Homeward Bound

On the GO train. Heading to Toronto. Specifically The Danforth. I’ve read the news, listened to the eye witness account, seen the videos. And it’s still mind numbing and heartbreaking. And it still makes no sense.

My immediate family and friends are safe, unharmed. No one I love has been shot. Wow. What an incredible statement that was to write. 😔

My daughter, who still lives in Toronto, is meeting me at Broadview subway, just a few blocks from where the shootings occurred, and we will walk hand in hand, grateful that we are still able to do so together. We will go to the place of incredible sadness and fill the space with as much love and healing our spirits will allow.

It’s all we can do.

But it’s something.

When I told her that I didn’t understand the world anymore this is what she wrote…

“It’s the hormones in our meat Mom and what we we’ve done to the environment. 😔 Natural rhythms have been entirely disrupted to the point of mass sickness. It makes sense. Plants can’t grow in a toxic atmosphere, neither can we.”

She has a point.

A very real one.

Humans are not healthy. Mass production of our chemically laden foods are causing us to become diseased. Cancer. Mental illness. Killing sprees. When did these things become the norm??? What the hell is going on???

Two weeks ago I decided to give up meat cuz my body is telling me it’s time. I hurt and feel unhealthy and I know my diet is largely responsible. I already feel cleaner, thinner, lighter and more alert. Kinda scary. But I’ll write about that another time. I have just arrived in Toronto.

I’ll write more soon.

Namaste 🙏🏽🌼❤️

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Strong. Beautiful. Community.

My phone exploded with messages from friends and family telling me of the horror. I had barely been at work an hour when the texting began.

Slowly a first. A then a flood of concern and inquiry.

“Is everyone at Home alright?” They asked.

“I think so. Why? What’s happened?” I had no idea.

“Turn on the TV!” They replied.

I found the remote.

It didn’t take long.

It was everywhere.

A lone gunman had walked down a stretch of street as familiar to me as the back of my hand and opened fire.

An 18-year-old girl. Dead. Executed when she tripped and fell while trying to run away.

A 10-year-old girl. Dead. Succumbed to her injuries later in hospital.

Just like that. Bang. Bang.

Two precious lives taken.

And the ripple of shock was immeasurable.

My breath stopped.

My stomach clenched.

I felt ill.

And then I cried.

The brutality was so cruel. The meanness so deliberate. The loss so unnecessary.

This, not only in the city I was born, but in the neighborhood I’ve called Home for more than 40 years. On a festive and familiar stretch of street I’ve lived on and laughed on and cried on and loved on since an age I can’t remember.

The Danforth of Greek Town.

A street I’ve walked countless times with family and friends, and my own precious child. Moments and memories treasured and immortalized in the very pavement now stained with the blood of this unprecedented, senseless killing.

He just walked. Stopped. Turned. And without warning, shot into the face of innocence. Over and over. Killing the peaceful trust of my community. My neighborhood. My family.

No one will ever be the same.

He’s dead, this nameless shooter. This bastard who felt it his right to destroy and take the lives of others. His lifeless body found in some back alley. Self-inflicted or maybe the police? Who knows? Who cares? Doesn’t really matter. Even if he had lived, he took something that could never be given back with an unsatisfactory explanation.

Though were I Her mother, I’d want one.

These acts of rage and hatred and cowardice are becoming far too random and are happening far too often. We are so much better than this! I don’t understand what is happening anymore in this world, or why. And I’m so saddened and incredibly fucking pissed off that this is something the children of today have to understand, accept and survive.

This kind of shit is their future.

It’s so unfair.

So fucking unfair.

I’m going to visit Toronto tomorrow. A trip planned before this awfulness occurred. And I will visit my Danforth community and pay somber homage to the loss and shattered lives so deeply affected by this senseless killing and terrorization. I will see familiar faces in pain and they’ll all ask, “Why did this happen?” And I will wonder, just like them, at the needless cruelty of people.

I will walk that stretch of familiar street with a very sad and very heavy heart, and it will hurt my soul to see and feel the pain of confusion and disbelief and anger I know I will find in the aftermath of such inexplicable madness. But I will leave as much love and healing energy behind as I possibly can in the hopes that it will help the familiar and unfamiliar faces of the people and the place I lovingly, happily and faithfully call Home.

Toronto’s Danforth.

Strong. Beautiful. Community.

We will survive.

❤️

Battlefield

I stand at the edge in despair. Dejected. Confused. Alone. A sullen spectator to the fading magnificence of my literary world. Ravaged and ruined by the conflict of rules contained within simple words of caution. A lone witness to the power in the invisible placement of intentional boundaries.

I move. I shift. I aimlessly drift. Wide-eyed and helpless, I circle the perimeter. Careful not to disturb the susceptible surface of this unforgiving ground. I know the explosive consequence of misstep. I want. I feel. I am bursting. But I have no syllabary with which to translate my anxiety.

I see them out there. In the field.

My words.

The soldiers of my thoughts. Deliverer of my emotions. Protectors of my heart. Of my soul. Dueling and jousting. Bleeding and crawling. Fighting their way through the stifling oppression of the unimagined mind. Racing to reach Me. Fierce in their determination to Be. Certain of their right to exist. Within. Me.

And they are correct.

The violent passion. The desperate brokenness. The blinding love. The debilitating hurt. The exultant joy. The immaculate, beautiful messiness. This is the stuff that fuels my muse. The responsive sensations that inspire me to write. And to write well I need their wild abandon to corse through my blood and stir the sensitive tremor in my hand.

I see them out there. In the field.

My words.

And they are correct.

I need them. Unequivocably.

And all the frenzied intensity that inspires them into life.

Writer. Artist. Lover.

I thrive in the emotional spaces. Between.

There is no other way.

Loss

It’s been a while. I know. Life has gotten simpler and yet much more complex. My priorities are changing, and mostly now, by my design. And I am finally beginning to fully embrace the intellection of loss.

A walk gently into the night is not exactly how I would describe this figuring out. This understanding. This learning to live with the acceptance of such a painful truth. But life has offered me no recourse. So here I am. Accepting.

People leave.

They leave. And it hurts. A lot.

By abandonment.

Or death.

And honestly, having experienced both on such fundamentally profound levels, I’m really not sure which is more painful.

There are so many things I don’t understand when it comes to love and loving. Perhaps I never will. But I do know that my heart is not the kind of heart that loves and forgets. Once touched by a sweet gentleness, a genuine kindness, or a passionate kiss that bruised my lips, the memory imprints and lingers. Forever.

Mine will always be a heart devastated by loss. Friends. Family. Lovers. Even gone, they still remain. Anchored to my soul, woven into the fabric of our connection, ever deep in my thoughts, always lingering, intricate to each beat and each breath of my life.

Yes. I love deep.

And it breaks me.

Often.

Yet still, my hope lives. Between the beats. And clings to the last breath of unspent love.

But people leave.

They leave. And it hurts. A lot.

By abandonment.

Or death.

And honestly, I’m really not sure which is more painful.

All I know is that each time it happens

It’s so heart-wrenchingly sad

To feel the lingering loss

In the goodbye.

Fellowship

Found this today…

Way too relate-able right now.


I feel lonely. Like 98% of the time, I feel like I’m missing some connection with someone. I shouldn’t feel this way. I have friends. I have family. I am online and have online friends. But I constantly feel alone. I feel like I’m not understood, and it’s not like I blame anyone, because I […]

via Why Do I Feel So Lonely…? — Acquiescent Soul

Internal Dialogue #2

Walt Whitman once wrote, “I contain multitudes.”

One of his most poignant verses reminds us that we are never just one thing, and all the quirks, imperfections, and contradictions are par for the course. Never have I found anything to be more true.


These past 10 days have been full. Fuller than any other 10 in nearly as many years. I have been stung by old words, hurt by forgotten pain, challenged by new beliefs and blessed by the coming together of a Heavenly Ask.

One day, 10 days ago, I got down on my knees and cried. A deep, wrenching, private cry full of despair and anguish and hopelessness. I’ve cried this cry before. But this time it was different. My heart had finally hit the threshold of  weight it could carry and it was more than I believed it could bare. Suicide was more than a thought. I can not lie. It loomed. Large but silent. And I wondered if maybe it was truly time to just end things.

My. Life. Had. Finally. Become. Just. Too. Much.

But, as has happened before, once again, the tiny voice of my broken child stamped her foot loudly and yelled, “No Trish! We can do this! We deserve so much more. And we haven’t done what we were put here to do yet. We have a purpose! And we still have a fucking best seller to write. Damn it!” She gets pissy when I go dark.

So, as I have done before, I listened to her.

But something inside felt badly broken. And solemnly irreparable.

I’d truly lost all hope. I was tired. Worn. Ragged. Bruised. And feeling beaten.

It took a lot to let her in.

I’m not really the praying kind. Though that might change now. I have a very confused relationship with God. But I have always believed that something is looking out for she and I. And always has been. Or we would never have survived this Life.

So…on bended knees I clasped my hands.

And I spoke to God Universe.

Really spoke.

Pleading from a place so deep and so raw and so achingly real, that I know it was my souls voice in askance, and not that of this mere mortal shell. I do believe we are the two things at once. Maybe even three. What the fuck do I know? But I closed my eyes. Wept. And spoke from that place only the truly desperate understand.

I asked God Universe, “Please show me my path because I am so lost and so confused and so unable to see any light. It’s dark. And cold. And I feel alone. I am drifting to a place I fear I may never return from. My heart is heavy. My mind is clouded by things I can’t let go of. And my soul and I have disconnected. So, I’m letting go of all of it and trusting that you will guide me to wherever it is I need to be and to whatever it is I need to do.”

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Three days later my life changed.

Like BIG BANG! changed.

I watched. I listened. I paid attention. And I did not ignore the signs. Any of them. I did the work and moved out of fear. And miraculously, I started to feel my power rise to the surface. It was…

Nope. No words yet for this feeling.

But I trusted. In the Divine.

And felt myself truly acknowledging belief in Me.

And that was an unfucking-believable moment. It was…

Nope. No words for that one either.

But for the first time ever, everything felt almost…easy.

Something had definitely cleared the path.

Like a cool, clean ocean breeze. Blowing through my mind with gentleness and forgiveness and love.

And over the past 10 days Life has been constantly changing and rushing at me with un-imagined abundance.

I am still in awe.

But I trust in Life again. And it is beautiful.

And I am grateful.

Coincidence? Perhaps.

But I don’t think so.

Shakespeare suggests, through his character Hamlet, that human knowledge is limited. I’d have to agree. And every moment that I spend in gratitude, I know the words he wrote are a pure, profound yet simple truth. I loved them when I first read them, and I love them still. Because they are so so true!

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” 

God Universe truly does work in mysterious and amazingly unexpected ways.

Ya…

What a difference a day makes.

24 little hours.

And a soul-spoken prayer.

In gratitude,

trish_heart


Internal Dialogue #1

Lately I’ve been feeling my personal/emotional worldview slipping from one kalidescope into another. Things I once knew with such certainty are now hovering on the fringe of doubt. And things I was absolutely positive would never be entertained by this seven dimensional mind, are springing into view lively and energetic.

In part, I am saddened by the loss of feelings and beliefs I’ve clutched close to my hearts core like a frayed and tattered lifeline. While old and definitely showing signs of age and wear, it has pushed me thru necessary conflict, always reliable and safe. And a constant companion for so long. Growing me, changing me, elvolving me and challenging me in unimaginable ways. A reliable, steadfast friend who seemed to have my best interest at heart. It’s a hard loss to comprehend.

I’m struggling.

And in part, I am excited to move into a new personal/emotional worldview because it means….

Hmm. 🤔

Nope. 

Still on the fence. 

Change does not always come easy to me.

To be continued…😶