Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days

  • as what will

      Frequently designated a dreamer, in perpetuum, 
    among many other things, he does, he admits, 
    allow little space to plan. 
                                              Rightly or wrongly, 
            this is the path 
                 he has ended up on. Difficult, perhaps, 
                   at times when cracks in the concrete led him astray. 
      Only recently discovered, by accident more than fault, is balance
    maintained in a world cluttered with discrepancies and dogma 
    forced upon him by conspiracy theorists, self-serving henchmen, 
        Jesus freaks and hangers on, black hole believers 
            and Masters of the Universe 
              who continue, ad nauseam, to propagate fear.

      Erstwhile encounters not forgotten, not 
    soon enough, minutes bypass memory, he has clung to details 
          accounted for nostalgically and passionately, 
              each plank of a moral platform galvanized and scandalized.
    He continues, white-knuckle grip, adhering
    to a belief system founded over time; tested, altered, 
    as deemed fit or favourable.
    Fully aware and seemingly appreciative, he has crossed the line 
       from seeing himself merely as a character in this long drawn-out drama 
            to bearing witness 
                             to what happens, as it happens.
    He, alone, will not wait to understand, but,
        carpe diem, record the state of a disingenuous planet.

      Each event, as it unfolds, to be accepted as what will.
    No longer a second-hand story in third-person narrative, 
                         this first-person view could offer confusion at worst, 
    discomfort at least, though instant, authentic, and liberating in ways 
    only he will determine. Tenet nosce.
     Each element of freedom comes at a cost. 
             He will taste the summer ahead, open mouthed, open-minded, 
                   without concern of those in the past, but
                       with a belief not to get too far ahead of himself 
    in the dreams he conjures. 
    Self and the spirit pacified today with the joy offered, 
          instead of looking for what 
                   is no longer there. It is easier that way.

    © 2018 j.g. lewis

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  • just a while

    The incandescent fragrance of lilacs 
    hangs in the breeze, enhancing 
    silence, accentuating the freedom 
    of the sleeping city at 3 a.m.

    A certain stillness, cars rest in suburban 
    driveways; toxic fumes dampened, 
    leaving little to blatantly disrupt the 
    balance of a slightly-starry night.

    Restless romantics lay half-awake, alive
    and questioning all likely answers 
    slipping through the window. For 
    just a while we breathe and sleep.

    © 2017 j.g. lewis

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  • collecting silence

    So much is worth less now than it was even last week, or last year. Do we consciously recall interest rates, the power of the buck, or the sliding scale of humanity? Here we are collecting silence without interest or any semblance of knowledge. Our truth seldom realized, we mainly struggle individually, collectively, anonymously, hoping there is room for prayer in the dialogue we create, the stories we tell, and memories we count on to provide some sort of satisfaction to our give-and-take existence. Emotionally depleted, morally depreciated, we learn (or we have learnt) not to count on politicians, talk show hosts, or even your daily horoscope for answers or admonishment. Do we call this survival or another attempt?

    © 2023 j.g. lewis

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  • all you can hope for

    I have five favorite words. Individually, each is strong. Together, in any order, in any amount, they are powerful.

    Inspiring.

    Life-affirming.

    Peace

    Faith

    Hope

    Love

    Trust
    Five words; words worth waiting for . . . or searching for, fighting for,
or hoping for.

    For many years, the words had become a mantra of sorts, my mythos; so to speak. Not so much an incantation, but more of a statement, or laundry list, of words I believed in.

    Then, it seemed, I didn’t.

    A few years back, in frustration mainly with myself, the word hope lost its power. By circumstance or consequence, I lost my ability to communicate authentically. My words, my thoughts, my actions and aura, were not connecting, as they should have. I didn’t realize this until it was far too late.

    I went numb. I settled into a pattern, and hope never once gave me a nudge. Without hope you are hopeless. I wasn’t. So, I removed the word hope from my vocabulary. It seemed like the right thing to do, at the time.

    It came to me at the wrong time, but I realized there is nothing to hope. Hope it is a useless word. Unlike the other four words, hope has no substance. You can know peace, you can feel love, you learn and earn trust, and you can find faith. But all you can do is hope for hope, and that itself says something.

    Hope keeps you wondering, hope keeps you waiting, and hope keeps you thinking. There is no resolution in the thoughts hope provokes. You just keep hoping, and that is wrong. Or it certainly isn’t right.

    There is nothing tangible to hope. Hope is wishy-washy.

    Hope does nothing but prolong pain, anger, or insecurity and fear. Hope, eventually, does little more than create doubt and disappointment. While hope comes from euphoric thoughts or feelings, there is nothing concrete to it.

    If anything, hoping creates false hope, or it seems as if that is what true hope is: false. It tends to create unsubstantiated ideals for desiring what may be, when instead you should focus on what you have or what you want.

    So I stopped hoping. I began planning.

    I settled into a routine I believed would accomplish my goals and remove the sadness I had encountered, simply by staying busy with my plans. And, for a while, it seemed to work. I planned, and I followed through on my plans. They were concrete, they could be adjusted, or altered, or erased. Plans were made, plans were acted on, or plans were dropped. It seemed easier when I didn’t include hope.

    Hope is a difficult word; it is tenuous, at best. It lacks definition. I, then, lacked definition. I was lost, and there was no hope. I could not even aspire to hope. You can want, but it is not hope. You can dream, no, you can wish, but that is not hope.

    I had stopped hoping.

    What I was doing, I thought, was a far cry from hope. But, as you go, as you grow — as I evolved — I then realized you couldn’t erase hope. No matter how I continued to deny myself, hope was always there. It may not always be bright and shiny, but it reaches out, or occasionally whispers from the shadows. Perhaps it is subconscious, but as you plan, as you accomplish even in small increments, there is this bit of hope that keeps you moving forward.

    You just have to acknowledge it.

    Not including hope in your life is like painting a rainbow without violet; the rainbow is not complete. Life is not complete without hope.

    Hope, as a word, has returned to me. I have allowed it back into my vocabulary, and into my life, though I know it never left.

    I don’t think you ever lose hope, which is not its nature. Hope keeps you believing, I think hope is what drags you through the grief, or giving-up stage, and keeps you looking further ahead. Hope is the root of all planning.

    The thing is, the hope you seek must be self-contained. It’s a lovely thought to hold out hope for someone else, but you don’t really have that power. Hope is internal. In the face of tragedy or despair, I think the greatest hope is how you respond to the situation, and how you deal with the aftermath. Hope is always there, in the back of your mind, or at the core of your being.

    It’s when I stopped hoping, that I stopped being.

    © 2022 j.g. lewis

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  • your voice counts

    Listen . . . 
    not to the mental graffiti and emotional traffic staining your thought process, 
    and not to the persistent and ever-present vocabulary of the naysayers and ne’er-do-wells. It is only noise.
      Listen, past the clutter that distracts from your true thoughts and intentions, and find solace by being, seeing, and believing in your self.
      Your voice counts.
      The voices of others — at times knowledgeable and appreciated — still do not speak earnestly to who, or what, you need to know.
      Only you can do that.
      While it may become difficult deciding, or culling through the options and potential solutions to personal predicaments, only you can find the answer.
      You.
      Only you possess the knowledge and thoughts that are best for your self. Consult your memory; remember how it was or how it could have been. Utilize the wealth of wisdom built up over your time on this planet. Yes, you’ve made bad decisions in the past, and these should also be referenced.
      Remember.
      It is important to be aware we all cannot survive in isolation, that we live in world requiring us to deal with a wide variety of people and personalities. In this diversity we find ourselves.
      We are individuals. 
      Avoid the trash talk and melodious bafflegab of the soul-sucking corporations trying to steal your persona by turning you into somebody else, or be like all the others.
      Be yourself.
      If we buy into the marketing and messages of timeworn merchants of confusion, or the chatter of threadbare zealots, you cannot, and will not, see past the borders they set up before you.
      Establish your own boundaries.
      Remain as individual as you are, listen to your self, and be reminded it is a voice of value. The opinions and attitudes of others often invade plans of where you want to go. 
      Heed the good advice offered, take it with grain of fault, and make sure it is good for you.
      Don’t let the noise steal your piece.

    © 2016 j.g. lewis

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