Jaime Mathis and The Words

The space between me and the end of this 500-mile pilgrimage. The calm between skin diving into waves rippling my uterus down and a new human breathing air. The last time I took his face in my hands. The second before I forgot who I was and now.  It’s nothing and nowhere between two points, just a firing of lightning and elements fornicating in my brain. But it seems so real. Realer than the hangnail that tore white from pink skin, got infected, and screamed at touch. Realer than her black rimmed stare that sneered my 8-year-old heart into the corner. Realer than the cardamom main line from chai to nose on November mornings. Realer than the “F” I will receive if I write instead of read.  It’s just time and space, memory getting confused with all the parallel universes. But it seems so true.

Disease, discontent, illness, depletion, exhaustion, pain... chronic...these are states that  many of us embody whether it shows up in ongoing or acute health challenges, addictions, mental disturbances, existential crisis, or an undefined sense of something being not quite right. We are depressed, anxious, overweight, lonely, hypertensive, apathetic, disconnected, and discouraged.  What is going on? Why are so many of us sick and tired and unable to feel well? In my experience, these many faces of imbalance and diminished vitality are visible across political, racial, economic, and gender lines. As a systems thinker and big picture explorer, I am constantly looking for the path that connects the dots between seemingly disconnected proofs of an internal world in flux. As much as we have been taught to pop a pill or buy a product to soothe a symptom from headache to feeling frumpy, the quick fix never lasts because we do not live in a vacuum. We are, like trees, deeply...

IMPRINT Mother crouches in darkness, Head on her knees, Blood dripping down Washing toilet sides And a scent, Rotting life, Moss and iron Files deep within my cells Until I bleed, Moan, Clutch my womb And wonder, Why this pain? Is something broken? INCUBATION I’m driving home early, High school in the rear view, 17, Stop at Old Navy for pajamas Blood and drugs and ice cream Praying for unconsciousness Let the moon flow down Wake me when I am clean again. REPRODUCTION Arbitrary crimson clockwork 28 days, 31 days Fingers drumming against my plans, Don’t go, it’s almost time, Make sure you’re close to home, Just in case. Random trips for mac and cheese Chocolate, salt and vinegar potato chips, And always, Naproxin in tubes, pockets, Anywhere close. Now I use it, call it out, Gotta go home early, My uterus hurts. I’m liking the pain, Cocooning, my private enclave Where I can devour the world With a spoon Asleep while the movie plays out. DEVIATION Hands slide down my torso La...

Ever taken a look at your life and thought, "This could be better." Maybe it's the job you have, the attitude you embody, your personality, your finances, your body, or your relationships. Have you ever noticed that you organize your life in predictable ways that spawn predictable results? Maybe you've heard the quote by Einstein that says, " Problems can't be solved with the same thinking that created them."?  I've been pondering this alot lately, especially after my year plus of re-training my brain to come out of chronic fight or flight and into relax and thrive mode. It's a funny thing to have experienced chronic illness and fatigue for the better part of 6 years, trained the body via the brain to stop freaking out all the time so it can devote that energy to healing, and then find myself looking around going, "Ok. I'm not in panic mode anymore. What do I want to CREATE?! How GOOD can I imagine life actually being?" ...

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...

My grandmother died days after Tobias came home from the hospital. It is incredible how events like death can become supporting details when so many major life shifts happen at once.  She transitioned from body to pure spirit when no one was looking at her, in the brief moment between blinks when attention turned elsewhere and she was unobserved.  I sat with her for several hours, holding space and vigil in the days leading up to and the day of her passing.  There is power in this liminal space, watching a soul between worlds…partially in the body yet moving toward the non-physical realm. Her breath was audible and flowed through her open mouth, her eyes half open and half closed…as though she watched a show meant for her alone. And yet, it is a show we all face at some point in these bodies-perhaps there will be time to prepare, but it often plays without a minute’s notice to gather your popcorn and put your affairs in order.   The power...