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 October 31, 2016 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

will

I took a walk yesterday. I came up with some excuse that I needed to go shopping for something, so I went out. I probably didn’t need what I thought I needed, not right then, but I went out anyway.
  It was a reason to get away from what I should have been doing. I’ve got a lot to do, and I believed a full and free Sunday would allow me the time to make a good dent. I need to make some progress.
  But, from the moment I woke, I allowed myself to do a few other things. These were things I also needed to get done, but they were things I could do anytime. I did them anyway.
   I was procrastinating.
  I do that sometimes. I find an excuse to put off projects and I know I shouldn’t, but I do anyway. That’s pretty much the dictionary definition of procrastination, and yesterday fit the exact description.
  I strolled towards my intended destination. I almost stopped for coffee but avoided the delay (another word for procrastinating). As I walked, and as I looked, I began to take notice of the graffiti that smears the city. Often I will stop and photograph the bits and pieces that catch my eye. Sometimes they will appear in this space as a daily breath; little thoughts that get me thinking.
  Sometimes the messages are strong, almost a sign.
  “The will must be stronger than the skill.”
  This graffiti hit home.
  I know what I have to do, and I’ve got what it takes to get it done. I have less time to do it in (especially after wasting much of yesterday), and still I put it off. I can’t figure out why.
  I have the skill, but have I lost the will?
  If you want to do something, to accomplish anything, you’ve got to keep pushing. You have to be able to put off all the distractions and indulgences (and excuses), and forge ahead with your intended purpose.
  It takes willpower, more than skillpower.
  So I took the writing on the wall to heart and I turned around. I never made it to the store to get whatever I thought I needed. I sat down and got back to work on my project, and I got it done.
  Well, I didn’t actually complete what I started, but I will.
  Willpower.
                                                                            j.g.l.

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