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

comes at a cost

those who have already paid

the process

takes time

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
other times
dull or
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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The Screen Has Edges; Our World Does Not

Posted on August 10, 2016 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment


There are opinions, thoughts, and people beyond this simple screen.

Voices travel through the gravity-defying glass and steel skyscrapers, and swiftly across the streets of sweet suburbia built over farmlands and ancient burial grounds serviced by the multi-lane highways butting up against old-growth forests.

Lessons are found on the sidewalks amongst the gypsies, punk rockers, tattooed love children and well-heeled pensioners, as much as they are in education’s hallowed halls or the food courts and washrooms of cash-strapped shopping malls.

Like a breath, wisdom is found in the breeze — most times gentle — and travels through us all, picking up the scent of humanity and carrying the emotions we live with day after day. These words are honest, and forthright; pollen for poets, snack food for thinkers, and dreams for disenchanted youth.

There is an attitude that cannot be denied, and there is a new place to find these thoughts.

The Urban Howl will capture the mood of the moment, expressing ideas and desire of those who, like us, want something more than what is dealt out by politicians, franchised into mediocrity, and allocated by a society that has lost its way.

Are we dreaming? Hell yeah, but isn’t that what this life is all about?

So much is happening in this vast virtual world. For months now we’ve been waiting for the stars to align, the right phase of the moon, and for the clock to stop ticking. We’ve been transforming as we wait, while the world changes, as it does, and as it always will be.

We want to capture that change, acknowledge not only what is happening, but also what can happen. It can happen right here.

The Urban Howl offers a platform for hope, for knowledge, and for curiosity. It is as open-minded as it is open to interpretation. There are no boundaries to this community, and writers and readers from across this big blue planet are welcome to participate. Come and join us on the frontline of a new magical paradigm.

The screen has edges; our world does not.
© 2016 j.g. lewis

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