Mythos & Marginalia

life notes between the lines and along the edges

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J.G. Lewis

A writer/photographer living and breathing in the greater Toronto area.

original content and images © j.g. lewis.

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.

a daily breath . . .

Hurting

It hurts to hurt.
It hurts to see others
hurting. It hurts to know
there is so little I can do
to help others, except
try to be strong
for those I care for.
I care more.
I couldn’t care less.
It hurts to care.
If I say I try
to care for myself, it is
not meant to sound selfish;
it means I know
I must be strong
so that I can care for
those I love.
I love a lot.
I am capable of more.
It hurts to know I might
not be capable of enough.
It hurts to hurt.

05/18/2021 j.g.l.

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Mondays are just young Fridays

When did we stop looking up,
for no real reason, instead of
looking ahead or over to see
what’s coming?
Or looking up only to see
a sight, an attraction, even to
follow a voice, a plane, a bird,
a cry from above; rather than
lifting our eyes to the sky to
feel the sun on our face, or a
few spontaneous raindrops
unexpectedly refreshing
our soul. Feeling the awe.
Remember, as a kid, having
the time to look up and watch
clouds, or stars, or fireflies,
not even thinking what was
there, but knowing it was
important. Right there.
When did that stop?
Why did that stop?
Do you still wonder?
Today.
Look up. Look further than
what is there. Open your eyes,
unconsciously, and don’t even
think about anything except
being there.
Be there.
Get outside.
Look higher.

05/17/2021 j.g.l.

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night thoughts 5:09 a.m.

Remember to say thank you.
Today. I know you think
you usually do, but usually
isn’t often enough.
Yesterday, or last Friday,
remember, wherever you were,
and the why or where doesn’t
really matter because you
were in a rush, and whatever it
was or wasn’t on time, or you didn’t
get out of that frame of mind,
so you accepted it as is, but paid
no heed to the fact that
somebody else took the time to
get you what you wanted, or
requested, or damn well demanded
because you were you and you
needed just that, right then, and
you got it, yes you did.
Whatever it was, whatever it meant,
whatever you asked for, whatever
you spent. It doesn’t matter, now,
not today, because you got it
anyway. Whatever that was,
whatever your mood, you failed to
show any gratitude. Anything
you’ve got, anything you do, is
always more appreciated when
you say thank you.
Make it a habit. Make it one of
those things you expect
of your self.
You’ll thank yourself later.
Think about it.
At 5:09 a.m., you’ll be
thankful when all is said and
done. With friends and family
or total strangers, if you take
time to say those two simple
words, you’ll make somebody
feel better about themselves.
Even yourself.
Thank you very much.

05/13/ 2021 j.g.l.

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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 . . .

An Outlet

A creative act, the art of putting your self out there, takes guts.
Allowing others to see your thoughts and passions can be disturbing, but it is required.
How can you live with all that pent-up emotion?
Creativity allows you an outlet.
Only you have what it takes to express your self.
Show us your courage.

05/16/2021 j.g.l.
Work In Progress

It begins with a line.
I can’t say that’s the start of it, because there have literally been months of thinking, of planning, and conceiving. Until that first line, I have only been dreaming.
Artful study of subject matter, and colours, remaining cognizant of light and shadows, then plotting it out was only preparation.
A sketch is merely a dream on paper.
Then you make that first mark on the canvas: and then another. Line after line, so many to go; something to guide you. Intuition is not enough. Not yet.
It looks nothing like it will, or what you want it to. Art can take time.
It will evolve with the muse of the moment.
It is a work in progress.
Like myself.
Time and patience; I seem short of both, yet I will keep the pencil moving.
Line by line, by line, it will be some time before the brush touches the canvas.
The paint is waiting: it more patient that I.
Right now what matters is all I have undertaken; a responsibility to my creative self. The first line on the canvas signs my own contract with commitment.
It is happening.
Line by line.
By desire or design.

05/14/2021 j.g.l.
To Be Counted

The final day to complete
the questionnaire. May 11.

General questions form statistics.

Where were you born?

Where you live, whom do you
live with? Among the millions.

What is your language?

Personal information required
by the nation.      Confidential.

An obligation. An enumeration
of the population.         Census.

How do you identify? By law,
you must reply to be counted,
to be accounted for.      Today.

05/11/2021                                     j.g.l.

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Logical and Chronological

May 2021 (4)
April 2021 (8)
March 2021 (9)
February 2021 (8)
January 2021 (9)
December 2020 (5)
November 2020 (4)
October 2020 (4)
September 2020 (6)
August 2020 (4)
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December 2014 (1)

Only Wednesday

Wednesday sits naked
and ordinary
waiting

between the bookends of social Saturday
and restive Sunday. The day is
little more

than a cluster of hours or a stop on the
treadmill. Indecisive and
lonely

nobody chooses a Wednesday. Nothing
happens
on a Wednesday

and it’s the same each week.

Sept 11/01, a Tuesday. London Subway bombings: July 7/05, a Tuesday, also July 21/05,
and also a Tuesday. Assassinations: John Lennon on a Monday, Martin Luther King Jr. a
Thursday, and John F. Kennedy a Friday. Kurt Cobain’s body was discovered on a
Wednesday, but he chose his way out three days earlier. Nothing happens on a
Wednesday.

There are fewer concerts mid-week, and opening night is never a Wednesday. They
never open the Olympics on a Wednesday. Nobody gets married on a Wednesday.

Yet I will choose Wednesday, or I will start with a Wednesday. I'll begin with a page, a
place where I can plant my thoughts. I have many thoughts, each week, every day (even
on Wednesday), but I will commit to posting something once a week. There are seven
days to choose from, and I chose Wednesday.

Now I may post something else on some other day, I’m like that (a true Gemini). If I am
moved or if I have time, if the stars align or the moon gives me a nudge, or if something
is really bothering me, I won’t wait for Wednesday. But I will post something each
Wednesday.

Something will happen each Wednesday, every week. Right here. If you want to see, or
wish to be reminded, sign up. There will also be a daily breath (usually 140 characters or
less) and it will not be limited to Wednesday, but will, or should, arrive every day.

Until Wednesday . . .

-j-

© 2021 Mythos & Marginalia

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