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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More Than Being There

Posted on May 2, 2018 by j.g.lewis // 1 Comment

Motherhood is a hand-to-hand, heart-to-heart, connection formed by being there.

Two years now I have watched the most beautiful bond develop between a child, and a mother who thought she may never be. It has become so obvious that this kind of love is more than DNA.

The woman had never expressed to her family the desire to be a parent, yet she — one who always held such a tight relationship with her own mother — decided in her teenage years that motherhood was something she wanted to experience.

A single woman who had developed a successful business, she put off a lot of personal stuff as the business prospered and met goals and objectives until she decided she could not ignore her personal goal any longer.

A few years back she announced to her family the intention to adopt.

Two years ago, after all the legal and leg work that is part of the process, she got the call. Her baby had been born.

Life changes, just like that.

This child has been given a full and complete life with loving aunts and uncles, a doting grandfather, and cousins who arrived about the same time. The mother, a good friend to so many, has support beyond her close family. You hear the expression that it takes a village to raise a child, well this child was born into one happy, committed village.

The woman has also been given the complete life she was craving, and one she deserves. In the process she has changed. Perhaps not in ways immediately noticeable, as I’ve only been learning or getting to know her further through the past years, I can see the changes.

I can see the love. I can see this child becoming so much like her Mom. I see traits and habits, and similarities, as this pair adjust to each other. Adoption was only a process for realizing a relationship that was meant to be.

Motherhood is not about flesh and blood, not always. Motherhood is more than being there. Motherhood, certainly in this case, is an opportunity for learning, and for growing, and for being who you were meant to be.

Children learn by watching, intuition, and trial and error.

Mothers learn by watching, intuition, and trial and error.

Nature and nurture equal forces, we all learn by watching and experiencing life and love.

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