  I have more editing to do, I have more
writing to do, I have commitments, and
deadlines, and I’m not sure I have the
time or space to indulge this feeling or
this fantasy.
  Or maybe that is just an excuse?
  Don’t we all have things we want to do,
but never make an earnest effort to find
the time? Instead we find excuses.
  What’s your excuse for not doing what
you want, or think, you should be doing?

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