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 . . .

the time between

You are here.
What remains of what was
matters less and less as
distance replaces the time
between then and this.
That was then.
This is now.

06/30/2022                                                  j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

What has been heard, what has been said, after 24 or 27 months give or take? More or less, what was said (even wished) was mainly, and above all else, that we wanted things to return to normal.

We were longing for the everyday day-to-day, the regular way, sort of; or at least, some semblance of such. We wanted, we said, to be with people again, doing the things we usually did.

We wanted to see smiles, again, on stranger’s faces, we said from behind our masks and wanting so much for our lips to be read as much as our expressions of joy. Or reality. Or anything other than what it was for the 26 or 25 months of what came to be.

We weren’t asking for much, really, or nothing any more spectacular than what life grants us on any given day. We wanted the ordinary, if nothing else.

What we have known is not over. How we are living, coping, or struggling, is not the same as it was eight months, or 11 months, back (or 25 or 23). It was a long time, and longer still will be this shadow of a virus that has hung over us (more than a footnote, and still not quite a chapter) in this never-ending story.

What was, or what is, close to some kind of normal, feels closer now. Dare we say it? We wished it, didn’t we, and here we are now more than two years later, finally gathering in parks and parades, galleries, shopping malls, and back at the office.

Masked or unmasked, we might not be as close as we were before, but we are working on it. Aren’t we? Can’t we now see, or hear and experience life, a little bit like we did before?

Yes, we want more, but right now this is as good as it gets for those of us still cautious, yet relieved, that we are here to see what’s going on.

It is, or seems to be, a return to the usual, the normal, and the everyday ways. For some of us it will never happen, for many of us it will never be, but for all of us there is a new (or another) opportunity for ordinary.

The ordinary: after all we have been through, that may even be better than it sounds.

06/27/2022                                                                               j.g.l.

 

cloud songs

     Morning begins it all,
yet it is much later
                    you notice
   nights become shorter
when the day is no longer.
          We see less
       than we want to, and
   know more than
          we should.
   Darkness allows silence.
        May your thoughts
            be understood.

 

06/21/2022                                                                           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.

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Mondays are just young Fridays

Posted on April 10, 2017 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

Fortunate I, very recently, to come across a copy of The Sonnets by William Shakespeare, and to not only re-discover the magic of the bard’s words, but also the interpretation and analysis of a complete stranger.
  In curiously tidy printing (in both pencil and ink) within the pages of the hardcover are passages of marginalia, contrasting or calling into question the poet’s words. Perhaps the book was a text used in university study, or maybe just a strong interest or Sunday pastime, but the notes are a total reminder of how we all interpret words and statements within our own realm or context.
  Although the interpretations, at certain points, differ to my take (though my eyes have been opened to another way of looking at certain aspects of Shakespeare’s work) it reinforces my point that every poem may provide a new meaning for each reader.
  In fact, one of the wonders of language itself is its ability to take on varied meanings, depending on use or phrasing. In that, it is both exciting and confusing.
  Shakespeare himself is considered both exciting, and confusing. Some of that comes more from getting past the language of the day than true meaning. Those of you who may still feel the hangover of studying Macbeth or Twelfth Night in Grade 12 English, would be encouraged to look at the man’s sonnets, where storyline is limited to 14 lines. Perhaps his style is more easily digested in the non-dramatic works, or in small doses.
  Words are an amazing thing — for both what they say and don’t say — in our day-to-day reading or general communication. Sometimes saying what you think and saying what you mean are two separate and distinct things.
 Sometimes, whether marginalia is provided or not, you have to read between the lines.
04/10/17                                                             j.g.l.

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