I looked at my stepfather. It was like I was seeing him for the first time. He stood there in my bedroom door with his arms crossed, trying to look intimidating and doing a very good job of it. He was a slight man, but he thrived on fear.
“Where am I going to go?” I asked, trying to make sure that my voice sounded rebellious and brave but it conflicted with the hot feeling of absolute fear that was in the pit of my stomach.
“I don’t care where you go. You just need to get out of here. You can’t abide by my rules, do what I say, you need to leave. This is no longer your home.”
I had rebelled too late in life. Normally, you rebel in your early teens, but I was too busy with my nose in a book, playing the good son. It was what came naturally to me. Eventually though, I yearned for freedom and my actions started to show that: staying out late, not following rules, destroying bridges to find my own way. I was seventeen. I had left one home a year earlier, and I was being asked to leave another.
He stood there glaring at me. He motioned towards my belongings. “Go on, fill a bag and get out.” He threw my purple backpack on to my bed, and it landed looking like a gaping mouth, waiting to be filled.
“So, that’s it? We’re not going to talk about this? Where the fuck am I going to go?”
“I don’t care where you go just as long as its not here,” he said.
I wondered how one person could hold themselves so tightly. It’s a wonder my stepfather didn’t just crack into a handful of pieces and fall to the ground. He had never hit me, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t hurt me. It would take me a long time to discover the scars that he had left on my skin.
I knew where I would go. I had no choice if I was to have shelter tonight. I shoved some clothes, my alarm clock, a few books and my toiletries into my bag. It looked plump and full of promise as opposed to the gaping hold it had been before. I wondered if what I had gathered would sum up my entire life, but I knew they wouldn’t. I took my time, thinking that he would relent. I should have known better; once he made up his mind about something, my stepfather’s mind could not and would not be changed.
I went around the house gathering the other things that I wanted to take with me: a handful of talismans, and my tarot deck. I made sure to never be without that. I gathered it to me and held it for a moment finding comfort in the faded velvet of the bag and the wisdom that it held. I placed those in my bag and stood in front of the door. My mother stood like a silent spectre. She had tear marks that had stained her cheeks. I tried to communicate everything that I couldn’t say because of the rage that filled me at the moment, and she nodded. I knew that she understood the words that she could see in my eyes for they mirrored her own.
“You have your shit, quit stalling.” He said. He had followed me down the stairs as if I were some sort of burglar instead of his stepson.
“Can’t I say goodbye to my mother?”
“You’ve had plenty of opportunity to do that.”
I ignored him and went to my mother, took comfort from her arms that wrapped around me and squeezed, trying to communicate so much without words. I could feel her shaking and tried to remain calm so that she would know I would be okay.
“Okay, enough pleasantries,” he said. “Get out. Get the fuck out of my house.”
He very nearly pushed me out into the hot summer night. I felt the air almost pushed me down the steps as he slammed the door behind me.
We hadn’t spoken a lot since he had been kicked out of home. Truthfully, we hadn’t spoken a lot before that either. There was a wedge between us, even then. Looking at us, you wouldn’t be able to see it, but we felt it. It was a physical presence in our lives. I’m not sure it we put it there to keep us safe, or if my parents placed it between us for our safety.
I was still living at home. My brother had been kicked out for stealing, or getting into a fight, or mouthing off. My brother was a rebel, and I don’t think he knew how much I looked up to him. He’s my older brother by fifteen minutes. I joke about how my order was fucked up and I ended up with him, as if having him in my life is some kind of mistake.
The truth that I’ve been coming to terms with lately is that I didn’t talk to my brother often enough in the end. We existed in two different worlds. We had our own language growing up, but now, we don’t even speak to each other. The irony isn’t lost on me.
I don’t know what he did to end up in the shelter, but at least he was staying somewhere this time. Normally, he just disappeared, and I didn’t hear from him. It felt like a piece of me was missing. He would come back eventually, he always did. It was those times that I was left on my own that I was most afraid. My brother had a way of looking at life that I admired. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to.
To me, it looked like my brother was free.
I know that this isn’t completely true. He was free spirited, but there were secrets he carried, too. We may have had an ocean of unspoken words that swam between us, but he had grown up in the same house I did. I went within and Robert would explode outwards, his actions and interests his way of escaping and speaking without words.
I remember phone call. My father and stepmother had been out. Robert knew when they would be at work. I remember his voice on the phone and it sounded like him, but calmer. Hearing his voice was like a breath of fresh air in the cloud filled world which I lived in. His voice parted the smoke and fog that surrounded me. If I remained in the fog, I wouldn’t be seen. Hearing Robert’s voice made me want to be seen again.
“Come on over and see me,” he said. I remember this part, but not how I found the shelter or if I looked up the address first. I don’t remember how I got there, but I do know that I went to find him. I remember the blue drawer, the darkness within the room punctuated by a single light.
I remember Robert gathering the tarot cards off the floor. I don’t even remember if this is true, or if he had the cards gathered in his hand. I remember seeing flashes of colour and the hieroglyphics that covered the card backs.
“Someone gave these to me,” he said. “I think they’re meant for you, Jamie.”
I remember taking the cards and the book that was falling apart. They had been loved, these cards, whether by him or someone else. I wasn’t sure how he had come by them, but I knew that I was more than intrigued. I didn’t have the words to describe what I was seeing yet. Those words would come eventually, but for now there were the pictures.
Robert had given me a copy of The Ancient Egyptian Tarot by Clive Barrett. Robert had been the one to find the first Ankh that I wore. I wore an ankh all the time as a teenager, and he knew how much I loved anything Egyptian. I remember flipping through the cards, wondering what kind of interactive book this was to come with a set of cards.
I remember taking the book out and reading it on the bus back home. I would take the cards out again when I was alone, but for now, I read what I learned was the guidebook and let Clive tell me a story. I thought what it must be like living in a shelter or on the streets. It seemed a tough way of living, but Robert was free in a way.
I had no idea that a few years later, I would learn what that was like firsthand.
I don’t like a lot of nudity in the tarot decks that I use.
It kind of bothers me when The Star and The Lovers in the RWS Tarot have people who are nude. For some reason, I’m not bothered by the naked bums in the Judgement card. It sort of bugs me when I look at the Devil card, but not really. I mean, that card kind of makes it look as if the two people kind of asked for it, you know?
The four Aces of the Sirena Tarot.
I’m not against nudity at all, I just find it distracting when you’re trying to connect with a card and you’re confronted by different body parts and genitals (sometimes bigger than they need to be). I’m supposed to be connecting to spirit, not wondering if I should ask the gentleman out for a drink or giving him a fiver.
I know that the nudity represents a vulnerability that we’re supposed to vibe with, and I’m supposed to be vulnerable, too, or at least reflect on what it feels like when I’m totally and completely myself. The fact that certain people within the tapestry of a tarot deck are nude or partially nude is a given, but I usually find myself looking away from the nudity out of respect. I feel like I’m catching them in a moment when they would rather be left alone.
Which is why I’m so surprised by the Sirena Tarot.
I love the decks created by Jens Friborg so much. He’s creator of the Tarocchi Tarot, both the regular edition and the vintage edition. I have the vintage edition and love it so much. When I saw the Kickstarter for The Sirena Tarot pop into my email, I went to look right away and backed it without looking at the photos. All I knew was that it would be amazing quality and beautifully done. After backing the deck, I went to look at the video he had prepared to introduce and was the deck and was met with mermaids.
My favourite cards in any tarot deck.
I looked through the cards he had posted as part of the campaign and found that the nudity didn’t bother me so much as captivate me. I mean, mermaids have always been naked in some way, open to the elements of the water and the sea. In fact, they can experience all the elements of the earth and Jens Friborg does such a remarkable job showing this in his cards.
I was surprised that the nudity didn’t bother me. There are humans, sea creatures and other beings that people this deck and all of them are naked in some way. The Sirena Tarot didn’t just ask me to confront myself and the emotions I carry (the waters full to the brim with emotions), it asked me to take a look at the fact that the body, be it human or merfolk, is beautiful. It asked me to take a deep gaze into the pools of water and look at my own preconceived notions of my own body.
The thing about this deck is that it does this in such a beautiful way. The colours are all softly muted but still so alive. There is a ton of nudity in this deck, both human and otherwise, but none of it is shocking or over the top. Instead, it’s a beautiful representation of bodies and the third time I was going through the cards, the nudity didn’t bother me at all. I could only see the beauty and symbolism that Mr. Friborg worked into each card.
There is so much to love about this deck. The cardstock is top notch and has a light linen finish. Along with the softly muted colours, this is what makes the cards feel like they came from a time long ago. From the card backs and cardstock to the gorgeous art, it’s like we’ve pulled the deck from the sand at our feet. It feels bright and new but has an air of the ancient about the deck.
Sirena is based around the Rider Waite Smith deck and the symbolism that we’re all familiar with, however it plays around with the symbolism in other cards such as in the Nine of Swords or the Three of Swords. He’s added so much of himself into this deck and Sirena is better for it.
The different versions of Death and The Emperor.
There are also alternate cards in the deck. Usually, it’s a different card for The Lovers, but in Sirena, we’re given two alternate cards, one for the Emperor and one for Death. I know that you could choose to keep in which ever card you prefer, but I’ve chosen to keep both extra cards. I mean, sometimes Death and the change that it brings can hurt. Sometimes, the Emperor isn’t kind. I love that Sirena reflects this.
I also want to talk about the box for a second. The other decks made by Mr. Friborg come in gorgeous tuck boxes. The box for Sirena is a hard case with magnetic closure. What struck me about it the most was that, aside from the words Mr. Friborg, Sirena and Go Deeper, there are no pictures or writing on the box. You are given no impression about the deck aside from the box’s beautiful orange colour. It’s when you open the box, you realize that you are opening yourself up to world of colour and the world that Sirena contains.
The guidebook is also a piece of art in and of itself. It fits inside the box and the text is easily readable. What I loved about it is that each card is given a quote that leads into what the card is about. My favourite card in any tarot deck is the Strength card. It’s the first card I look at and it helps me to understand a lot about the tone of the deck. The quote for the Strength is: “In the dance of power, true might flows from compassion and control.” It’s such a beautiful way to bring you into the story that each card tells. I also love how it’s not about positive or negative, upright or reversal meanings. In the guidebook, you’re given the description, as well as High Polarity and Low Polarity for each card. I love the thought that was put into the meanings for each card and the look of the paper within, as if you are holding a little book that was lost within the sand.
What a world Sirena is. It’s asked me to look at myself and my body, going deeper within myself then I thought possible to look at all the different facets of my life. I’ve been asked to re-examine my own ideas of what is beautiful and that any body in its natural form is beautiful. I love it when a tarot deck can do that because the art and the message come speak so clearly. There are mysteries in the water, but you can solve them if you go deeper.
I have a love and hate relationship with the Thoth Tarot.
Back in 2013, I was introduced to the deck and was immediately taken with it. I had been reading tarot for some time but wasn’t enamoured by it. When the Thoth Tarot came into my world, I was going through a life change.
I was dealing with the end of an abusive relationship and struggling against my own body as I tried to figure out a path ahead. I had been diagnosed with relapse remitting multiple sclerosis and my body was completely different to me now. I no longer knew my body or myself as I once had. I needed guidance to find my way in the world and I had so many questions about what lay ahead.
When I saw a post by one of my good friends, I thought this was the answer that I was looking for. She had been learning to read the Thoth tarot at a local shop and all the people in the class were giving tarot readings that evening on Halloween. I knew that I had to go and discover what spirit had in store for me and I thought it would be a wonderful way to spend Halloween.
The reading was a gorgeous experience and I fell in love with the Thoth Tarot as soon as I lay eyes on them. The cards were so vibrant and full of colour. The man who had taught her to read with the cards was giving another run through of his workshop and I signed up right away and got my own copy of the deck before I left the shop. It didn’t hurt that there was a spark of something between us. He asked me what my zodiac sign was and I told him that I was a Leo born on the cusp of Virgo. He looked up my birth date and time and confirmed that I was a full Leo.
Over the next six weeks, he taught a group of us to read the Thoth tarot with an intuitive focus and delve into the mysteries that the cards offered to us. He was a gifted teacher, pulling from the cards a world that I hadn’t known was possible. The cards became a part of my daily life and so did he in a way.
It didn’t take me a long time to realize that he wasn’t a very nice person. I noticed how he was in the workshop and how judgemental he could be with the other students and their interpretation of the cards. At the beginning of the workshop, he told us that there were no wrong interpretations of the cards, however he relished pointing out to a student that they were wrong. He got a joy from that, I think.
As I started to attend more workshops given by him over the next few months, I learned more about tarot, manifestation and reiki. I also began to learn a lot about him as a person. He arrived in my life when I was vulnerable and, though there was an initial attraction, it wore off pretty quickly for me. I could see shadows around him when he spoke.
The end for me came when he told me he loved me.
It was so out of the blue and completely unexpected. I had begun dating someone and he knew this. I’m not sure what his reasons were for telling me he loved me, but they had the reverse effect that he wanted. I was put off by it. There had been no discussion of love or lust and we had never been on a date or anything of the sort. Though I had tried to find love before, I had come to realize that I had been going about it the wrong way. I had to love myself first.
It didn’t take me a long time to realize that his professions of love were just a way to manipulate me. I had survived an abusive relationship a year before and knew the signs of someone who was emotionally unavailable but wanted to claim a person. He didn’t want to be with me, he wanted to possess me.
It didn’t escape my notice that he had only professed his love for me after I had begun to fall in love with someone else. I think he could see that spark of light that had begun to glow within me, and he wanted the light that for himself. We had never gone on a date; he had told me previously that he didn’t to date me, so this talk of love had come out of nowhere.
I did the only thing I could think of doing: blocked him on all social medias. Blocking him on social media seemed like a reactive and sure fire way to establish a boundary. It was something that I had not done with my previous boyfriend or my ex-husband. I hadn’t taken the time to protect myself and I had let them take so much from me. I would not let him take any more of me than he had.
I wanted to set the boundary and that wall that he had to cross should he realize what he had done. It was my rock wall, thorny hedge, moat and ring of fire around myself as I blocked him on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and text. It was a way that I could build a barrier around myself. With each social I blocked him on, I realized why there was something about him that had felt comforting.
After three abusive relationships, his behaviour had seemed like a home I could find comfort in. It would have been an easy habit to fall back in. It had been my MO, really. To let these men latch on to me and take everything that they could from me, and I was left wondering what had gone wrong. I didn’t want that for myself. In choosing to act and protect myself, I took away a part of his voice.
I started to draw cards about my feelings about him and the way he made me feel. All the cards I drew were the tough cards like the 8 of Swords (Interference) or the 10 of Swords (Run), the ones that asked me to really think deeply about why I needed and wanted this relationship with someone who was so obviously toxic he could be distracting (Prince of Cups). There was one reading there all the cards I drew were Sword cards and he had taught me to see the suit as bad.
During one class, one of the other students asked, “What do we do if we draw three sword cards?”
He had given them a grin and said, “Drop the cards and run like hell.”
And yet, every time I asked the cards a question about him, I always drew Sword cards.
I feared the suit of Swords for so long because of him. They had become everything bad in my life, everything that hurt, cut, burned, or maimed. He had filled me with that much terror of the Sword suit.
During one of the classes, he had all of the students pick out which card represented themselves. I chose the Ace of Wands, ready to sparkle and shine bright, to look into the shadows of my life and see those shadows’ part. Within the light that the Ace of Swords came clarity and creative opportunity as well as hope for a future for myself. A new path that was free from darkness.
My good friend who had given me that first tarot reading was in this class with me. She compared me to the Ace of Swords. I was and always have been writing something. My words were and are the way that I show myself to the world. Parts of me are tucked or sewn into everything that I write.
My good friend knew this, and to her the Ace of Swords, the cards of writers and words smiths, seers and crafters of the written word, suited me perfectly. However, my fear of the Swords suit, what they could take away from me, held so much fear (It was only when another friend gave me a copy of The Wild Unknown Tarot deck by Kim Kranz when I realized that Swords, while sometimes cold and others fierce, also had their softer side as well).
I knew that the cards were really asking me to take a look at my own thoughts and perceptions of who he was and what his motivations were. The cards wanted me to make my own mind up about him and I did. Even though it was hard, I cut him off completely from my life and held strong.
He came into my life when I was already vulnerable from an abusive relationship, and it took me a long time to realize that I had entered into another abusive relationship with him, even though it was non-romantic on my side. Though we never dated, that didn’t matter. Any relationship can be abusive.
If I was going to put a complete wall between us, that meant doing the hardest thing I could think of doing. I put the deck away and turned my back on tarot for a bit. I found solace in The Lost Map Oracle Cards by Colette Baron-Reid. I saw those cards as safety. They told a tale that could contain only my words and not the words and wisdom given to me by him. I would not have to hear his voice in my head once I turned my back on the Thoth deck.
I put my Thoth deck away. I wrapped the deck within its pink silk shroud and put it back in the wooden box that I kept them in, marked with a pentagram. He had become so wrapped around the cards in my mind that I couldn’t keep myself from associating the Thoth deck with him. Every once in a while, I would take the deck out and unwrap it and then put it away again. There was sill to much of his energy wrapped up into what the Thoth tarot represented to me. I even tried getting a new deck of the Thoth deck and had the same result. I didn’t think I would ever read with the Thoth Tarot ever again even though much of what I knew about tarot was from that deck.
When I heard that there was a new edition of the Thoth Tarot was published by AGM Urania in Germany and I had to admit that I was curious. I was also surprised about something else: they had named the artist on the box. In my years of using the Thoth Tarot, I never even knew the artist’s name. He had never mentioned Frieda Harris and I hadn’t thought to learn anything about her, quite different from the Rider Waite Smith tarot. Everyone knows about Pamela Coleman Smith. I didn’t know anything about Frieda Harris and her name intrigued me. He had not once mentioned her name, it was all about Alistair Crowley, a man of great power.
I’ve always viewed the true artist behind any tarot deck is the artist themselves. I mean, sure, the creator is the one that nurtures the seed into fruition, but the artist is the one that brings the cards to life. I don’t end up reading the guidebooks of many of the tarot decks I own. I don’t think I’ve ever read one cover to cover. I connect with the art and prefer to read my decks using what I see in front of me. It’s how I end up connecting to a card.
I ordered a used copy of the AGM Thoth Tarot off of Amazon, just to see how it would feel to have the deck in front of me. I still have the copy of the Thoth tarot that he taught me to read with. I decided against burying my original copy of the deck simply because he wasn’t a pack of cards, even if the Thoth tarot had become synonymous with him, at least in my mind. I’ve got it tucked at the back of my tarot collection. I could have gotten rid of my wooden box containing the deck very easily, but I wanted a marked or touchstone to remind me of where I’d been.
When the new copy of the AGM Thoth Tarot arrived, I was surprised to find that the deck was still wrapped in plastic, both the box and the cards. The deck wasn’t used after all, and I hadn’t paid that much for it. It felt like a bit of good fortune. When I got the deck out of the box and looked upon the face of Lady Frieda Harris, it was like greeting an old friend, I knew her art so well. I flipped through the Little White Book and found out a little bit about her and how she and Alistair Crowley met.
I read so many books about Crowley and the symbolism of the cards when I started reading with the Thoth Tarot, but I don’t recall one mention of Frieda and who she was. I was happy to finally meet her and to see her name on the box of the cards that she created.
As I made my way through the deck again after so many years, I focused not the mysticism that Alistair Crowley wanted in the deck, but the artistic skill used as Frieda tried to paint another person’s vision. Ever drop of water, ever tongue of flame was painted by her and she had to paint it to his specifications, but still, they are her paintings.
It was comforting to know that this was a new deck, unassociated with him. I can finally read with the Thoth Tarot again after so many years, and it has nothing to do with it. I can finally let his influence over the deck go and embrace the cards I know so well once more so that I can see them in a new light.
It’s wonderful to know that on one hand, I’m meeting and old friend again, but on the other, I’m also forging a new relationship with the cards and can’t wait to see what I learn about myself.
I’m lucky to have backed Quên on Kickstarter. I chose the Quên Tarot and Oracle with the guidebook. I’ve been in awe since they have arrived.
The cards invite you inward. The Quên Tarot follows the cards we know, but there is something that I really connected to. There is an earthiness about the cards, as if they come from time, and you can feel the cards have been on before you have found them.
I love the focus story, memory, and healing. Before reading the guidebook, I was curious about the places, cities, realms, and countries on each card. When I dipped into the guidebook and read the story behind the cards, I connected even more with the cards.
The art, cardstock, gilding, and production are amazing. I love everything about this deck. There is a subtle quietness about it that asks me to discover something about myself and find a way to heal.
The story behind The Quên Tarot focuses on a woman trying to find her soul mate even if she can’t remember who it is. The Quên Oracle asks you to turn that questioning inward through the power of memory.
As a writer, it’s the story brought me further into the world that Duy Khanh Vo has created. It evoked memories of places I have been and others I have only dreamed of. Quên is a beautiful tribute to story and memory.
I’m blessed to be taking this journey with these cards.
Spirit of the Wolf 