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

One year since. . . 

   The death toll rises each day in this certain uncertainty. A geopolitical conflict, its consequences spilling out across this planet and onto the streets of my city. Distanced from the direct atrocities of another war, it is more than tension we feel in the neighborhoods where we live.

   Every day the headlines speak to me. Every day there are more questions than answers.

   How many bombs?

   How many dead?

   How many prayers?

   How many times, in my lifetime, have I heard about the possibility of Middle East peace?

   I, still, can only try to understand.

   I too live with the fear, the grief, and the polarization of it all.

 

10/07/2024                                                                                                                j.g.l.

It’s not nothing

I would like to think it is nothing, at least I’d like to try. I know I can’t, but I will fool myself into believing it was less than what it is (I’m gullible that way).
   Still I know, deep down, it was more than what I was expecting. Certainly it was more than what I was prepared for.
   It’s always something; really, anything is.
   There is something in anything, worthwhile or not, that captures your imagination or sends your soul circling.
   Nothing matters then.
   It is always more than what you were counting on, even when there is nothing to compare it to.
   Always unlike anything else, you try to twist and turn it into something familiar, or something you can relate to, all the while knowing that nothing has been like that, or felt like this: ever.
   Yeah, it’s like that.
   It’s not nothing, but it can’t be everything. . . or maybe it is.

© 2017 j.g. lewis

a deeper conversation

Ever the questions, 

no response, until now. In the wake 

of all that happened all that time ago; 

even recently, as details were 

unearthed convincingly.

Negligently we accept responsibility 

for secrets and sins unacknowledged.

The government, the Church, 

the children. The shock of it all. 

Tears now stain history books. Truth.

A deeper conversation. 

We talked about it, yesterday.

Too long society, 

more specifically “we”, have turned

a blind eye to ways of a world 

we thought we never knew.

Lord knows what they were thinking 

and did nothing.

 

10/01/2024                                                                                                             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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the meaning of love

Posted on June 16, 2024 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

It has been almost ten years since my father’s passing. While memories are not as swift as they once were, they are solid.

   My dad always seemed to have a purpose and set an example for his three children. He was professional, an accountant, dedicated to a strong work ethic. Community service was important to him, and he served on many boards, at the church, and could always be counted on to volunteer with any of the sports organizations his active children were involved with. 

   Keith Lewis was a good father, a good friend, and trusted confidant to his partners, associates, and those within his ever-expanding social circle. Admirably, he counted among his friends a group of men he established relationships in his college days. He was a loving husband; that was never a doubt.

   He was always there for his children, though I never fully realized how much pride he seemed to take in fatherhood. He was not overly expressive about his feelings (I believe it was a generational thing) but subtly showed love in ways that he was able to. 

   He was human and, flaws and all, recognized I was human too.

   As I grew older, and then became a father myself, I realized more and more that lessons, morals, and virtues that he was trying to teach us through his actions were both valuable and purposeful. I did not respect the lessons then as I do now and, I suppose, never thanked him properly for the wisdom, knowledge, and the meaning of love he instilled in me.

   We had our differences (it was a generational thing) and there were periods of silence as I never fully understood, or accepted, those differences. I was not rebellious . . . just silent.

   Despite what I wanted to believe at the time, the man put his family first. He was a provider and I never wanted for anything. He was happy in his role. Only now do I realize his happiness in the role of father and provider.

   His death, almost a decade ago, was unexpected (or not anticipated), and came at a time when I was searching for answers I can only now find in memory.

   I am thinking of my dad today and how blessed I was to have a father like him. It was not always easy for me to express my love, but I know it was there.

   I am still feeling that love.

   Happy Father’s Day.

06/16/2024                                                                                            j.g.l. 

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