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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Sheer And Utter Rapture

Posted on January 4, 2019 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

By Mitch Smith

Where I am now is decidedly different from where I was at twelve months ago.

Then I was angry and cynical about our country and the tin pot dictator who had stolen the White House. I was in a perpetual storm of ego and angst, of despair and hopelessness. I had to take a small part-time job because of some financial issues and I was trapped, it seemed, in a loop of maddening sameness; a La Brea tar pit of banality.

Needless to say, I was not at the top of anyone’s social list, not even mine. 

Then mid-year, my daughter, who had given birth to my granddaughter in November 2017, ran into some difficulties with the baby’s father and needed a place to stay. I was all too happy to accommodate them, although I will admit to a certain trepidation and fear. What would that mean to my life, to my routine, to my stability?

As tenuous as my life was, I had lived alone for almost twenty years, which is a hard nut to crack. 

Zariah came into my life like a laser, like a shooting star across a black sky. Everything I thought I knew about love and devotion and surrender were all shaken away, like loose skin, and I was immersed in a level of sheer and utter rapture.

Now, months later, I am still floating with this feeling. Seeing her grow and take on a personality and a spirit is an everyday miracle for me. Seeing her smile, and even cry, blows my heart up like a giant balloon. 

My angst and cynicism? Oh, they are still there, but now I find that I don’t need to dwell there anymore, they no longer define me, or explain me. I am now someone’s grandfather; someone’s father; someone’s lap to nap in or shoulder to cry on.

I stand now, at the end of a tumultuous year, in a renewed sense of hope. I am seeing the world through different eyes and no longer assuming the worst of everyone and the world at large.

That little girl has rescued me from myself.

I am home. 

Photo by Mitch Smith

Mitch Smith is a 64-year old semi-retired substance abuse counselor, who lives with his daughter, and granddaughter, my dog and two cats. Mitch enjoys reading, writing, photography, and continually learning how to be content and happy in his life. 

Throughout January, Mythos & Marginalia is looking at Where We are, as witnessed by contributing writers from across this magnificent planet.

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