Jaime Mathis and The Words

Some places you love before you've even felt its wind on your face. It hollers, "Home! Welcome back! I missed you!" Iceland is breaking my soul in two. The wildness of its high, lava scattered plain, Wind and rain twirling the air until you can't tell if it's fog or hot springs or gods breathing across the land. I had a friend in Spokane back in the day, who described the feeling of intense love as "The Cheenies". Good old Beth Mort, she used to get so excited about someone that she'd experience the need to squeeze them until their head popped off. It wasn't about violence, but rather that heart rush of WOW that sometimes makes you want to collapse into the sensation of being rocked in wonder. Yep, Iceland. You are giving me the Cheenies. And it's wonderful because I'm never going to be able to tame you or hold you or even come close to owning you. All I can do is marvel at your stark mountains rolling into green valley

In the aftermath of the events in the Eld-Mathis family earlier this year, I found myself taking the last three months to come back into a sense of normalcy…or rather, to reflect and begin to integrate the lessons and well, LIFE, that happened so hard and fast. I often find that when life is at its fullest and richest, I have very little to say on the page. Of course, sensational and challenging things like brain tumors and miscarriages are very specific and immediate so they are more accessible and easily described, if not entirely absorbed at the time. But now, I am facing incredible goodness and joy…soaking in moment after moment of beauty and light and the words just…lie sleeping like a dog on a hot day. Not being able to paint a scene of my joy in the moment bothered me for many years until I realized that creativity, like breathing, has its cycles. You must LIVE and THEN write instead of expecting yourself to extrapolate an exact representation of the glory you are b