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

 

Sometime over the coming weeks, but certainly by the impending new year, this website will undergo a few changes. You might even see them as they evolve.

It’s time for both change and a new year, and an alteration to the way I conduct myself and display my daily thoughts: I write every damn day.

Daunted by the insidious infiltration of routine, I have become frustrated. To combat the daily delirium, I’ve considered certain options by planning ahead (something so unlike me: I’m more of a spur of the moment kind of guy).

To be honest, I need a little more time to tend to the bigger picture, but I cannot ignore the space I have carved out here for almost a decade.

It’s time to step ahead.

I am looking forward to the change, and the specifics will become apparent in the coming weeks. I hope you enjoy the change of pace, as much as I will.

12/09/2024                                                                                                                      j.g.l.

 

these days

Shorter days, lower temperatures,
less daylight to accomplish what
needs to be done.
More and more artificial light
crowding our night.
These days, fewer and fewer
places to go. You still need to get
there, even if it is only home.
What awaits you?
Are you in a rush to arrive, or
can you take it slow?
Do you have choice?
Only you can know.

© 2020 j.g. lewis

 

December 6, 1989

Thirty years ago, 14 women were killed because they were women.

Read that again, in case you didn’t feel the impact:

35 years ago, 14 women were killed because they were women.

In Canada: in Montreal: thirty years ago, on this day.

December 6, 1989.

École Polytechnique. The Montreal Massacre.

It was more than a mass shooting.

I remember.

The world changed that day.

It has not changed enough.

I will not take up space today to spit out my thoughts on gun control or public safety.

I will not criticize today, here, those who continue to exhibit such blatant disregard for my fellow human beings, or the hypocrisy and/or misogyny of those people, or politicians, or corporations who try to hide behind flimsy excuses and transparent policies of diversity and inclusion. Or those who do not do enough to enforce, enhance, and encourage respect in the workplace, our communities, or countries.

Today is not my day for that. 

In Canada, today is National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women. 

It is a day for remembering the event, yes, but more so remembering the vital lives of the women who were hunted down and killed by a single man.

Today  — as I do each year on the anniversary of this senseless tragedy — I will repeat the names of the 14 women whose lives were snuffed out by hatred, gender discrimination and attitudes which have prevailed in the years since.

Our daughters, sisters, mothers and lovers face these injustices each day, in a country that prides itself on a satisfying and sufficient way of life.

Violence against women is still here, it is systematic, and it is wrong. We all know it.

The lives of the women killed, not their deaths, must remain an example. I dislike the popular term ‘Legacy of pain’, but I still feel it.

These names must never be forgotten:

Geneviève Bergeron
Hélène Colgan
Nathalie Croteau
Barbara Daigneault
Anne-Marie Edward
Maud Haviernick
Maryse Laganière 
Maryse Leclair 
Anne-Marie Lemay
Sonia Pelletier 
Michèle Richard
Annie St-Arneault
Annie Turcotte
Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz

 

My heart goes out to the families, friends, partners, and loved ones who grieve for these significant women.

I grieve with you.

12/06/2024                                                                                                                                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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All You Can Hope For

Posted on May 27, 2015 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

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I have five favorite words. Individually, each is strong. Together, in any order, in any amount, they are powerful.

Inspiring.

Life-affirming.

peace
faith
hope
love
trust

Five words; words worth waiting for . . . or searching for, fighting for,
or hoping for.

For many years, the words had become a mantra of sorts, my mythos; so to speak. Not so much an incantation, but more of a statement, or laundry list, of words I believed in.

Then, it seemed, I didn’t.

A few years back, in frustration mainly with myself, the word hope lost its power. By circumstance or consequence, I lost my ability to communicate authentically. My words, my thoughts, my actions and aura, were not connecting, as they should have. I didn’t realize this until it was far too late.

I went numb. I settled into a pattern, and hope never once gave me a nudge. Without hope you are hopeless. I wasn’t. So, I removed the word hope from my vocabulary. It seemed like the right thing to do, at the time.

It came to me at the wrong time, but I realized there is nothing to hope. Hope it is a useless word. Unlike the other four words, hope has no substance. You can know peace, you can feel love, you learn and earn trust, and you can find faith. But all you can do is hope for hope, and that itself says something.

Hope keeps you wondering, hope keeps you waiting, and hope keeps you thinking. There is no resolution in the thoughts hope provokes. You just keep hoping, and that is wrong. Or it certainly isn’t right.

There is nothing tangible to hope. Hope is wishy-washy.

Hope does nothing but prolong pain, anger, or insecurity and fear. Hope, eventually, does little more than create doubt and disappointment. While hope comes from euphoric thoughts or feelings, there is nothing concrete to it.

If anything, hoping creates false hope, or it seems as if that is what true hope is: false. It tends to create unsubstantiated ideals for desiring what may be, when instead you should focus on what you have or what you want.

So I stopped hoping. I began planning.

I settled into a routine I believed would accomplish my goals and remove the sadness I had encountered, simply by staying busy with my plans. And, for a while, it seemed to work. I planned, and I followed through on my plans. They were concrete, they could be adjusted, or altered, or erased. Plans were made, plans were acted on, or plans were dropped. It seemed easier when I didn’t include hope.

Hope is a difficult word; it is tenuous, at best. It lacks definition. I, then, lacked definition. I was lost, and there was no hope. I could not even aspire to hope. You can want, but it is not hope. You can dream, no, you can wish, but that is not hope.

I had stopped hoping.

What I was doing, I thought, was a far cry from hope. But, as you go, as you grow — as I evolved — I then realized you couldn’t erase hope. No matter how I continued to deny myself, hope was always there. It may not always be bright and shiny, but it reaches out, or occasionally whispers from the shadows. Perhaps it is subconscious, but as you plan, as you accomplish even in small increments, there is this bit of hope that keeps you moving forward.

You just have to acknowledge it.

Not including hope in your life is like painting a rainbow without violet; the rainbow is not complete. Life is not complete without hope.

Hope, as a word, has returned to me. I have allowed it back into my vocabulary, and into my life, though I know it never left.

I don’t think you ever lose hope, which is not its nature. Hope keeps you believing, I think hope is what drags you through the grief, or giving-up stage, and keeps you looking further ahead. Hope is the root of all planning.

The thing is, the hope you seek must be self-contained. It’s a lovely thought to hold out hope for someone else, but you don’t really have that power. Hope is internal. In the face of tragedy or despair, I think the greatest hope is how you respond to the situation, and how you deal with the aftermath. Hope is always there, in the back of your mind, or at the core of your being.

It’s when I stopped hoping, that I stopped being.

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