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 . . .

communication

Sadly, our voice
is not always
strong, or not always
there ,when it
is needed.

It is hard to know
what to say, or
how to say it,
so often we
remain silent.

Silence stops the
process of
communication,
but it does not
stop the thoughts.

08/09/2022                                                                                   j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

A sign I’ve been glancing at, daily, since I noticed it a week back at a regular coffee stop where I try to begin my day with a dark roast cup of bravery.
   I try to take the time, every morning, to scribble out my current considerations, deliberations, and contemplations on images and memories that have come to me in my dreams and in reality.
   If your first meal of the day is the most important, shouldn’t your first thoughts be as well?
   Take time to write them down. It’s important. What you are thinking affects how you continue to navigate your self through the coming hours or weeks.
   “The bravest thing you can be is yourself.”
   How much courage is required to make it through the remainder of the day? Is a single cup of coffee enough to provide the fortitude required to step further into the day?
   It’s a good start.

08/08/2022                                                                                         j.g.l.

cloud songs

   

       Often we find promise
in the unexpected, only to be
   disappointed by the reality
          that presents itself.

    Tomorrow lacks the
certainty of yesterday,
but leaves enough room
       for hope.

What will this day provide?

08/05/2022                                                                                     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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Too Much Misinformation

Posted on December 9, 2020 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

I shouldn’t be surprised, not in this era of doubt and disbelief, not at a time where presidents cry “fake news” over even a weather report not favourable for golf.

I am not surprised that this vicious rumour has persisted since I was a child. For years now there has always been that bit of hush-hush, nudge-nudge, whenever his name is mentioned.

Yet, there it was, in black and white, a leaflet stapled to the message board on Queen Street proclaiming Santa Claus is NOT REAL. Of course it caught my eye.

It was a detailed document explaining one of the many legends of Santa Clause I have read in my time. I’ve heard, over the years, of Kris Kringle, of St. Nicholas, and even Sinterklaas. In countries around the world, legends vary in size and stature but the good and gracious generosity of this grand fat man in a red suit is universal..

He, the likeness and the mystery, is part of what makes Christmas a time for children. I think of the memories of this most wonderful time of the year. It’s what makes it real.

I believe in Santa Clause. I have seen Santa Clause, and I have been Santa Claus.
I know about the man, and those reindeer, and those elves (some of them by name). Many have, and still do, doubt his existence and much has been written about the persona and the possibility. . . Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

I remember, in elementary school, a boy my age, a friend in fact, explaining this fictional or farcical character could not be. He said the tale was not factual; twas not even logical.
“How on earth in such little time could one man provide gifts to all the children everywhere,” he said with such confidence.

Now, my mom had already explained about Santa’s helpers and the range of shopping mall Santas I began to notice more and more, but they weren’t the answer. I knew.

“It’s magic,” was my response then, as it is now.

Of course, I would later learn that my friend was Jewish, or I would later understand what that meant. and I knew Santa wasn’t a chapter in the New Testament. I learned he didn’t believe in Christmas, so how could he believe in Santa?

I knew I did. I still do. I believe, especially this year, that we all need to give the guy a break. I believe we need to believe.

There’s not been a lot to celebrate on a worldwide scale, and it’s still premature to call the COVID-19 vaccine a Christmas miracle (Christmas is not science). This year, we will not gather around big tables with friends and family recipes like we used to do. We will not share the spirit as we have, or how we would like to.

Main Street corners and shopping malls are desolate, some boarded up, and there are no Salvation Army kettles to collect change for those less fortunate. Everything is supposed to be done online, both the shopping and the charitable giving, but it is not the same.

There is a feeling I count on every year about this time. I’m not getting it without the hustle and bustle of seasonal shopping and it’s not because of the physical distancing (or any devote sense of consumerism). I need the mental and emotional stimulation that comes with Christmas, and with Santa Claus. I like to see smiling faces on strangers and children. I like the little holiday spirit I get from a barista with my morning coffee, even the casual happy holiday or seasonal greeting I get from salesclerks, waiters, and receptionists.

I even enjoy growing tired of the overplayed Christmas music (at least the bad stuff) and listen to my favorites year after year, as I will this year.

But it’s not the same.

This year, more than ever, we need a little Santa. We need to believe, again, in the gratitude of what we have, the precious nature of relationships and the connection with friends and the love of family near and afar. Especially this year as we can’t get as close as we’d like, for as long as we’d like, whenever we like.

We know, or should know or hope, the sacrifices we make this year will mean a safer and happier holiday next year. That’s more than a Christmas wish.

So I looked at this sign on Queen Street, not as an insult, as evidence there are people who still need to believe in the magic of Christmas. Maybe, when this is all over, more people will.

I looked at the sign, and did what any father, or any believer, would do; I tore it down.
It was unsettling enough that I had seen it; I wasn’t going to let another child walk by and question the reality of it all. There is already too much misinformation in this world.

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