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 . . .

coud songs

Everything within your grasp,

         and that so far removed, 

   is as consequential 

   as it feels.

 

             Breathe 

     between the space 

within the enormity of it all.

 

   There, right there, 

                   is liberation.

 

Freedom awaits 

those that recognize 

personal growth, and them 

         who continue to look.

 

07/19/2024                                                                                                  j.g.l.

knowledge

Did you realize, or

do you? Now, was there 

   more or less gravity to the

                    situation at hand? 

 

All present and accounted for, 

   yet still we want a little more

knowledge.      If you know

                                       you know. 

 

Perspective is far greater than

   a simple rationalization, or a

sudden realization. Do you care, 

                                           truth or dare.

 

07/18/2024                                                                           j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

Last Friday — inspired by a horoscope offered in a publication I had never read before — I went silent. The words in the free community newspaper suggested I keep opinions to myself for a single day, and I took the words of wisdom to heart. 

   Breaking my usual routine I made coffee at home, freeing myself of the need to speak even civilities to attentive coffee shop staff. I did not speak. I can’t recall if I muttered anything under my breath, but I did not offer any opinions to anyone. From what I remember, not even myself.

   I spent the day painting, reading, and thinking.

   I didn’t listen to the radio or stereo, avoided the television, pretty much shred away from social media, and in the afternoon paid particular attention to birdsong emerging after a torrential downpour.

   I simply painted, and read, and thought, and that was all that was required. I didn’t even write. 

   It was placid, serene, and especially comfortable.

   I enjoyed this slight respite; it was almost meditative, to a point (but I didn’t overthink that angle).

   Instead, I stayed in the moment, contemplating the moods and the colours of the day.

   There was a lot of thought, self-analysis and otherwise. Self-thought entirely, not another voice to suggest, scold, or alter my perspective.

   My opinions may have mattered only to me, but does it even make sense that on that day I chose not to have any, even subconsciously?

   That was good enough to me. It was good for me. I may even choose to do it again, perhaps even regularly.

   There is power in silence.

 

07/15/2024                                                                                                                     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 June 27, 2022 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

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.

 

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