Jaime Mathis and The Words

(First printed in Gravel: A Literary Journal, December, 2018) https://www.gravelmag.com/jaime-mathis.html My lineage became fainter on April 2, 2018 when my paternal grandmother, Patricia Mae McDonald Mathis stepped out of flesh and onto the celestial trail home. These days it seems like my attention is either aimed at the farthest observable glimmer in the sky, or at the shrieking 5-year-old red giant about to supernova at my feet. But one afternoon as I stood alone on my porch, watching morning glories lifting and floating on the breeze, I clocked the fading path. There would be no more phone calls to Grandma when I found the time, no last-minute pop-ins to browse the family tree and its shoe boxes full of silver photos and frayed newspaper clippings. The line was silent. I sent her a card a week before she died, thanking her for her gift of 10 thousand dollars, given to each of the grandchildren as their inheritance. I told her that regardless of the money, I would always...

I recently read a pastor’s blog who is being billed by some papers as the “Rising Star of the Religious Left” . For a Christian, he’s pretty out there if you consider traditional voting patterns within the United States of Jesus. He’s trying to call Evangelicals off the scent of LGBTQI hating and immigrant bigotry while simultaneously consolidating a base of confused Christians that didn’t vote for Trump by letting them know they aren’t crazy.  It’s not you, it’s them, rings through loud and clear. While this is a great tactic for mobilizing support, it also continues to feed the polarization that has the US in its clutches. Me against you. Right against wrong. Hippie Jesus vs Clan Jesus. I got a degree in History back in the day and one thing I learned is that history is written by the winners. America likes to win.   And yet, the cost of being awarded the chance to write the history of this land is much higher than most folks might be ready to stomach. Th...

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 ...