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.

Follow on social media

Keep in touch

Enter your email to receive notification of significant posts. Don't worry, I won't clog up your inbox or sell your data

Meaning Comes With Age

Posted on June 20, 2018 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

   Summer doesn’t speak;
it whispers a conscious melody
to high-heeled fashionistas with open toes,
sunburnt brats with runny noses, and
old men who know
evening air is sweeter
when dusk has had its way.     Humidity.
Sweat of the glass,
                                 Tangueray and tonic
will take away the pain,
Mosquito bites, lonely nights
sitting on an ever- creaky veranda,
Dinah Washington crackles from the speaker.

Suddenly you appear. . .

   Any other day
flowers stand taller, like
the younger women strolling by,
getting younger by the day.
Watch them
                      and wipe
the perspiration from your brow;
the once-crisp handkerchief has
soaked up many nights of lustful thoughts.
Old men just grow older,
the meaning comes with age.     Humility.
Summer lasts as long
as a savings account wastefully spent.

Then you are gone. . .

   Over time
most of the flowers will perish
well before first frost,
mostly from neglect.     Naturally.
We will all grow tired
of looking at them,
                                 or forget the beauty.
Our minds go to other places.
Yet summer, in its capricious wisdom,
will breathe again
to those of us who will listen.
To young women
and older men.

© 2018 j.g. lewis

Watercolour painting by Kevi Remple

* selected lyrics from Invitation.
Written by Bronislaw Kaper/Paul Francis Webster,
the jazz standard was memorably recorded
by Dinah Washington in 1962. Has desire ever
been captured more sensually in a musical state?

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

-->