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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Only Wednesday

Posted on December 31, 2014 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

IMG_5467

 

Only Wednesday

Wednesday sits naked                                                                                                                               and ordinary                                                                                                                                          waiting

between the bookends of social Saturday
and restive Sunday. The day is                                                                                                                little more

than a cluster of hours or a stop on the                                                                                        treadmill. Indecisive and                                                                                                                       lonely

nobody chooses a Wednesday. Nothing                                                                                       happens                                                                                                                                                           on a Wednesday

and it’s the same each week.

 

Sept 11/01, a Tuesday. London Subway bombings: July 7/05, a Tuesday, also July 21/05, and also a Tuesday. Assassinations: John Lennon on a Monday, Martin Luther King Jr. a Thursday, and John F. Kennedy a Friday. Kurt Cobain’s body was discovered on a Wednesday, but he chose his way out three days earlier. Nothing happens on a Wednesday.

There are fewer concerts mid-week, and opening night is never a Wednesday. They never open the Olympics on a Wednesday. Nobody gets married on a Wednesday.

Yet I will choose Wednesday, or I will start with a Wednesday. I’ll begin with a page, a place where I can plant my thoughts. I have many thoughts, each week, every day (even on Wednesday), but I will commit to posting something once a week. There are seven days to choose from, and I chose Wednesday.

Now I may post something else on some other day, I’m like that (a true Gemini). If I am moved or if I have time, if the stars align or the moon gives me a nudge, or if something is really bothering me, I won’t wait for Wednesday. But I will post something each Wednesday.

Something will happen each Wednesday, every week. Right here. If you want to see, or wish to be reminded, sign up. There will also be a daily breath (usually 140 characters or less) and it will not be limited to Wednesday, but will, or should, arrive every day.

Until Wednesday . . .

-j-

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