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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All That A Mother Is

Posted on May 6, 2015 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

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Over the coming days we are going to hear a lot about mothers. Whether through media advertising or the chatter about the office, it doesn’t take much to remind us this Sunday is Mother’s Day.

Once a year we collectively honor the person who brought us into this world. One day, surely, is not enough to celebrate the miracle of motherhood.

Throughout our lives we learn, each day, about ourselves, and about others. We learn from mistakes and accomplishments, we learn from teachers, partners, and friends; but at the core of our knowledge are the lessons learned from our mothers.

The first person we imprint on, mothers teach us the basics of eating, sleeping, and living. They teach us comfort, just by being. We learn, through them, the power of a hug, how to communicate, the importance of clean underwear and a good night’s sleep. From our mothers we know kindness, forgiveness, and humility. Sadly, we never fully learn how to appreciate all that a mother is.

Motherhood is the act (or art) of sacrifice. Mothers do what they do to keep their kids safe, and to help them grow. They do it without question. At all ages they comfort their children through skinned knees, prolonged hospital stays, broken hearts and broken marriages. They are there for us, always, in all ways. That’s what makes them mothers.

Mothers give us something to believe in. When hungry, as a child, we knew mom would have dinner on the table, or lunch packed for school. When we had to get somewhere, or be picked up later, it was mom who was there. When frustrated, or disappointed, a mother’s ear was always available.

A mother makes growing up comfortable, they make growing up bearable; they make growing up necessary.

In a world where expectations are high, rules are set, and guidelines placed on just about everything we do, we intrinsically know a mother’s love and acceptance is there unconditionally. And they provide it whether we say thank you, or not.

Mothers give us someone to believe in. My mom, now long gone, remains the greatest influence on my life. She not only provided me with lessons on parenthood by example, she also taught me to believe in myself. In athletic, artistic, or career pursuits, her words of wisdom have always guided me. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

I haven’t done everything I want (not yet), but I keep trying. I continue trying for me, and for her. Mothers are there your entire lifetime. Even when they are gone, the morals and moments keep coming back.

Mothers do amazing things, every day. In fact, a mother is charged with the most amazing thing of all. The role, in its most elemental description, is being the one to give life. Think, just for a moment, of what a mother is able to produce from her body, a body that is able, has the power and capacity, to produce another human being.

From the womb come eyes that take in beauty, lungs that fill with air, fingers that touch, and souls that transcend time; all produced from a mother’s body.

I can pride myself in what I have been able to give, or pass on, to my daughter, but I didn’t give her life.

Anybody who doesn’t believe in miracles need only think of childbirth. Any one who doesn’t believe in true love only needs to think of their mother.

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