Jaime Mathis and The Words

Everything was very dramatic 12 days ago. Flying around the world, discovering things growing in Tobi's brain, being pregnant, private doctors. The days following our arrival back in Portland have been decidedly anti-climactic from an external perspective and yet, like ripples on a pond post stone throw, a new life has been inexorably emerging. With Tobias' new Rules of Engagement, for example, he is exploring the relationship dynamics between public transit, the weather and his energy levels. You'd think on first glance that not driving wouldn't be SO hard, yet it reaches into so many aspects of life in these States. Of course there is the personal level of him not being able to jump in the car and just drive to the store if he forgot the cheese for a dinner recipe. There is the relational aspect which not only makes it necessary for him to ask for rides from his wife but also, his wife (me) being acutely aware of wanting to support his mobility and hence feeling

Life feels like it's speeding up--anybody else feeling this? When I say life, what I really mean is significant change. Sure, my life has had a bunch of shifts in the last few weeks, not least of which is finding out that I'm pregnant and on track to have a small babe sometime in September, but it's everywhere. Yesterday, I found out that an acquaintance died climbing Mt. Hood on Tuesday. I think about Miha a couple times a year and usually see him at the company Christmas party, we go dancing afterwards in a group, he's just a lovely, fun man. Then on Tuesday, out of the blue, his face pops to mind...a memory of us dancing after the last Christmas party and feeling like he was such a good spirit. The next day, Tobias tells me he's dead. It was like a baseball to the head. What a fucking tragedy. Full stop. Where'd that one come from? Of course people die on mountains all the time, but what are the chances of an experienced climber falling on a well estab

Sitting in Love Cafe (lion in Danish) with Tobias the morning after being told he has a brain tumor, the world is both realer and bizarre than ever. The good news of course is that it is non cancerous right now and small and easy to get to. I am thinking of it like a PAP smear where they tell you they've found irregular cells that are pre-cancerous and recommend removal or some such. On the one hand it's like "Hooray! Little brain threelesses are much better than other things that could be happening!" On the other hand it's like, "Brain threeless." In case you're wondering what the hell a threeless is, it's what we want to happen rather than the additive nature of the standard word for these things. Work it out. Just count down one and add the opposite of less. A friend asked me last year what advice I would give her father who was going through cancer, since I was a survivor and all. I'm reminded of that now.... ...in reflecting on

I am sitting in a plane flying across the globe to be with Tobias in the hospital. The light is purple outside and the setting sun paints the wings a glowing peach.  It is so beautiful I can hardly tell if my heart is beating in wonder or at what I am flying into when I land in Denmark.  My intuition tells me it is both.  In the last 72 hours Tobias has had a seizure that left him unconscious and without a front tooth after hitting his head and face in the fall.  Scans have revealed something that is as yet, undiagnosed. In the last 9 hours I have packed myself, gotten Espen situated with my wonderful sister Jackie and her family and boarded a plane. In the midst of this flurry of action and rapid choice making, feelings flow like melting glaciers. There are questions—What do I say to Espen so he knows I need to go the Denmark and that he is safe? How do I step into this unknown and keep my heart open, my mind clear and my body healthy? What does it mean to be