Mythos & Marginalia

2015 – 2025: a decade of days


  • torn away

    Words that were there, affixed
    to a streetlamp or storefront window.
    A public notice. Not a poem
    with words as bold as Neruda, or as cynical
    as Bukowski. Perhaps pro-Palestine proclamations,
    explanation or justification of a conflict
    on the other side of this world.
    Political turmoil, opposing views attempting
    to indemnify culture and common cause.
    Inhumanity’s debate seeps further into our space
    here in this country or city, then removed
    Torn away from the realities we face.

    We cannot understand the sentiment;
    even a sentence. Nary a word is now
    comprehendible, but it meant something
    to someone. Defenseless. How can we
    explain what was there when you, yourself, cannot
    understand your own thoughts.
    Yet you do know the need for expression,
    communication, even protest.
    We have all left words behind for somebody else
    to read or relate to. Unappreciated offerings.
    Like a poem, protest has
    so many meanings and misunderstandings.

    © 2024 j.g. lewis 

  • on the way

    At times your vision is blurred.
       Your thoughts howl with the velocity of uncertainty.
       Sometimes the going gets tough, or you become stuck in traffic on the way to where you need to be.
       You stall, or may have to pull over and get your bearings, but you know, deep down, that you need to keep moving forward.
       Yes, the weather, your wisdom or wherewithal, may slow impair your efforts.
       A detour may send you off in the wrong direction, but you do have the capability of turning yourself around and getting back on track.
       You know how to do it, and may need to be reminded from time to time, but you will get there.
       Keep trying.
       You are not here to watch life pass you by.
       You are here to continue moving at the speed of life.

    © 2018 j.g. lewis

  • something worth aspiring to

    Each year I try to select a word or phrase to guide me through the coming weeks and months. Some years it is a quote from somebody or another that, for whatever reason, inspires me or causes me to think a little deeper.  
       Other years it has been a single word. 
       Whatever I decide upon, I will take those words and affix them to the first page in my dayplanner as a reminder, or prompt. I will look at those words often throughout the year. 
       I had been wrestling with a few motivating words over the past week, trying to see what fits into my current state of mind. I’ve been restless lately, but in a content sort of way. At times, indecisive is not such a bad way to be, except when you are looking for a concrete direction. 
       A few days ago, after flipping through notes, newspapers and assorted scraps, the headline of a magazine article captured my imagination; it spoke to me and all that I believe. 
       Being Human. 
       As a mantra or a mission statement, I can’t think of anything more important right now. 
       Human: it is what I am. We all are.  
       It is something worth aspiring to. 
       Being human: it is something that should come naturally. 
       Then again, a deeper question: How can I be a better human? 
       Or, conversely, what defines a human? 
       To be a human is to be an individual, but you learn or grow up knowing that all humans function better when not isolated. We need each other. 
       Expand upon friendships you have earned over time, cherish them for what they are. Find ways to improve relationships that make you feel worthy, find worth in those friendships you have allowed to fall by the wayside. Reconnect, if possible. Couldn’t we all use more friends? 
       Expect less of others, but demand more of yourself without getting caught up in the anxiety of it all. 
       Follow through on promises you make, make less if you are not able to fulfill them, and appreciate any pledge offered or intended. 
       Offer help when you feel it is needed, accept what is offered, and try not to overlook the efforts of others. Charity flows both ways. 
       Be humble. 
       Be mindful of the state of this planet. Recognize the aggressions many people face, but also realize that many of those battles are internal. You yourself seek balance in your own mental health. 
       Show compassion, be less judgemental. 
       Be more forceful with your intentions and recognize limits need not be boundaries but goals worth striving for. 
       Don’t let life pass you by; participate in that which brings you joy and invite others along. 
       Realize we all need company or consideration. 
       Humanity cannot be forced, but it can be improved upon. Isn’t that something to work towards? 
       Strive not to be something you are not but be all that you can. 
       Being human is a good place to start. 

    “To be human means to care for one another.” 
                                                       -Pope Francis 

    © 2024 j.g. lewis 

  • For Now

    Darkness not always geographically obvious,
    although you can determine details.
    Full Moon hangs a little closer,
    its availability secure for a couple of days.
    Appreciated.
    A chimney gasps into a prairie chill,
    time-honoured tall trees only a shadow, before
    slight snow dusts rooftops like icing sugar.
    Simple memories of childhood.
    A landscape I once knew so well.
    I have been here before.
    Familiarity is quite apparent.
    You cannot call it comfort, for that takes time;
    more time than I have. For now.
    Only the night knows where you have been.
    Ever the night shows what you have known.
    I felt I belonged, and I will return.
    For longer.

    © 2024 j.g. lewis

  • habits/intentions

    Having tried before, I’m not one for making New Year’s resolutions. I feel they set you up for disappointment. I decided this years ago, having pledged myself something more than what was possible or even practical. 
       I was finding that not reaching unobtainable goals was far too predictable and with that comes the disappointment, even depression, of not keeping up with a personal challenge. I no longer make resolutions, yet I still plan or pursue a path each year by setting intentions. 
       This year I am, once again, tying up my intentions in the annual practice of sending a letter to myself. Some years I will write this personal letter on the eve of solstice, other times in the final week of the year. It is finding time to take stock of feelings and emotions. 
       It is self-love, self-awareness, and communication with the person who understands me the most. 
       It comes with reflection. 
       The topic, theme, style and length of the letter varies from year to year. It matters not how much I write, only that I do. 
       I might be going easy on myself this year by simply selecting three or four habits I wish to tend to. 
       When first thinking this approach out, I used the term “bad habits”. Then, I realized how inaccurate (and negative) that was. Some of the habits I had considered were, essentially, good habits that only need to be altered. For instance, I enjoy music and always have. I have a sizeable collection of vinyl and compact discs that continues to grow. I can always find a reason to step into a record store and pick up something new and exciting or revisit my past (the recent remastered 30th anniversary of Nirvana’s In Utero on 180-gram vinyl satisfied both cravings). 
       But it also got me wondering. 
       I already had the CD from all those years ago. And I have hundreds of other albums and discs, some of which haven’t been heard in a quite a while. 
       So, do I need more recorded music at this time in my life? Perhaps it’s the right occasion for an embargo of sorts on new purchases while I spend a year concerning myself with the music I already own. It is a simple decision that I could easily wrap up in an intention: Use what you already own. Or even I have enough; the thought pattern that resulted from another “habit” review. 
       What I will do today is write down what comes to mind (or has become apparent over the past week or so). Habits, good and bad, will be on the list. I will write these on the left-hand side of the page. Opposite, I will write out corresponding intentions. 
       Once completed, I will tear the list along the line in the middle, taking the acknowledged habits and tossing them in the recycling bin. 
       The side of the page that remains — my intentions — will be neatly folded and tucked into an envelope addressed to myself, sealed, and with correct postage dropped into a mailbox. My intentions will be sent forward into next year, and not just symbolically. 
       When the correspondence arrives at my home, I will not open it (not immediately) but simply tuck it into my journal. The letter may not be opened for years (or maybe even ever) but I know it will be there. 
       There may be times in the years ahead where I must remind myself again of my true intentions or rethink my habits. 
     
    © 2023 j.g. lewis