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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Lonely Roads #1

Not sure what it is about traveling on the bus that makes me feel so nostalgic. Perhaps, because a good part of this life has been spent on buses traveling from one life to another. One family to another. One lover to another. Seeking identity. Searching for kindness. Wanting love. Moving in between the grays of safety and abuse.

Feels like I’ve been doing this a long time. Chasing a thing. Running from a thing. A lonely traveler carrying a bag packed with little pieces of me. Faithfully transient. A contemplative companion to the lonely roads I see through rainswept windshields.

Aware always.

Of the sadness that travels with me.

And the life I never lived.


Bus blues? Maybe.

But it’s a thing.

Today.