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

I called up a friend on Saturday. 

   I had a question that couldn’t readily be answered by Google, and with my limited knowledge or recollection of the subject matter, I could not satisfy my curiosity.

   It was while I was wondering or trying to figure this all out, that I suddenly had the idea that this certain friend may have an answer, opinion, or perspective I was looking for.

   Now, I hadn’t spoken with this friend for quite some time. She lives in a different city, and while we do keep connected with occasional cards or letters and random comments on Facebook, it has been more than five years since we’ve actually met up in person.

   Still, I felt comfortable enough picking up the phone and making contact.

   I know I surprised her with the call, and her voice was as emphatically cheery as I remembered it to be. I asked the question; we conversed over the intended topic, and I valued her opinion and her recommendations. I expressed my appreciation for her thoughts, and then we went about randomly explaining certain aspects of our lives.

   We spoke of each other’s families, upcoming holiday plans, interests and experiences, relationships, and all the stuff that friends talk about. It was the kind of conversation that seemed to pick up where it left off. We shared, in bits and pieces, what our lives were about in the moment. It is what friends do.

   How one defines a friend — especially in these days where social media uses the term so broadly — is so very subjective. In my phone call Saturday, I realized that his friendship was far more than many others. I am blessed.

   Saturday’s delightful conversation went a lot longer than I imagined it would. It also strengthened a connection that is now more than a decade old. Given that I will soon be moving, and we will soon be in the same city, I am looking forward to experiencing this friendship on a more regular basis.

   A true friend is one you can call up at random, ask questions and have answers provided with clarity and consideration. Friendship recognizes where you are but eliminates the distance.

   Friendship is the type of thing you want more of.

   A friend is more than a name and number in your address book. Friendship allows you to use that number whenever it is needed.

11/25/2024                                                                                                                                            j.g.l.

 

this journey

How do we choose to travel?
What is reliable in the rain?
What is our ultimate destination,
for this time, this journey, or
this day?
We move at the speed of life.
Depending on traffic, others
may chose to follow your path,
but not your direction.

© 2021 j.g. lewis

this season

A little cold, little wet,

a little tired and yet

I am here. Still,

full of wonder.

The morning chill leaves

little to the imagination

and much less

to hope for.

Expected, perhaps, as it

always is, this time, this

season is only what

we ask of it.

11/21/2024                                                                                                                    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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Posted on December 12, 2016 by j.g.lewis // 2 Comments

People walk in and out of our lives,
each of them carrying with them
a message. We learn about them,
but more about ourselves, in the
way we accept that message;
words that may not even be
relevant at that time.
Then, years or days later, the
thoughts come back to us as
insight and inspiration.
Take a little more time with people
as you meet them and learn a little
bit more. Everybody can teach you
something. I know I’m still learning.
                                                                           j.g.l.

 

Mondays are just young Fridays

I’ve been thinking about painting, a lot.
  I used to paint. I used to paint a lot. At
one time I might have even considered
a career in commercial art, then a camera
had its way with me and I chose to follow
another path.
  Still I painted. I painted once in a while
or occasionally, but not enough to really
see if I could paint as well as I thought,
or as well as I wanted.
  I even told myself that painting was what
I would do when life slowed down a bit,
or when I retired from doing whatever it
is I was doing.
  I would paint when I had more time.
  In the past I painted with watercolours
and acrylics mainly. I dabbled in oils, but
oil painting is for serious artists. Now, I
know the technique (classes helped) and
understand the time it takes to work with
oils, but not having the time I never
ventured further.
  I’ve even described myself as a latent oil
painter. Lately, I’ve had difficulty allowing
the thoughts to remain latent.
  A character I have been working with is
a painter, a fine artist, an oil painter at
that (I said earlier that oils were for the
serious). I’ve been seriously editing (even
rewriting) the manuscript, and in doing so
find myself again fascinated by how she
paints, how she sees, and even how she
approaches her art. I remember writing
the original scenes and was then, as I am
now, inspired.
  I even thought, at one point of the
process, of working on a painting as I
was writing, to further get the feel of the
paint and the rhythm of the brushstroke.
  I stopped myself, knowing, or feeling, I
did not have the time. I knew it would
take away what I was really working on.
  But still, especially now, I want to paint.
  I probably should paint. I think I need
to feel something else, I have ideas and
thoughts I need to let out. I even have
some sketches.
  But do I have the time?
  I have more editing to do, I have more
writing to do, I have commitments, and
deadlines, and I’m not sure I have the
time or space to indulge this feeling or
this fantasy.
  Or maybe that is just an excuse?
  Don’t we all have things we want to do,
but never make an earnest effort to find
the time? Instead we find excuses.
  What’s your excuse for not doing what
you want, or think, you should be doing?
                                                                 j.g.l.

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