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

Very early this morning, I couldn’t help but glance westward to the brilliant full moon hovering above the CN tower and office buildings of downtown Toronto. The lights inside the sky-high structures not nearly as bright as Luna, but nonetheless picturesque.
   It was a beautiful scene capturing the city I live in and the celestial delight that has guided me for as long as I remember.
   And, I without my camera.
   Pre-coffee, I was not awake enough, or wise enough, to reach into my pocket and at least snap a few shots with my mobile device. I didn’t think, at the time, my simple phone would do the Moon any justice. I instead held the scene in my head.
   While there is a certain convenience to the trusty mobile device, I prefer to use my camera where I have a greater selection of focal lengths and can more artistically control the light entering the lens.
   The camera, I feel, gives me the control I need. Even in the darkness.
   It is all about control.
   I have spent a lifetime learning the intricacies and settings of a camera and its lenses, both digitally and in the more traditional film format. A true camera allows me to make photographs and not simply take snapshots. I like to control and compose as I go through this life. My camera allows me to do that, when I have it with me.
   I later searched the digital files of my computer to find one photo or anther of the Full Moon. I have many times captured both the subject and its essence, but I did not this morning.
   I will however remember this morning’s Moon.
   And I will regret not being prepared enough, or aware enough, to capture what was before me. I did not have the control I wanted.

02/26/2026                                                                                   j.g.l.

times change

When do you decide to make a change?
   Are there circumstances that force you to rearrange the way you run your life?
   Health concerns, living arrangements, sudden interests, or new people and possibilities.
   Change is not always organic.
   Sometimes we have to fight with old habits and patterns, while other times change just happens (good or bad). We still need to rethink what is important.
   How do you decide, and where do you begin?
   The answers can be found, only, within.

© 2019 j.g. lewis

02/23/2024

Words intentionally scribbled in an old notebook, a quote from someone or somewhere. that often comes to mind.
   ‘Do what is right, not what is easy.’
   Many people have said it (or variations of such), so attributing the inspirational words to somebody specific is more difficult to understand than the moral itself.
   A powerful thought from someone who probably thinks more than me (and I do a lot). It is not easy, and sometimes my thoughts are not right, but I try to own them.

02/23/2024                                                                                           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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All You Can Hope For

Posted on May 14, 2022 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

I have five favorite words. Individually, each is strong. Together, in any order, in any amount, they are powerful.

Inspiring.

Life-affirming.

Peace

Faith

Hope

Love

Trust
Five words; words worth waiting for . . . or searching for, fighting for,
or hoping for.

For many years, the words had become a mantra of sorts, my mythos; so to speak. Not so much an incantation, but more of a statement, or laundry list, of words I believed in.

Then, it seemed, I didn’t.

A few years back, in frustration mainly with myself, the word hope lost its power. By circumstance or consequence, I lost my ability to communicate authentically. My words, my thoughts, my actions and aura, were not connecting, as they should have. I didn’t realize this until it was far too late.

I went numb. I settled into a pattern, and hope never once gave me a nudge. Without hope you are hopeless. I wasn’t. So, I removed the word hope from my vocabulary. It seemed like the right thing to do, at the time.

It came to me at the wrong time, but I realized there is nothing to hope. Hope it is a useless word. Unlike the other four words, hope has no substance. You can know peace, you can feel love, you learn and earn trust, and you can find faith. But all you can do is hope for hope, and that itself says something.

Hope keeps you wondering, hope keeps you waiting, and hope keeps you thinking. There is no resolution in the thoughts hope provokes. You just keep hoping, and that is wrong. Or it certainly isn’t right.

There is nothing tangible to hope. Hope is wishy-washy.

Hope does nothing but prolong pain, anger, or insecurity and fear. Hope, eventually, does little more than create doubt and disappointment. While hope comes from euphoric thoughts or feelings, there is nothing concrete to it.

If anything, hoping creates false hope, or it seems as if that is what true hope is: false. It tends to create unsubstantiated ideals for desiring what may be, when instead you should focus on what you have or what you want.

So I stopped hoping. I began planning.

I settled into a routine I believed would accomplish my goals and remove the sadness I had encountered, simply by staying busy with my plans. And, for a while, it seemed to work. I planned, and I followed through on my plans. They were concrete, they could be adjusted, or altered, or erased. Plans were made, plans were acted on, or plans were dropped. It seemed easier when I didn’t include hope.

Hope is a difficult word; it is tenuous, at best. It lacks definition. I, then, lacked definition. I was lost, and there was no hope. I could not even aspire to hope. You can want, but it is not hope. You can dream, no, you can wish, but that is not hope.

I had stopped hoping.

What I was doing, I thought, was a far cry from hope. But, as you go, as you grow — as I evolved — I then realized you couldn’t erase hope. No matter how I continued to deny myself, hope was always there. It may not always be bright and shiny, but it reaches out, or occasionally whispers from the shadows. Perhaps it is subconscious, but as you plan, as you accomplish even in small increments, there is this bit of hope that keeps you moving forward.

You just have to acknowledge it.

Not including hope in your life is like painting a rainbow without violet; the rainbow is not complete. Life is not complete without hope.

Hope, as a word, has returned to me. I have allowed it back into my vocabulary, and into my life, though I know it never left.

I don’t think you ever lose hope, which is not its nature. Hope keeps you believing, I think hope is what drags you through the grief, or giving-up stage, and keeps you looking further ahead. Hope is the root of all planning.

The thing is, the hope you seek must be self-contained. It’s a lovely thought to hold out hope for someone else, but you don’t really have that power. Hope is internal. In the face of tragedy or despair, I think the greatest hope is how you respond to the situation, and how you deal with the aftermath. Hope is always there, in the back of your mind, or at the core of your being.

It’s when I stopped hoping, that I stopped being.

© 2022 j.g. lewis

 

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