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

I called up a friend on Saturday. 

   I had a question that couldn’t readily be answered by Google, and with my limited knowledge or recollection of the subject matter, I could not satisfy my curiosity.

   It was while I was wondering or trying to figure this all out, that I suddenly had the idea that this certain friend may have an answer, opinion, or perspective I was looking for.

   Now, I hadn’t spoken with this friend for quite some time. She lives in a different city, and while we do keep connected with occasional cards or letters and random comments on Facebook, it has been more than five years since we’ve actually met up in person.

   Still, I felt comfortable enough picking up the phone and making contact.

   I know I surprised her with the call, and her voice was as emphatically cheery as I remembered it to be. I asked the question; we conversed over the intended topic, and I valued her opinion and her recommendations. I expressed my appreciation for her thoughts, and then we went about randomly explaining certain aspects of our lives.

   We spoke of each other’s families, upcoming holiday plans, interests and experiences, relationships, and all the stuff that friends talk about. It was the kind of conversation that seemed to pick up where it left off. We shared, in bits and pieces, what our lives were about in the moment. It is what friends do.

   How one defines a friend — especially in these days where social media uses the term so broadly — is so very subjective. In my phone call Saturday, I realized that his friendship was far more than many others. I am blessed.

   Saturday’s delightful conversation went a lot longer than I imagined it would. It also strengthened a connection that is now more than a decade old. Given that I will soon be moving, and we will soon be in the same city, I am looking forward to experiencing this friendship on a more regular basis.

   A true friend is one you can call up at random, ask questions and have answers provided with clarity and consideration. Friendship recognizes where you are but eliminates the distance.

   Friendship is the type of thing you want more of.

   A friend is more than a name and number in your address book. Friendship allows you to use that number whenever it is needed.

11/25/2024                                                                                                                                            j.g.l.

 

this journey

How do we choose to travel?
What is reliable in the rain?
What is our ultimate destination,
for this time, this journey, or
this day?
We move at the speed of life.
Depending on traffic, others
may chose to follow your path,
but not your direction.

© 2021 j.g. lewis

this season

A little cold, little wet,

a little tired and yet

I am here. Still,

full of wonder.

The morning chill leaves

little to the imagination

and much less

to hope for.

Expected, perhaps, as it

always is, this time, this

season is only what

we ask of it.

11/21/2024                                                                                                                    j.g.l.

we do not know

Continually we check the skies.

 

It is the waiting for the waiting.

 

Plans we make become plans we made.

 

Opportunities forsaken or forgotten.

 

Unfortunately, it is always the way.

 

Anxiety distracts us from the days.

 

The uncertainty goes on, unnoticed.

 

We cannot avoid what we do not know.

 

 

11/26/2024                                                                                                                                                    j.g.l.

nothing remains the same

Take comfort in where you are or

where you are going. It changes;

minute to hour, daily, incrementally

and authentically, nothing remains

the same.

The seasons, the sky, the reasons why

are altered by fate, happenstance or

attitude, longitude and latitude.

Change is certain; so too is your ability

to take it all in. Never lose the wonder.

11/24/2024                                                                                                                                    j.g.l.

cloud songs

   Consider each moment

   leading up to now. 

           Cause and effect 

        affects where you are, 

   whom you have been, and all 

         you are now.

Any possibility sustains every reality.

     To doubt is to question;

          to ask is to reply.

 

11/22/2024                                                                                                        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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Age And Experience

Posted on May 23, 2018 // 1 Comment

“I say get off your ass and get working while you can…
we’re still in our element and will go on for as long as
possible. We enjoy what we do and so do our fans.”
-Ronnie Wood firing back at internet trolls who say
The Rolling Stones are too old to rock and roll.

Age means longevity.

Ry Cooder just released a new album, his first in seven years. John Prine also has a new offering, after 13 years. Like The Rolling Stones, both of the American musicians are still in their element and, obviously, enjoy what they do.

I know I’m going to buy Cooder’s release this weekend, maybe Prine’s as well. I’ve got this thing for artists who continue making valid, substantial music. Both of these musicians have been around for a while; Cooder even played with The Rolling Stones before Ronnie Wood even joined the band.

Far from resting on their laurels, these musicians get off their ass and did what they love to do. They are working while they can. The Stones are touring the UK this year, Cooder is also back on the road (he’s even playing Toronto next month).

All of these musicians are all in their seventies. Who, really, is going to say that’s too old?

I haven’t bought the last couple of Stone’s releases. I don’t own all of Cooder’s albums either, but I’ve got many of the 17 studio albums the guitarist’s catalogue (1979’s Bop Till You Drop remains my favorite).

We’ve all got our favourite bands and artists. At some point in our lives a song, or an album, found its way into our heart, and we continued listening. As they aged, so did we. Some of those musicians have since left this planet, but their music lives on.

Isn’t it wonderful that some of those players who managed to capture our imagination still do? The same spirit that keeps the players playing, keeps us listening to the music.

Talent, creativity, or musicianship, has nothing to do with age. In fact, in so many cases, it improves with age and experience. Five years ago I watched Paul McCartney live, at age 70, and without even using the phrase ‘for his age’, he was amazing.

McCartney is a senior citizen, and surely lives through many of the ailments that come with age, but it doesn’t stop him. He still has a rock and roll attitude, like The Stones and many of his contemporaries.

Pete Townsend has not let his hearing problems stop him. Bob Dylan has all but stopped playing guitar because of arthritis, and Eric Clapton, who suffers from nerve damage, admits he has slowed down and has had to adjust his style. But he hasn’t stopped playing. His most recent take on the blues (2016’s I Still Do), sounds dirty and gritty, and oh-so-sweet. No, it is not the playing as it was decades earlier, but it is strong and identifiable as pure Clapton.

What it comes down to is, the musicians we admire, or worship, are just regular human beings, like the rest of us. They too get old.

Yes, there are scads of younger musicians who continue to introduce new styles and sounds, but rock and roll is no longer about youth, but about proof. Talent always wins out, and over time that talent needs to be appreciated.

Ageism has no place in music, or art, or theatre. . . or society for that matter.

Questioning The Questions

Posted on May 16, 2018 Leave a comment

Anyone else notice how much harder it has become to take politics seriously?

I’m not sure exactly when things started to shift, but we, more and more, are nominating and electing candidates who could hardly be considered wise, or appealing; or even qualified.

It doesn’t seem to matter where the election takes place, but more often than not there is a candidate inspired by, or modeled after, the still-startling and successful run for the presidency of the United States.

The not-so-recent election of Donald Trump has done so little to move society’s collective wisdom forward. What it has done is, somehow, given any windbag with money and opportunity a chance to buy their way into the leadership of a political party, and then proceed to insult the electorate with visions, ideals, and explanations that cannot be supported by logic.

An election campaign is underway now in Ontario where a ruling government with years in office is fighting for more time to keep doing what they are doing. The party and the platform both carry baggage, questionable tactics, and shameful examples of ineffectiveness, but (for the most part) there is some sort of a formulated plan on how they will do what they intend to do.

It’s an interesting dilemma here as the incumbent with 15 hard-fought years of political experience is being forced to defend platforms against a candidate who clearly has no idea of policy and procedure. What he is doing, day after day — even before the writ was dropped — is trying to appeal to populace issues (those which wrangle us the most) by promising to halt, or make clever changes to the way things are done.

There is no quantifiable plan of action to this approach.

It has to be noted that Trump’s campaign platform also had few, if any, solid, thought-out, examples. It was all threats and promises. Sadly, it worked.

Sadly, this it is now a ‘steps to success’ ideology that will continue to gain momentum.

The electorate deserves more.

You cannot — or I might better say ‘should not’ — simply offer, with a wink and a smile, platitudes and promises. To do so is an affront to the people, the process, and democracy itself.

Thing is, people eat it up. How else can you explain the fore-mentioned president?

We have become too accustomed to 140 to 280 character messages delivering information and news that matters. Few people are going further to read, or further to see.

Even more interesting is how pundits and the press continue to rely on polls to form the direction, and the content, of the issues and coverage the public is presented with.

It’s pretty easy to see, given past results in pretty much any jurisdiction, that opinion polls are not even close to accurate. Yet, in the need to fill the vacuous 24-hour news cycle, it is what is most discussed, or a politician’s windy reaction to it.

In both traditional and social media, there is too much time to fill, and too much space for parties and pundits to manipulate the message.

It is hard to get answers when we are mainly questioning the questions.

It’s a conundrum, wrapped in a dilemma, and presented as standard practice; and it has become exactly that. This is the best we are served up with.

If you are not outraged, you’re not paying attention.

mothering of love

Posted on May 13, 2018 Leave a comment

by Bryonie Wise

mothering
is the highest frequency of love
available to all beings
 
who ever
walks, swims, soars, rolls, lands here,
on earth—
 
no matter what
no matter how
no matter who
 
no matter pomp and circumstance
 
there is a simple way
to tune in
 
press one palm
to one chest
 
rest
breathe
feel
 
receive
 
the determined pounding
of a hummingbird heart
 
housed in your spacious
cage made of lovely bones
 
rest
breathe
feel
 
receive
 
mothering
is a frequency 
of 
love
available 
to 
you

 

© 2018 Bryonie Wise

Bryonie Wise is an artist, heart alchemist and daughter of nature—her life is rooted in the belief that when we come from a place of love, everything is possible. She currently resides in Toronto, Canada with her rescue doggo, Winston—to find out more or to get in touch, please visit her online at www.bryoniewise.com.

The Gardener

Posted on May 12, 2018 Leave a comment

The threat of corporal punishment was real. Legos, Star Wars, Hot Wheels cars and tracks littered the floor during playtime. I’m sure some of those Hot Wheels tracks still remain hidden around my childhood home. Childhood stories told, in my mom’s presence of course, just loud enough for all to hear. I love to watch her cringe as I tell everyone I break into a cold sweat at the sight of Hot Wheels cars.
  I can’t imagine what it would be like to be the mother of three busy boys, the youngest having cerebral palsy. She was told that he would never talk and be a productive member of society. Well, he can and certainly is, this can be attributed to Mom’s perseverance, some say stubbornness. Mom was Randy’s strongest advocate, and she is still standing up for those less fortunate.
  ‘Mother bear’ describes her perfectly; fiercely protective of her children, grandchildren, students and most recently the guests of the Barrie Out of the Cold program. She is the coordinator; firm yet fair, equal parts ‘Warden’ and warm fuzzies. A little jealousy creeps in when a few of the guests call her ‘Mom.’ This in itself, speaks to the character of this great woman, I call Mom.
  I am so proud of her and she inspires me daily. Her tireless efforts to help those around her.
  I have learned so much from her over the years, just now realizing all the seeds she has planted and all the time she has spent nurturing and yes, I needed a little pruning along the way until her effort started to bear fruit.
  I followed in her footsteps, though my path was a little more circuitous. Later she told me, she always knew I would become a teacher. I wondered why she never pushed me in that direction. Always frank, she told me I wouldn’t have been a very good teacher at the time. Of course, she was right. Perhaps, that is what makes her the mother she is, offering love, support and guidance but still allowing me to find my own way.

©2018 Jamie Forget

Jamie Forget is an elementary school teacher from Ontario. Actively involved in social justice issues, locally and globally, Jamie loves to travel and is always ready for the next adventure. Photography and poetry have become his mental health strategies of choice. You can find Jamie’s work on his blog Facebook and Instagram

Chris Riley is a photographer and filmmaker from Detroit currently in the midst of creating a documentary web series about her city’s neighbourhood rebirth. You can find more of her work at www.rileycreates.com

Synchronicity And Timeless Maternal Love

Posted on May 11, 2018 Leave a comment

by Denise McQuiston

Early memories of Motherhood, struck by tragedy and coincidence that began in Canada, shaped my views of how a mother’s love will forever guide us.

On our way to a vacation with my mom’s brother and family, my parents and I stopped to say goodbye to my Granny. My mother’s mother convinced them to leave me with her. They needed some time alone, she said. I was three years old at the time and toddlers are distracting. Later my Grammy told me she felt very strongly about me staying with her, and my parents agreed.

It was a premonition, she said.

My parents made it to their destination. My Uncle was organizing and arranging the cabin for the week and went to light the gas stove. There was a leak, and the sky in Canada became an explosion. An inferno of flames consumed my family.

Sarah, my Mother, was gone. Fire is the most painful of deaths I have heard.

The coincidence and synchronicity of Granny insisting I stay with her saved my life. She became my guardian and raised me. That was a karmic bond between us. I was her daughter’s daughter, she my Mother’s Mother; a relationship that rose from the ashes of my parent’s death in flames.

I suffered from night terrors, would awake in the middle of the night screaming and crying, I was literally drowning in the abyss. My granny would come to me. Sometimes she would read poetry, say a prayer, or play Ethel Water records for me. More importantly, she would take me outdoors to star gaze. She would name the constellations, pinpoint falling stars. She told me I could name them for my mother.

The sky became an infinite place where I began to grow from. I filled it with imagination, observations, stories, music and visions of what the future may be. I knew my Mother was listening to me up there. I began to heal. I believe a Mother’s love is greater than God.

Learning life lessons takes time, and school, people or religion are time-consuming teachers. My best friends were my best teachers. Ironically they were both named Denise! Coincidence? My granny made sure we were inseparable, and I gained so much confidence.

No matter how many years went by there was still a huge empty space blown into my psyche by Mother’s death. I had to learn to live around it. I could never fill that abyss and sometimes I would fall in.

You can heal from that loss but you never stop feeling it.

Then there was a time in life to fall in love — the happy ending to a tragic story — find a lover, get married, have children and live happily ever after. My Granny was getting older and wanted me married before she left.

So I did.

Michael entered my life, yet after we married he made it clear he really did not want children, I never had a mother, what did I know about raising Children? He was the oldest child in a large Catholic family he wanted nothing to do with babies. Well, that’s cause for divorce.

My grandparents both died about that time. When I lost my Granny it was like losing my Mother again. I became invisible to alcohol and by coincidence a colorless flammable liquid. It was another fire to consume life.

Synchronicity and coincidence give meaning to related events. It started with a phone call from my uncle in Alaska who informed me an insurance policy from my father was found after my granny’s death.

I was stunned. I was Divorced, drunk, and feeling more alone than I ever had in my life. Money from my Father’s lost insurance policy arrived 25 years after his death. I was desperate for cash, this was surreal. A Mother’s love knows no boundaries; in life or death.

After I received the money from the insurance, I was certain I should move out of town, stop drinking, and move forward in life. I think my Father would have wanted that. That seemed to be the message. I was in my late twenties now approaching my thirties. I needed to pull myself together. I would do it for the memory of my mom and dad.

Life lessons take time.

Amazing what a morning can be without a hangover. I arrived at work early and fresh, and was called to the personnel office. The Director seemed a bit confused over a woman who had called to contact me. She had contacted my cousin and found out where I had worked. She was a friend of my family and considered herself my Mother’s best friend. Beverley left her phone number with the personnel office for me to call.

Another surreal moment. I felt my Mother coming through exactly the same way my Father came through.

I called Beverly, who was indeed my Mother’s best friend, but had moved to Detroit to be married and lost contact. My Mother’s death tore her apart. Recently divorced, Beverly was forced to sell her house in Detroit. My cousin, in real estate, helped her find a small house in Spring Lake. It happened sooner than expected and she needed someone to stay in the house until her business affairs in Detroit were settled. My cousin had explained my divorce and situation and she thought I may like to move to this town. It was close to where I was now located. It looked like I was going to be able to move.

Money from my Father’s insurance money and a house from my Mother’s best friend became another major move in my life guided by coincidence.

Beverly let me stay in her home as long as I needed. She told me so many stories about my Mother that I needed to hear. My Mother’s heart and soul shined on us the time we were together. I gained a lot of pride and confidence in those six months. I felt good about myself again. Beverly was psychic and explained to me a lot about the place I called the abyss, and how I could control it and use it as an aid in my life.

Birth, fire, and death; synchronicity, timeless maternal love. The elements of growth in my life.

News of a divorce can travel far. A friend in California invited me to visit for a winter vacation. I accepted the invitation, even though my dwindling cash reserve was a concern. Sometimes you must gamble to get a pay off in life. You trust an urge to instinct. I did exactly that when I headed West to California.

It was so good to connect again with friends from Michigan. They insisted on going to Reno to the casinos. It was fun, free food and drinks and gambling. They call it beginner’s luck. I won a ton of money.

When I realized I had won enough to extend my stay in California I cashed in. It takes time to learn lessons in life. In California I studied Chinese medicine and healing. I practiced a bodywork therapy called TuiNa. I helped people heal and started my own private practice.

During this period I began to want to have a child. I was in my late thirties. Could I be someone’s Mother? Didn’t I have enough experience to know what it means?

Experience does not teach what being a Mother is; giving birth does that. I became pregnant. I was going to be someone’s Mother.

My son Vincent was born on August 14, 1993. His birth was during the Lenid meteor shower and on a Blue Moon. My Mother and Grandmother were both smiling.

I have faced many challenges raising my son. He is Autistic. California is a wildfire zone. It went from having fire seasons to having firestorms. I have learned to respect and live with fire in my life, and I know to stay out of its path. My Grandmother taught me that. It saved my life.

As life moves us forward we change. We follow the stories and the ways of our mothers, grandmothers and great grandmothers. Their love holds us together, guided by the mystery of synchronicity. Mother love is the long-standing shield that protects us.

Mother love makes this unpredictable place called Earth home. Mother love asks us to be home wherever we are under any circumstance.

© 2018 Denise McQuiston

Denise McQuiston resides in Western Massachusetts with her son and partner. Her Facebook Pages; Self Healing Movements and TuiNa Answers reflect her healing practice.

 

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