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 . . .

viewpoint


Vision obscured by common occurrence,

perhaps appearing disparate today, yet 

always hope for an alternate perspective.

    Hardly a coincidence, isolation may 

principally compound its influence or 

allow you to seek a different viewpoint.

Take notice, observation provides clarity.


05/21/2024                                                                                      j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

There.

 

Sit, quietly and comfortably, where you are.

 

Acknowledge the gradient nature of progress as it happens with the shades of past days inflecting a presence we don’t often respect.

 

Take your time.

 

Feel. Where you are.

 

At the intersection of faith and contentment you will gradually find your way.

 

Think about it.

 

Set your intentions.

 

Now rise, slowly and purposefully.

 

Look up, not only with your eyes but with your neck engaged in mindful movement.

 

Release the stiffness in your bones, allow energy to radiate from the spaces between.

 

Let the weight on your shoulders dissipate as you allow the arms to simply hang as if they are not even there.

 

Inhale. Exhale.

 

Each breath is as important as the next.

 

Breathe.

 

Exercise thankfulness, first and foremost to your self and the effort you have just expended.

 

Hold that thought.

 

You have already begun to experience the day.

 

Gratitude will follow with your next steps.

 

Share that feeling.

 

Enjoy this day.

 

 

 

05/20/2024                                                                        j.g.l.

cloud songs

      As it is and will be 
for the foreseeable future, there is 
only what remains behind the disguise.
   As natural as it has been, as
   astonishing as it occasionally seems, 
   we can only hope it will get better.
     Why is it we allow optimism 
     to dislimn all that is?
          Hope casts a lengthy shadow.
 

05/17/2024                                                                                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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Posted on November 28, 2015 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

 

Enlight1

Let’s go out tonight, drink
warm beer, listen
to mediocre music
and spit
on the dance floor. Nothing Fancy.
Just a place
with people we don’t know,
where we can be anonymous.
A place
we can smile.
We haven’t done that, really,
for a while.
There are a few places
we could go. Not The Rex, no,
the music is too fine and it’s usually full,
the line-up is too long, and the service
too slow. The music
would be a distraction. Tonight
all that matters is you and me.
We don’t have to talk, not
about the past, or
what’s been growing
in our minds. We can sit silent,
and smile.
That’s just fine.
Let the night
tell it’s own story.
How about that place, further
down Queen, the crowd
is a little rougher and
the music gets loud. Often the cops
take a tour of the room, but it’s good,
it’s okay. It doesn’t mater, if it’s now.
We can drink
to any sorrows, or
find laughter when we can. Casual.
No need to dress to the nines, like
maybe a seven, or eight.
You always look good. I’ll be me,
a wrinkled shirt and shabby jeans.
We’ll blend in
with the scene, the
kind of comfortable where we know
where we’ve been.
No need to talk,
we can soak up the bluesy,
some say sentimental, groove,
and we’ll watch the drunks sway
to the tunes
as Bad Luck Woman plays with
an off-key bass, but a lot of heart.
Romance rekindled, lovers
or strangers, even this crowd,
immune to the danger.
It get’s loud, hard to talk,
but the night tells it’s own story
narrated by misfits, and mothers,
smoking cigarettes
at the edge of the entrance,
talking about
where the money goes, what
went wrong
and how the Leafs
might do it, this year. Maybe.
All important stuff.
With the occasional shatter
of a glass on the floor, as wizened
old hippies shout out for
more.
More of what? We don’t know
we don’t care,
we need this time
to say nothing, to clear up the air.
It’s good, it’s fine, it’s the night
we need to shake off silence,
let thoughts of the past go to rest.
No need to discover
if our emotions are addressed.
Order another round of
watered-down draft, and
drink a toast to
the moon. Let’s go out
tonight
and let’s do it soon.
                                                  © 2015 j.g. lewis

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