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

Pick up what’s left of the shadow that has been trailing you for a week or three, the one you have noticed even when the sun hasn’t been shining as it should.

   Of course there have been distractions (there always is), even as your nerves are beginning to fray, and all those anxieties still follow you, surprisingly so, on any old day.

   Intermittent rain washes away hopes and plans dreamed on and diminished now. Still, you have the time and, more importantly, you have the mind to make it all happen. You’ve got something more important to say.

 

10/14/2023                                                                                                                               j.g.l.

 

on its own

Poetry is power, and poetry is
a weakness, as much cowardice
as courage. A delightful
contradiction, it sucks at your
soul, and, like a fussy infant,
cannot wait to be fed. More.
Not to be silenced until sated.
Nourished then,
it so slips into gentle slumber,
life’s rhythm allowing dreams and
sweet solace, only to wake soiled
and screaming. Comfort comes
with a soothing voice, gentle touch,
and reassurance. Flesh and blood,
innocent for only a while, it grows
alongside you, until it stands
on its own.
Poetry.
You give it life, then it to you.

© 2016 j.g. lewis
                                                   

Mondays are just young Fridays

One year since. . . 

   The death toll rises each day in this certain uncertainty. A geopolitical conflict, its consequences spilling out across this planet and onto the streets of my city. Distanced from the direct atrocities of another war, it is more than tension we feel in the neighborhoods where we live.

   Every day the headlines speak to me. Every day there are more questions than answers.

   How many bombs?

   How many dead?

   How many prayers?

   How many times, in my lifetime, have I heard about the possibility of Middle East peace?

   I, still, can only try to understand.

   I too live with the fear, the grief, and the polarization of it all.

 

10/07/2024                                                                                                                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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Mondays are just young Fridays

Posted on November 15, 2021 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

I went to a choir concert last Friday night, a rather emotional performance of a 20-voice a capella ensemble at a church across the city. The experience has been with me the entire weekend.
   I wanted — no; I felt I deserved — an evening out.
   We’ve all been living through several waves of this pandemic for 20 months (it feels longer) and things have loosened up enough that I was craving some sort of return to normality.
   But I wasn’t ready to return to a jazz bar I frequented pre-COVID, nor a large concert, but the opportunity to hear a chorus of real live voices within a large church sounded comfortable.
   It was.
   The performance of That Choir at the St. Anne’s Anglican Church was profound.
   The performance met all COVID-19 safety requirements: proof of double vaccination, essential masks, and decreased seating.
   Even though both the crowd and the choir were physically distanced, it felt so close.
   The sounds of the human voice is remarkable, especially a collective this precise and polished. That Choir filled the large church setting and some of the emptiness that had been building up inside of me.
   I believe we all felt it. The choir director was even tearful at the end of the first selection. This was the first time the choir had performed in front of a live audience since this whole pandemic business set in.
   We were sharing space.
   We have all been cooped up for so long. Through this pandemic we have been living in isolation of sorts. This contact with other people, as things begin to open up, felt natural; and it hasn’t felt like that in a while.
   You could sense the choir director’s happiness; you could hear true joy in the voices of singers, and you could hear the delighted response in each round of applause from the appreciative crowd, especially the standing ovation at the completion of the concert.
   It felt good, it felt right; it felt humane.
   We attend arts events not only for entertainment, but also for community.
   We are human. We belong together.
   Thank you to each member of That Choir for providing a truly human experience.
   Grateful.

11/15/2021                                            j.g.l.

Posted in A daily breath

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