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

It wasn’t about age; it is still about the music.
   I, and an almost-full arena, took in a spectacular concert last night as The Who played Toronto.
   Augmented by a full orchestra, the timeless British band gave us two hours of absolute magic; full of the sonic glory you expect from guys who have, at several points in history, proved that rock and roll is what it is.
   The Who could have spent the evening simply trotting out a career’s worth of hits, but instead opened with a string of compositions from the rock opera Tommy. Later in the night we were treated to a solid set from Quadrophenia. Both albums go well back into the ‘70s.
   Of course they played, and played well, the songs that many people know more from the CSI television series, but several of the big hits where left out (they did not play I Can See For Miles my absolute favourite song ever), but that was okay. Last night was all about the music.
   I’ve long considered The Who to be mostly about Pete Townshend, the guitarist who wrote much of the band’s catalogue. Now, at 77 years of age, Townshend is still in fine form. But so is lead singer and front man Roger Daltry, 78, singing and screaming in a manner that defies age.
   I’ve seen the band a couple of times in my lifetime, and chances are I will not have the opportunity to see them again. This may be The Who’s last tour, but then Townshend said he would quit touring in 1982.
   So there is hope, and there is still the music.

10/03/2022                                                                     j.g.l.

 

Giving Into Time

Gardens across the city are looking tired.

The flowers and foliage have for months been growing, blooming, celebrating the glorious sunshine and making our days on this big, beautiful planet ever more enjoyable.

But, come October, even the most curated gardens and manicured lawns are showing signs of wear and tear from the dipping nocturnal temperatures, lack of rain, care, or even neglect.

The cycle from spring, through summer, and now autumn, becomes more obvious each day. Daisies, Black-eyed Susan, Echinacea, once-boastful geraniums and hydrangeas are giving into time.

I can’t even find a dahlia anywhere.

Our landscape is getting darker.

The colours of flowers we count on to fill our lives will soon only be available in photographs, florist shops, or bouquets of the day at the market. We take it wherever we can, whenever we can, but we will wait patiently for next year’s gardens to bring back the everyday joy as the cycle will begin once again.

10/02/2022                                                                            j.g.l.

Truth and Reconciliation

truth
comes at a cost

honour
those who have already paid

respect
the process

healing
takes time

forgiveness
takes even longer

 

In Canada, September 30 marks the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. This day honours the Survivors of residential schools, the children who never returned home, and their families and communities.
Orange Shirt Day is an indigenous-led grassroots commemorative day intended to raise awareness of the individual, family and community inter- generational impacts of residential schools and to promote the concept of “Every Child Matters”.

09/30/2022                                                                            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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Mondays are just young Fridays

Posted on November 30, 2015 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

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A house is not a home.
   It is not about the furnishings, or
accessories. It’s not the photographs
or artwork displayed on the walls.
Yes, they are reminders of were you
have been, or how your tastes ran, but
possessions are not what it is about.
   They are not what you are about.
   As comfortable as the bed may be,
it is not where you sleep each night,
and it’s not about what you dream;
but it is a place you can dream.
   You live in various places at
different stages of your life. The
houses, apartments, condos change,
as do neighbourhoods and cities.
The people you live with will change
as well, as will you.
   But the bricks and mortar do not
make a home. It is much stronger
than that. Home is a feeling, it is
where you become comfortable, it is
where you are fully aware of your self,
and the life around you.
   It fluctuates, as a living essence
contained within in your mind and soul.
It can move you, and move with you,
and, conveniently, does not have to be
sorted through or boxed up (that’s
just stuff).It goes where you go, or can.
   Sometimes it can be hard to find, and
you can leave it in one place, expecting
to find it again along the way.
   It is not always there. There are always
people who contribute to this feeling of
home — family, friends, and lovers —
but they are not always there. At times,
you are alone, but it does not mean you
are not at home.
   Home is where you belong. And, often,
there are people who make you feel you
belong there. It can be difficult to put
into words. It can be loud and confusing;
where too much goes on and so much
has to. Yet, in spite of the noise, and
hype, and the pace and demands of
the day, you can still find silence at home.
Home is comfort.
Home is a place you can be yourself.
Home is where you can express yourself.
Home.
   I want to go home.
                                                     j.g.l.

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