A few weeks ago, I checked out Ellen DeGeneres’s website on a whim. When I saw that she takes audition videos for being her correspondent to awards ceremony red carpets, I played with it in my mind. What would I
On the Occasion of Getting the Results of a Biopsy
a poem by Jene’ Jackson
I lifted my eyes to the sky
after hearing “all clear”
at a dreaded follow up
To see two hawks
circling
between contrail X’s hallways
I’ve spent the morning fiddling with the Church of Wild YouTube channel, creating playlists and adding videos from the last couple of years. We’re smack in the middle of the Read-Aloud journey, where I’m reading The Oat Project out loud
It’s been an INTENSE year here in Jene’-land. Over the last two years, via hard as hell work in therapy for the first time in my life, I’ve finally begun to work through early trauma, my mother’s death, and gotten
Because it is where The Church of Wild began,
because I want to face who I used to be,
because I hope my journey can help even one person be braver,
because I want you to be able to listen
Today marks six years since my mom died and the world became a little less bright. Every year, on her birth and death days, I do my best to honor her in one way or many.
When I walked into
I’m having a weird relationship with my books lately. I have many, many books. I had many books before my mom died, and then I got most of hers, and now I have even more. And they’re great books. I
I keep hearing weather forecasters, newspeople, and public officials warn residents in the path of Hurricane Irma with words like, “This is as real as it gets!” “This is the real deal, people!”
And the thing is…why would we think
One year ago today, I gave my first political speech. The whole story is here.
It kicked off a juggernaut of a year, in which I ended up a national delegate representing thousands of Coloradans in Philadelphia (read about the
Four years ago yesterday, my family and I stood in an Arkansas ICU hospital room where my brother fought for his life. On the way back from burying my mother in a Tennessee graveyard, my brother and his wife were