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

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.

Mondays are just young Fridays

The lush canopy of green above us seemed to take its time arriving.
   The recent sunshine, warmth, and humidity contribute to a general feeling of euphoria.
   No specifics required.
   The changing of the seasons is not lost on us; nor is the change of reasons.
   In the grand scheme of things, this feeling doesn’t last as long as it should.
   Shouldn’t we appreciate this more than we do?
   Look up. Look around.
   Think of where you are now and why you are here.

06/20/2022                                                                            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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Time For Answers

Posted on June 29, 2016 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Enlight1

There is a tree on the highway between Brandon and Winnipeg, one I have passed hundreds of times, which marks the halfway point of the journey.

Roots deep and strong, the tree has been there my whole life, surviving deep-freeze winters, occasional drought, and the widening of the highway. It is an important tree, familiar to anybody who grew up in the area. Mention “the tree” and people immediately know where you were.

The landmark helped answer the ‘how much farther’ question from a restless kid in the back of a sweltering station wagon, and came in handy on any of the bloodshot drives across the barren prairies at 4 a.m., winter or summer.

The tree is a part of me, even now, if only in memory.

It’s too bad there aren’t more trees in our lives, markers to let us know something is halfway done. Yes, we have battery meters that let us know when our laptop or personal device is running low, gas gauges in the car, and clocks and calendars, but we need more organic clues to help us navigate this journey.

Don’t we often question if the glass is half empty, or half full?

We tend to do things differently when we get onto the second half of anything.. Knowing there is only one more lap around the track, we naturally pick up the pace to put in our best performance? If we are caught up in a particularly enjoyable evening, don’t we tend to ease up a little at the halfway point, trying to stretch out the pleasure to avoid the inevitable?

There can be increased optimism if something is nearly done, or added sadness because time is expiring. If we don’t know where we are, how can we know how to react?

June is, for all intents and purposes, the halfway point of the year. By its very nature it is a wonderful month for reminding us where we have been, and what we have done, while still allowing time to look ahead at the possibilities. Summer comes with June; and color, and optimism. Longer days allow a review of the grief and glory we have experienced, and provide increased light to renew your intentions and review your values.

This month is a pulse check. How is your heart beating? What remains unfinished, what is still undone, what more can you do? How will you do it? Should you even bother? Of course there are more questions, but there is still time for answers.

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