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 . . .

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.

Mondays are just young Fridays

The answers are far less certain

than even last week, to all those

perennial questions or solutions

you might seek.

 

What do you believe, or 

what do you believe in?

 

Come Monday, you have fewer 

questions than you had last week.

For a while there are less doubts

in what you believe. 

 

Whom do you believe in,

and who believes in you?

 

11/18/2024                                                                                                          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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comfort and solace

Posted on April 30, 2023 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

I received a letter this past week from a faraway friend whom, over the years, has shared with me details and the dimensions of her life. The letters are always a joy to receive and the dialogue from the back and forth correspondence, over time, is endearing.

In the most recent letter, she shared news of intense sadness as her father, her “rock”, had recently passed away. She is now grieving.

We all deal with grief personally, intimately and unknowingly. It is always unexpected: you don’t plan for grief, in any circumstance.

Grief consumes you. It forces you to think about an awful lot of things, and our relationship with the departed is both embraced and questioned.

It is only natural.

My friend wrote that at the memorial service, she and her sister gave offered the eulogy, and then she recited a poem that was dear to her.

I was reminded, as she shared her thoughts and the written words, of how we can each find comfort and solace in poetry. A poem can make our emotions become clearer by offering perspective.

Sometimes, when we can’t find our own words, those of someone else find their way to us. A poem captures both life and death, and each element and emotion in between.

Poetry offers a deeper peace.

With a poem there is always room for more.

 

In Blackwater Woods

by Mary Oliver

 

Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

 

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

 

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

 

of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

 

nameless now.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

 

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side

 

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world

 

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

 

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

04/30/2023                                                                                             j.g.l.

 

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