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

    Kismet, naturally or unexpectedly,
holds sway on this or any other day.
       If we choose to notice.
       If we permit ourselves to linger
a moment or three in a transitive state 
between elements of darkness and bright, 
           morning quells emotions and
   disruptive thoughts we once embraced.

03/26/2024                                                                                     j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

Dented, bruised, scuffed up and circumstantial, the imperfections are obvious.
   It goes past superficial.
   Seeking more than a cover-up, healing is necessary.
   Hope is less than present but needed, so I try to do what I need to do. Each attempt to repair the damage that is done — the day-in-day out flaws that have become ingrained in my psyche — is another step.
   It takes effort. It takes encouragement, and it takes understanding even if I can’t completely comprehend the history that led up to the marks on the façade.
   I need to do the work.
   At times trying is the best I can do when I know I want to do better.

03/25/2024                                                                                                  j.g.l.

the weather still

‘When’ is a question greater than ‘why’.
   Important it is to know ‘when’ something will happen, rather than ‘what’ or ‘where’, because ‘when’ always involves a wait (that’s ‘when’ the ‘why’ kicks in).
   Our patience is tested.
   ‘When will we get there’ or ‘when is it time’? Both questions of our youth, at least, questions of mine.
   Spring has arrived, but ‘when’ will it come? The weather still indicates winter is hardly done.
   How can we wait, or ‘why’ is it we must? You might only find the answers ‘when’ you are ready to trust.

© 2022 j.g. lewis

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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At My Own Speed

Posted on September 5, 2018 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

I no longer ride as fast as I used to. It’s not that I can’t; I simply choose not to.

As far back as I can remember, whether it was on my third-hand lake bike at age nine, finely-tuned road bike at 19, or sturdy mountain bike at 29 (and every version, model, or style of bike in between), the lure of a bicycle has always been speed.

To get anywhere, I chose to ride as fast as I could. I was seduced by speed, a habit that continued as my youthful legs pushed a single-speed cruiser, or the muscular teenage frame took a 10-speed to its limits.

Accelerating was always exhilarating.

Of course there were many (many) accidents along the way. Physical injury should have been a warning, and should have held me back, but it wasn’t my way. Skinned knees, sprained wrists, full-leg road rash, and broken bones could not stop me.

I kept pushing. I darted into traffic, challenged myself to pass cars and navigate through traffic without care or caution. I didn’t wear a helmet; I didn’t need to (I thought). Among the many feelings you have when you ride a bike is one of immortality. Eventually you learn that is not the case. It begins to sink in as you mature, or grow older.

I’m different now.

I started cycling again this summer, an activity I had put off for a few years. Yes, it does come right back to you. . . indeed, like riding a bike. I even had a few scrapes and bumps on my first few days back in the saddle (just like old times).

I ride differently now.

Now I check the-rear view mirror. Now, I study cross-streets before entering an intersection. Now I use hand signals. I act responsibly (or as responsibly as a somewhat irresponsible individual can be). I, now, wear a helmet; I now see the purpose.

I ride slower (most of the time). I watch, I look around. I notice more. It’s no longer a case of getting from here to there, but enjoying the ride along the way.

My bike is now a little more comfortable; the tires are wider and there is a little more padding to the seat. I have (and appreciate) fenders, and a basket. I use a bell to warn fellow cyclists I may pass, or I ring my bell to signal injustices along my route (Hey, cabbie, get the hell off the bike lane!).

I gear up, and down, more frequently now in a more efficient use of energy and movement. I’m also a better judge of terrain and traffic. I anticipate bumps in the road, and adjust my style when I get too close to other cyclists, pedestrians, or cars. Rolling stops are pretty much a thing of the past.

I’m not overly cautious, but I am mindful of where I want to go. I’m learning to plan a safer way of getting there. The ride is no longer considered a separate act of transportation, but rather a part of my journey.

I still enjoy the speed, and the cool breeze of speed, but it is not speedy like it was before. I tend to move at my own speed. I can’t be rushed, or I don’t often rush.

Life is, many times, like riding a bike.

© 2018 j.g. lewis

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