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 . . .
Gentle thoughts, harshly
written on whatever
scrap of paper available.
This is your life.
This is an attempt to
make sense or make do
with the scattered bits of
information that float
to the surface of a
What is of one’s concern
need not translate into a
narrative easily understood
by others. You may not
fully comprehend its true
meaning yourself, at least
not in one sitting.
Give yourself the time.
You need to find the clarity
you need. A daunting task…
you need not ask for any
opinions from others, Each
of us sees things differently.
Today I sit with a stack of blank holiday cards in front of me, and a dog-eared address book full of names, phone numbers and/or addresses from across the globe.
The names are familiar, and the extent to which I know each person varies in time and in depth. Yet, with each name, there is a friendship shared but not acknowledged as often as it should be.
A Christmas card allows me an opportunity. I will write messages of varying length to the people on my list to acknowledge the season as well as the person.
The true meaning of friendship goes beyond words.
I'm like a pencil;
Still I write.
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
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logical and chronological
I grew up listening to music. It wasn’t really a choice.
My mother always had the radio turned on, or a record on the turntable. In our home it was her soundtrack that would set the mood of the day. Often I would hear her wonderful voice singing along; she could really belt it out. She was a mother who knew that music was best played at a decent volume.
Most of the time it was the big band music of her youth, and she was especially fond of Sinatra, but Mom would continually pick up popular records of the day and keep up with the times. The copies of The Beatles Blue and Red albums, that I now own, both have her signature boldly written on the front cover as if she was staking claim to the music.
Her tastes were wide and wonderful. I enjoyed some of the sounds, others took me years (or decades) to fully appreciate.
The point is, my mother exposed me to music, encouraged me to listen, to learn, and even to perform (she actually allowed a set of drums into the house). Heck, she even bought me a few albums (of my choice) before I had a job to support my habit.
A love of music was something we shared. It is a hobby/passion/obsession that continues today, long after my mother has passed on.
Mothers do this, and not just with music. It’s your mother who will probably notice your interest in something when you were a kid. It is a mother who will encourage you to take it further. It could be dance, or drama, reading, or hockey, but chances are the hobbies you enjoyed when you were young were supported by your mother.
It really doesn’t matter what that hobby was, what mattered was that your mother gave you a chance to discover, and to explore, an interest. In that way, it did matter.
Thanks Mom, I’ve still got the music in me.