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 . . .

Mondays are just young Fridays

I; also me: first-person singular.
   It is personal.
   It is how I may view the world, but not as I might write about it.
   I look at what is there and how it affects me as much as the cause and effect of all that may be.
   But, it goes deeper.
   What remains underneath letters disguised as action, place, or point of view, is not lost, perhaps only hidden between the lines.
   Observation; no, self-observation is required, now and then, to check your path and see where you have been or where you might be going.
   Perhaps now is the time, as now is the present, and this may be as good a time as any to look a little deeper into me, myself, and I.
   It is necessary. Now.
   I feel it, but I don’t know why?
   I wrote, many years ago:
     I’m like a pencil;
     sometimes sharp,
     most days
     well-rounded,
     other times
     dull or
     occasionally
     broken.
     Still I write.
   A mantra as much as an explanation, it is personal. I still write, but (again) I must ask myself ‘why’ more as a process of understanding than of questioning.
   We all must wonder, at times, mustn’t we?
   Shouldn’t we all take stock of our movements and memories and emotions?
   I think this is a good time for me.

07/04/2022                                                                                                                              j.g.l.

The Entire Experience

As my world has opened up — and perhaps the sign that we are slowly getting back to some kind of normal — I’ve been able to get out to concerts recently.
   I’ve been to four concerts in the past three weeks, which is more than usual and not as much as I’d like.
   Friday night, I watched and listened to Go Go Penguin. The English jazz band is back to touring after the COVID lockdown we all went through. Seeing the tight trio working through new and old material in its powerful metronomic, if not hypnotic, sound was inspiring; to say the least.
   The crowd in the packed hall was delighted, appreciative, and supportive. You could feel the reciprocal vibe between the band and the audience. The energy was sustained the whole evening through.
   I was overwhelmed by the entire experience. There truly is nothing like live music.

07/03/2022                                                     j.g.l.

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.

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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To Mindfully Communicate

Posted on September 4, 2019 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

A handwritten letter says what nothing else can,

A handwritten letter offers something deeper than what we’ve become accustomed to in this era of instant communication.

Yes, we tap out quick missives in reply to today’s email and text messages. We respond, with a sentence or series of words, to a social media post, but it is always more reaction than interaction.

The width and breadth of a traditional handwritten letter goes deeper and wider. A few lines, a couple of pages, perhaps a bit of history or update on a current reality; each letter of every word contains something you just don’t get from an email.

Correspondence — communication in handwritten form — is to be appreciated and respected for exactly what it is; a truthful rendering on a person’s thoughts, feelings, or theories. There is a certain intimacy involved in the inherent honesty of a letter.

You write differently, perhaps more truthfully, when you commit words to a page by pen or pencil. You forgo the convenience of a keyboard and bypass the spellcheck and cut-and-paste familiarity of this virtual realm we live in.

You tell the story of an adventure, or future plans, in greater detail when you write by hand. Between the salutation and the sign-off, the words on the page take on a life of their own. There is a change in the tense, the texture, and the tone of how, and what, we write.

Outside of the eraser on a pencil (the original word processor) which allows you to catch the occasional error or slightly modify a sentence, words land on the page as you think and as you go.

You read differently, more observantly, when you look over the pages of a handwritten letter. The brain, overly-accustomed to the increased amount of text we consume in a single day, has to process the information in what has become an unfamiliar manner.

The eyes register the information more keenly — with less physical strain on the eyeball than what is required to read off an illuminated screen — and follow each curve and line of every letter, at times struggling with the varied uniformity of each person’s interpretation of the alphabet. It can be a challenge to read someone else’s handwriting, but there is an appreciation that another human being took the time to mindfully communicate.

A handwritten letter takes time. Thoughts captured on paper one day could take days or weeks to arrive at the intended destination. There is not the immediacy of electronic communication, but there is not the need.

A handwritten letter is timeless.

 

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