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 . . .

cloud songs

Everything within your grasp,

         and that so far removed, 

   is as consequential 

   as it feels.



     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.


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
other times
dull or
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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Mondays are just young Fridays

Posted on July 3, 2023 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

You know you’ve spent too much time in Starbucks when you’ve heard On and On twice in the time you’ve been collecting thoughts in your journal.
    The other morning, in the same coffee shop, there was almost a nostalgic tinge to a song that was so overplayed on popular radio in the late ‘70s, but this morning I reached my saturation limit of the Stephen Bishop hit I can’t recall liking that much anyway.
    Sure, the studio musicianship was flawless and pitch perfect, and there were a few lines of clever lyric, or maybe it was the unexpected meter to the words: “Steals the stars from the sky, puts on Sinatra and starts to cry”. In this morning’s unexpected over-analyzing, I find it’s the purposeful use of the three syllables in the name “Sinatra” that bring about a little bit of songwriting magic that cover up the flaws of the inane Top 40 hit.
    But Bishop’s timid (that’s my chosen synonym for weak) voice ends up grating on my nerves even more than Al Stewart’s Time Passages, next song on the Starbucks playlist and even more forgettable than On and On.
    The song in 1977 into 1978 and 1979 was immensely popular on the AM radio station in my hometown. My mom’s car radio didn’t have an FM dial or the 8-track or cassette tape option, so you were, pretty much, forced to listen to the city’s one station or the that from the city two hours away when the signal made the distance. The song seemed to be as popular on that station as well.
    It was a sappy song in the California soft-rock vein of the day I still refer to it as “air-conditioned pop”; you know, controlled and comfortable. There was a lot of that going around in the late ‘70s: pure pap.
    It shouldn’t matter this much to me now.
    I’ve already spent too much time thinking about a song I didn’t think I cared about anyway.
    Sometimes Mondays are like that (especially a holiday Monday); there’s a little too much thinking and not enough substance to those thoughts.
    Then again, maybe Mondays should be like that; maybe you should get all those insubstantial thoughts out of your head early in the week so you are far better able to deal with the consequential thoughts and important decisions that will arrive later in the week.

07/03/2023                                                                                                                    j.g.l.

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