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 . . .

look forward

The Tulips at St. James Park have run their course, the bulbs dug up and stored away until planting this fall.
    Right now it is just dirt, but I can feel potential.
    In the coming days, gardeners will fill the plant beds with a fresh crop of flowers to see us through the summer. I am anticipating beautiful things.
    Over the past couple of years, St. James Park has become a regular part of my landscape. It began during the COVID lockdown when I found myself passing through the park on my daily walks around downtown Toronto. It was more than a habit.
    The park became an oasis in my day; comfort within the concrete of the city. The shade of the magnificent trees always gave me a reason to stop.
    Sometimes I would sketch the flowers and trees, write a poem when the muse called out, or simply spend time with my journal or my camera.
    Some days I would just sit, as I did yesterday and the day before. Some days you only have to listen or look around.
    Yesterday, I noticed the water has been turned on in the bird bath after a two-year absence. It’s not quite a fountain but I know I’ll find myself, at some point, wasting time with my camera and capturing birds as they refresh themselves in the heat of the day.
    I look forward to it; time well-wasted is good for the soul. It’s always nice to have a place where there is the potential to do just that.

06/02/2023                                                                                                                   j.g.l.

?

We live in a world of what ifs.
What if we did something else,
or what if we weren’t there (as
sometimes we shouldn’t be
when it comes down to the
wrong place at the right time).
What if it never happened?
What if we had responded
differently or if we had taken
the advice we were told?
Would we have been so bold?

05/30/2023                                                                                        j.g.l.

Remembrance.

As it is, not
as we wish it to be.

You have days
to think back on,

and you do…

05/25/2023                                                                                           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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Perception

Posted on November 4, 2015 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

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One more sentence, one more thought, one more
photograph, to seal the day, to put it all away for
a night. A restless night,
a night where I will struggle, I will not rest
                      not now, so again I am back to
one more word, one more sentence, one more
chapter. Ideas, bought and paid for, with everything
that I possess and all I do not have.
                                                   Credit then,
paid now, for what may be enjoyed later.

I am all over the place. If mindful, it is now more of
being hyper-aware. For should a minute go by, and
I miss a sound that may make all the difference, I will
                           perhaps spend a lifetime attempting to
                     capture that moment, and the one before.
One more idea, one more opportunity, one more
sentence. I think, at times, what keeps me awake
is the thought or image of what needs to be done.
It might be words, or a landscape, for one
                                         often needs the other
                                       to be fully complete, or
presented as I see them. I need to feel more.

I want to make my thoughts count. Perception. A
certain type of beauty, that, for some, may be rough
or disturbing, yet that, in itself, is a wonder that
keeps me awake, and will not rest, as I should. But can’t.
                     Insomnia: the word itself is dirty,
                     tarnished with realizations of what
happened, or will and might. I choose not to succumb
to a chronic belief that sleep alone will cure a life, but
instead decide to find the bounty within my darkness,
to make it come alive.

                                             Should I find sleeplessness, I
will discover the challenge in this vulnerability, taking
the time, one more time, to reclaim it as mine with
one more chance, one more breath, one more
taste.
                                 To seek out beauty, is to find it.
                      To continue looking is to find it again.

So while you sleep, or when you wake, come join me.
Be drawn, like gravity, to sidewalk shadows only neon
can know, nostalgic music screaming from passing
cars, and the silent click of my camera, or my voice.
                                                            The wind will whisper,
its drunken breath oozing the sensual scent of autumn,
subsidizing the nocturnal opus. Aided and abetted
by the din of sleepless traffic, the vacant streetcar is
            a solo cello sustaining the deft melody.
                              The struggle of sleep is a physical need,
                          it robs you of thought, fills you with greed
for one more photograph, one more sentence, one more
kiss.
© 2015 j.g. lewis

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