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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habits/intentions

Posted on December 28, 2023 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Having tried before, I’m not one for making New Year’s resolutions. I feel they set you up for disappointment. I decided this years ago, having pledged myself something more than what was possible or even practical. 
   I was finding that not reaching unobtainable goals was far too predictable and with that comes the disappointment, even depression, of not keeping up with a personal challenge. I no longer make resolutions, yet I still plan or pursue a path each year by setting intentions. 
   This year I am, once again, tying up my intentions in the annual practice of sending a letter to myself. Some years I will write this personal letter on the eve of solstice, other times in the final week of the year. It is finding time to take stock of feelings and emotions. 
   It is self-love, self-awareness, and communication with the person who understands me the most. 
   It comes with reflection. 
   The topic, theme, style and length of the letter varies from year to year. It matters not how much I write, only that I do. 
   I might be going easy on myself this year by simply selecting three or four habits I wish to tend to. 
   When first thinking this approach out, I used the term “bad habits”. Then, I realized how inaccurate (and negative) that was. Some of the habits I had considered were, essentially, good habits that only need to be altered. For instance, I enjoy music and always have. I have a sizeable collection of vinyl and compact discs that continues to grow. I can always find a reason to step into a record store and pick up something new and exciting or revisit my past (the recent remastered 30th anniversary of Nirvana’s In Utero on 180-gram vinyl satisfied both cravings). 
   But it also got me wondering. 
   I already had the CD from all those years ago. And I have hundreds of other albums and discs, some of which haven’t been heard in a quite a while. 
   So, do I need more recorded music at this time in my life? Perhaps it’s the right occasion for an embargo of sorts on new purchases while I spend a year concerning myself with the music I already own. It is a simple decision that I could easily wrap up in an intention: Use what you already own. Or even I have enough; the thought pattern that resulted from another “habit” review. 
   What I will do today is write down what comes to mind (or has become apparent over the past week or so). Habits, good and bad, will be on the list. I will write these on the left-hand side of the page. Opposite, I will write out corresponding intentions. 
   Once completed, I will tear the list along the line in the middle, taking the acknowledged habits and tossing them in the recycling bin. 
   The side of the page that remains — my intentions — will be neatly folded and tucked into an envelope addressed to myself, sealed, and with correct postage dropped into a mailbox. My intentions will be sent forward into next year, and not just symbolically. 
   When the correspondence arrives at my home, I will not open it (not immediately) but simply tuck it into my journal. The letter may not be opened for years (or maybe even ever) but I know it will be there. 
   There may be times in the years ahead where I must remind myself again of my true intentions or rethink my habits. 
 
© 2023 j.g. lewis 

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