Blog

Chapter Forty-Four – 9 of Cups

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Finding Balance, Memoir, Someone Else’s Life, Tarot

I looked around myself a lot.

I was always trying to find my place in the world. I finally felt like I had a family of a sort made up of both people I knew from the streets and the Pagan community. My life had gone from having no one to being abundant with people I considered family of the heart.

I was so used to hiding who I was. However,  since I had ended up on the streets, I had met so many people that welcomed me as one of their own. I still found it odd to realize that I knew so many people that wanted to know me. I carried a lot of self-hatred, both from my childhood and there was a small part of me that wondered who would want me?

It turned out that a lot of people did. Sophie had weekly dinners for a bunch of her Pagan friends. We would bring ourselves and meet at her house in Lebreton Flats. It would be a gathering of like minds and kindred spirits. The people gathered in Sophie’s living room changed every once in a while, depending on who was dating who, or who was visiting from out of town. but the core group of us stayed the same. There was Sophie and her boyfriend James, Lisa, Jen. The people I knew were joined by Franny and her boyfriend Michel with Janice and Kyle to round out the group. I was a little shy around the people I didn’t know, but they soon became fast friends.

We would eat potluck style with each of us bringing something different the dinner and we would sit and play games or delve into magic by creating spells or doing rituals. It was the magic that brought us together on a deeper level as you must open yourself up wide to be ready for magic and it brings people closer together. I often wondered if the thrum of magic was something visible, the air would be filled with rainbows and shadow.

I went through a lot of different emotions when I was among these people. There was sadness if someone was going through something difficult and we had to band together to lift the other persons spirits, especially if it meant that one of our group would be leaving us. The people changed over time, but the core group of us remained the same.

I was reminded of the people that I had met on the streets and the kind of family those people had been to me. Looking around the room at these people, I could not deny that I had been lucky enough to find another kind of family and I knew how lucky I was to have these kinds of people around me.

Sitting in amongst a gathering of Druids, Wiccans, Pagans and otherwise, I thought about how my street family may have given me back my body and my Pagan family had given me back my spirit. These people hadn’t known me but had accepted me because they saw my spirit and accepted me completely. The streets may have taught me to protect myself, but this world taught me to be free. It was a juxtaposition that I was still having trouble accepting. However, whenever I felt like I had lost my place, all I had to do was come home to myself and the emotions that my body held.

The people around me were full of emotions and over time, the people that shared in food, joy, sorrow and laughter showed me that I didn’t have to be emotionally cut off. There didn’t need to keep a wall between myself and the emotions that I had been taught to bury down deep within me. I knew that if I didn’t let them out, they would rupture within me. The Pagan community were full of light. There were a few bad apples, you’ll find that in any bunch of people, but everyone was completely open with their emotions. They showed me that while I had to practice ward and sigils to keep myself safe, I was free to share my true emotions with them.

It was an odd experience. I was so closed off from people before and I was being asked to be open. My life was abundant with the people that surrounded me, and the core group of people had my back. I knew that I could be completely myself with these people and it was frightening and wonderful all at once.

I had spent my entire life so far having to keep so much of myself hidden from my parents, family and friends. I couldn’t talk about my disability, the abusive home that I had survived, my sexuality or my gender. There was much that was off limits for me to be able to form lasting relationships with other people and it was exhausting.

Looking around at the people that surrounded me, at Sophie, Lisa, Jen, James, Franny, Michel with Janice and Kyle. We were an odd sort of family, but we were a chosen family together. My life was abundant with so many emotions and that was okay. I didn’t have to hide anything anymore.

Especially from myself. I didn’t want to hold on to so many unnamed emotions. When I got back to Lisa’s that evening, I filled a cup full of water and then wrote the emotions I had been holding onto for so long. I wrote quickly listing off everything I could think of. I wrote about my anger, my self-hatred, my fear of being who I truly was and being completely myself. I filled both sided of the small piece of paper and dunked it in the water.

I watched as the water smudged the ink and softened the paper, making if soft. I swirled the paper until all of it was completely wet. I took the paper out of the water and began to shred  the paper into lots of little pieces until the cup of water looked as if it held wet snow. If I looked into the cup, I could see the letters that had been the words of my emotions, their ink fading even as I looked at them as the water continued to soak into the paper.

Standing, I walked off the back porch towards the edge of the garden. I poured the entire cup of water and paper into the dirt. I watched as the paper settled into the soil and if I tried to spell words with the letters I could see. With each word I spelled, I was making that negative emotion into something else.

I was letting go of the past and finally looking towards the future instead of merely living day by day. I wanted to dream of something more.

Looking down at the letters in the dirt in front of me, I tried to find a word so that I could divine what awaited me in the future.

Chapter Forty-Three – 8 of Cups

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Memoir, Someone Else’s Life

After the door had opened within Francis, I found myself looking at him more.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed him before. What I think what I was doing was looking at him to see how he reacted to me. What I saw was worrying and I had to remind myself to not put walls or barriers between us.

Before, when he first looked at me, his face had lit up like the stars. Now when he looked at me, I could see him putting his features into a face of joy. There was a moment of worry that covered his face, one of fear and I could see him as he shoved the emotions down within him to greet me with the face he thought I wanted to see.

It pained me and I wondered when he would open up to me.

I noticed that our words, which had flowed freely before, were always spoken from somewhere else, as if Francis were speaking from a place inside of himself. I knew what he was wrestling with, and I tried to get him to talk every so often. I didn’t want to push it. Francis had to be the one to speak and I remembered what happened in the past when I pushed. I usually got hurt.

He kept saying that nothing was wrong, that he was alright, that he was okay. When I asked him if we were okay and that it was okay if he wanted to talk about it, he would kiss me. I wondered if this was to shut me up or to remind himself of the spark that was between us. I began to feel that he justified our relationship during the day or tried to find peace with it. He couldn’t hide from the voices and opinions of others when the sun shone.

During the evenings together, he would sew and stitch with deft fingers. Francis could create magic in mere minutes, conjuring something with style and flair that he would don, looking instantly wonderful. He was always making something sparkly to wear. He had even offered to make me a camo beret trimmed with gold sparkles, or we would work on our nails together while the television played in the background. Often, I would write poetry in one of my journals I always carried with me. During the night, we were most ourselves with each other, free from the expectations and opinions of others. I would read him a poem I had written, or he would show me how to properly take care of my cuticles and how to make sure to get the most even coverage when painting your nails.

During the evening, with the lights down low, we could pretend everything was okay. I didn’t have the words to get him to open up and speak about the emotions that he was carrying. In hindsight, I wasn’t old enough and didn’t know enough of the world to learn the words that I had to say. Not yet. I just tried to comfort him and enjoy the hours spent together feeling whole. The shadows kept us together, the day drove us apart.

Francis couldn’t hide from the truth.

I always picked him up from work. He worked down the street from Lisa’s at a call centre with Stacey. They worked in an older house that had been converted into an office, and they sold subscriptions. Francis and Stacey were always bringing home some kind of bonus or another for how well they had done. It had gotten to the point where a lot of the people knew me and knew that I was Francis’ other half. At first, I had eyes only for Francis when I was there and watched him working, laughing with one of his customers, Francis looking at me the entire time.

As time passed between us, our paths following the flow of water,  I started to notice that he would look away from me while I waited and his coworkers would glance at me with apologetic looks.

After work, he would take my hand, and we would walk to the bus stop so that we could spend the night together. I had begun to carry the unspoken worry during the day, and it weighed on me. I would sit and read, write and worry. I would pour my worry out onto the page, filling the page with my emotions. I didn’t know why I was worried, why it hung so heavy on me, but when Francis took my hand and we headed back to his place, I was able to let all the worry go. Everything was going to be okay, night had come and the smoke from our cigarettes could mingle together as if dancing between us.

At night, I believed in the magic of possibility and the promise of love.

I wrote him poems about speaking and truth, about the words that we kept within us covered up with vines trying to break free, and he would tell me that it was beautiful, that the words just flowed across the page. When he was reading, I could see his eyes widen, but my words didn’t reach deep enough into the well of him so that he could bring up his words so that his tongue could shape them.

He would tell me that he loved me, but slowly, I could see him walking away from me and could feel him putting distance between us. Even though I kept swimming toward him, I was somehow further and further away in the sea that surrounded him.

At night, I believed in the magic of love, and I hoped that it was enough.

Chapter Forty-Two – 7 of Cups

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Memoir, Personal Growth, Someone Else’s Life, Tarot

Francis and I were at a Pagan brunch when the first seeds of doubt began to find their way into our relationship.

Fox was sitting across from us at our table and there were plates of eggs, toast and bacon in front of us. I was telling Fox about a ceremony that Francis and I had taken part in the other night. I had stood for Air and Francis had stood for Fire as we made the four corners with a small group of other Pagans. A woman we both knew named Anna had wanted to perform a rite for herself and had asked a few of her friends to take part. It had been a wonderful experience performing magic with Francis and I was still elated by the whole experience.

“The room hummed with magic,” I told Fox. Beside me, Francis took my hand and gave it a squeeze. He had felt the magic, too and we had talked about it afterwards.

“Man, Francis. You lucked out with Jamieson, and you really robbed the cradle!” he said with a loud laugh.

Beside me, I could feel Francis freeze and then he removed his hand from mine. Beside Fox, Lisa gave him an angry frown and smacked his shoulder.

“What? What did I say?”

“You’re just fucking clueless, that’s all.” She said. Her tone was sweet, but her eyes were like steel daggers.

Francis chuckled beside me, but there was no humour in it. He waved a hand at Fox, but I saw the shape of a gesture in that wave. Francis’ middle finger was clear in the air in between all four of us before the rest of his fingers popped into view. “It’s alright,” he said. “It’s all right,” he said again. I could tell from the tone of Francis’ voice that it wasn’t alright. There was a grim set to his mouth that I hadn’t seen before. Whenever he looked at me, he was smiling.

After brunch, we took the bus back to his place. We barely spoke on the bus. Our relationship was normally full of conversation. We talked about everything, and Francis never put me down or called me stupid. We were equally fascinated with each other and the life I thought we were building together was one filled with magic, words, music and love. Francis and I were in the process of discovery, and I liked to imagine the path that we were forging together on the surface of the map within my mind. Everyone has a map like this, with roads already traveled and paths yet to be found.

On the map within me, I could see where our paths had converged, and the lines radiating from that point were brighter, drawn in shades of flamingo pink, sunset gold and the brightest cerulean blue. Looking back over the map, some of the lines that were drawn had been jagged and sharp enough to draw blood; a lot of them had. I traced the lines that blossomed like a flower ever since Francis and I had started dating and they flowed like water and air.

Which was I surprised to feel a jagged wall between Francis and myself as we rode back to his apartment. Indeed, there were no words shared. I tried to talk to him and figure out what was wrong, but he just kept shaking his head. We got off the bus and mad our way to his home in silence. No one else was home yet, so we just made our way to his room. I watched the man I love sit on his bed and crumple into himself as if the wall he had been a moment ago had just come tumbling down.

“You must think I’m an idiot, I’m sorry Jamieson. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” I asked, sitting down beside him on the bed. I was surprised that I didn’t put any walls up. I knew that we were about to have a conversation that I might not like, but I loved Francis so completely that it didn’t occur to me for even a moment to be fearful.

He took my hands in his and they were warm. When Francis raised his head and looked at me, I was surprised to find tears in his eyes. “You’re only six years older than my son.” He let out a sob and I watched a tear slide down his cheek. “I don’t know what to do. What direction do I take?” There was desperation in his voice. “I love you, I know that, and your love is a gift, such a gift and I never thought I would find love again. I thought that I was destined to be alone for the rest of my life, and then you appeared as if sent by the gods. But you’re only six years older than my son.”

I knew that Francis had two children from when he was married before he came out of the closet. I knew that they were still a small part of his life, but we had never talked about them. Our relationship was still so new, and Francis and I hadn’t been together for long, even though our love was deep. He had never brought them up before.

“Well, did you want to talk about it?” I asked. I knew he was hurting over something, and I wanted to help him heal. I loved him so completely that I thought that love could heal anything.

He kissed me softly. “No, I just don’t know what to do. I mean, I’ve gotten lots of comments from people like Fox, but I love you and that goes beyond age. I love your spirit and I’m so happy to be in your glow. I’ve just been in a funk since the brunch. Fox’s comment really got to me.”

“What can I do?” I asked softly. I knew that he was still upset, that Fox’s comment had unlocked something within him. Maybe it had already been unlocked if he had been getting comments from other people about our age difference. I saw nothing wrong with being nineteen and Francis being forty-one. “Tell me what I can do and what you need from me.” I wanted him to know that we could get through this together. When Francis looked at me, I watched him search my face and knew that he was wishing I was a few years older. It had been the first time he had looked at me like that. He had always looked at me and accepted me just as I was and I didn’t see that within his eyes. It was there for a moment and gone in the next.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You must think I’m an idiot, I’m just being an idiot.”

When he kissed me, there was no hesitancy and no wall between our lips, so I gave into the kiss and let the sound of worry and anguish in his voice fade from my mind, sure that our love wouldn’t falter and that our map would be filled with so many lines, it would look like a spider’s web.

I hoped for this as much as I willed myself to forget.

Chapter Forty -One – 6 of Cups

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Memoir, Someone Else’s Life

It was fascinating to be with someone who wanted to be with me.

That was one of the first emotions that came to mind when I thought of Francis. When we walked together, waited for the bus or we were at one of the Pagan brunches, Francis made room for me. I could see him lowering his walls just as I was lowering mine. It was never a thought that it was possible to love someone so effortlessly. I had never experienced this and it was so new to me. I felt included in his life and everyone I knew already knew Francis. It was a seamless transition from caterpillar to butterfly. The transition was not painful as I had wanted to be free of my cocoon for long.

I was still afraid, though. Francis held my heart in his hands, and it had been a long time since I had trusted another man to hold my heart carefully. I loved him despite that fear. I adored him because I was afraid. A small part of me even feared the love that Francis and I shared together because of everything that had happened in my past. I loved him with an open heart and wanted to hide and be seen by him at the same time. It was like I was walking an internal tight rope, and I had no idea where it would end.

Francis showed me that there was nothing to hide from. When I was with him, I remembered what joy was. I loved him so completely. Lisa and I would talk about it when I wasn’t with him. One night, we were getting ready for sleep. Lisa was lying on her bed smoking a cigarette and I was on my foam roll doing the same thing. From my vantage point on the ground looking up at Lisa’s ceiling, the smoke looked like clouds. I pretended we were on a raft floating along the water, letting ourselves flow towards the future.

“You don’t have to be afraid, you know.”

I perched on an elbow and looked at Lisa. “What do you mean? I’m not afraid.”

“You forget how well I know you.” She gave me a gentle smile. “You don’t have to go back there, Jamieson. I know you hold on to every slight and every slap you’ve ever received. People like you always do. I’m Warrior because I want what I wasn’t given and now I just fucking take it. You’re a Warrior because you love so much. Your heart is in everything you do and say. You walk around offering it to others every time you speak even though you’ve been hurt to the breaking point and still you offer your heart, but at the same time, you’re afraid. Francis isn’t like the other fuckers you dated. He’s not your father. He’s different, Jamieson.”

My nineteen-year-old heart swelled with hope and with love as I pictured Francis in my mind. I was standing with him and my heart swelled even more when I looked at him and took in the shape of his eyes crinkled because his lips were shaped in a smile as he looked at me. I could hear the rush of water again, the waves sending water into the boat. I looked around us and held on tighter to Francis, but I loosened my grip. I didn’t want to hurt him or hang on too tightly. I was afraid that he might turn away from me if I did that.

When I opened my eyes, Lisa had turned her head to look at me. “I keep over analysing everything,” I told her. “My heart, mind and spirit are open to him, they are giving and receiving love, but I am afraid, Lisa. What if I fuck this up?”

“The way that Francis looks at you, I’m sure that’s never going to happen.”

“But what if it does?”

“So, it does. You’ll do what you always do, pick yourself up and get on with it, but you need to move on from all the worry. Just because Francis carries a lot of pain doesn’t mean you need to. You can’t love someone with one of your feet stuck in the past, Jamieson. If you love Francis, love him without the fear.”

I thought for a moment about what Lisa had said, looking at the smoke as it swirled above my head. I blew out smoke rings, trying to see if I could join the smoke that came from the burning cigarette with the smoke that came from my mouth. I watched intently for a moment, and the smoke looked like it was in a casual dance, melding and shifting with each other, before rising out of my sight. I noticed something though. When the smoke rings I sent up to the sky joined with the smoke from my cigarette, they each grew stronger, even if only for a moment. The smoke grew thicker and when they separated, they each took a bit from each other before moving onward.

I knew that Lisa was right. I had been afraid for so much of my life before now that fear had become the only thing I knew completely. I carried my fear and the pain that had caused it, and they were my constant companions. No matter where I roamed over the waters, fear had become my anchor, my pain an oar. I knew that I was letting my fear hold me back. I could love someone completely but still be afraid that they would cause me more pain. I didn’t want to find my direction in life because of the pain it had caused me.

“How do I let go of all of that?” I said this more to the smoke than Lisa. I felt the smoke would have a kinder response than she would. The smoke would probably say something mysterious and alluring. Lisa would deliver her advice in her typical bluntness. She was wise, but she did not mince words.

“By choosing to,” Lisa said. “You’re the one that controls your destiny, Jamieson. Where do you want to go? You need to pick your direction and head that way. Sometimes you have to let go of things when you choose a different direction.”

“What if it hurts?”

She let out a snort and a puff of smoke at the same time that made Lisa look like she was some of dragon. “Of course it’s going to hurt, Jamieson. That’s the point of growth. If our journey had no fucking pain, it would not be worth it. You’ve had more than your share of pain. It’s time to let some of it go.”

I closed my eyes and Francis was beside me again. The waters around us calmed and the boat that we rode in stopped rocking back and forth. I reached out to put my arm around him and pulled him close. I felt Francis put his arm around me and I looked forward to see where the waters would take us. I let out a puff of smoke and the water rippled, reflecting the sun as it shone down at us.

I opened my eyes and tried to let a bit of the pain go. It wasn’t much, but it was a start and that had to count for something.

The Forest in the Mirror – My Journey with Tarot Collecting

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in Personal Growth, Tarot, Tarot Decks

I don’t think there will ever be a last tarot deck.

I’ve come to realize that as much as I love reading tarot and delving into the mysteries of myself and the journey, I find myself on, I love collecting new tarot decks and other tarot related creations that call to me. With each one I find, be it a deck of Tarot, Oracle, Kiper or Lenormand cards, it’s like I’m finding a part of myself.

Tarot has become a part of how I breathe and that breath changes focus over time. There are times when I feel like I need strong guidance and wise counsel and other times when I need a soft and gentle hand to guide my way. I always find myself going to different decks for different situations. I’ve tried to stick with only one deck, and I did for a while. My first deck was The Ancient Egyptian Tarot. I love the mysticism that Egypt still brings to mind and using those cards was like communicating with a deeper part of my spirit. The Ancient Egyptian Tarot was with me during one of the most difficult times in my life and part of me.

After a break from card slinging, I learned to read tarot again with the Thoth Tarot and after I spent a lot of time with those cards, I needed to find a different path for myself. My path with the Thoth Tarot ended badly, though this had nothing to do with the cards themselves, but the person who taught me to read with them. I wanted to find comfort after a difficult time and knew that I had to walk away from the Toth Tarot. It was too wrapped up in who he was.

After such a bad experience with that was wrapped up within the Thoth Tarot, I needed to walk away from the tarot for a bit. I found myself drawn to The Enchanted Map Oracle by Colette Baron-Reid. They were a revelation at the time and provided me with soft comfort and much needed advice that I needed to turn my mind around and to not just focus on the positive but find a way to let go of the negativity so that I could see the path in front of me clearly. I had no idea that my path would lead me to meet Colette with my friend Christine.

When a friend gave me The Wild Unknown for Christmas, it was like I had found a piece of myself that I had given away a long time ago. I was hesitant picking up another tarot deck after what had happened with the Thoth Tarot. However, after a time with so much darkness, it was like finding light in the shadows, and Kim Krans uses colour to great effect within the art of The Wild Uknown, using the shadow to show how powerful a spot of light or colour can be.

It is the deck that I always return to, no matter how many decks I own. It’s where I feel most at home. The Wild Unknown is the deck that somehow gives me breath in a world where I sometimes don’t feel like I can breathe. I have three cards tattooed on my right shoulder so that I can carry them around with me: the Ace of Wands, Strength and the Ace of Swords. Every day, they remind me what I can create, how I can overcome and what I need to cut away.

Even so, as much as The Wild Unknown holds a part of my spirit, it likes to wander and find itself in new places.  I’m always drawn to find a part of myself in something new and if it has gilding on the edges, I’m gone. I have always been a sucker for shiny things. After experiencing The Wild Unknown, I was drawn into the world of Prisma Visions. The Wild Unknown Tarot helped me through a period of growth where I became completely myself and opened me up to what was possible. The world of Prima Visions Tarot was an explosion of colour that lit up the dark and showed me what my world could look like, and it was a world that I wanted to explore. I felt like with each card that I was being drawn into a world where there was finally balance between the light and the dark. I found those cards when I needed to let myself shine because I didn’t want to hide who I was anymore. Those cards showed me that it was okay.

I could go on, but we would be here for a while. When people ask me how many decks I have, I truthfully don’t know the answer. I would wager somewhere between one-hundred or two. There have been decks that have been sold to others or given away to one of my friends who was in need of a little bit of wisdom, but other than that, they have stayed.

I’ve always thought of Tarot cards like doors, they invite into a world of the artists creation. The person who has created the deck is alive within each card, each pigment, each sword, pentacle, cup or wand. The decks that call to me are often at random or ones I’ve been told about, or I spot them on my journeys in stores (both mortar and online). If I know that the store sells Tarot decks, that’s the first thing I go to look at. I almost always find something to take home.

It’s not about just buying a new deck. There has to be some kind of spark or story, waiting to be unravelled and lived in. I’m a firm believer that Tarot decks are spirit keepers. I write and paint. I know that a little bit of the magic that I create lives inside each of my paintings. My books always hold characters that are parts or pieces of me, every writer does this. Our lives and imagination inspire the rest.

I think that tarot decks are like that, too.  The decks always hold the spirit of their creator. They’ve had that vision, that idea, that story that had to be told with tarot cards. They are world creators, giving their idea a canvas to live out their tale, to hold the energy that they want to imbibe the deck with. Every time I open a new tarot deck that called to me, I am opening a door within myself that has either remained closed, or I didn’t know was there in the first place. I usually sit with a tarot deck, flipping through the cards and letting what I see tell me a story. Then I sit and read the guidebook, so that I can see further into the forest. The guidebook gives me the bones of the deck. It is, after all, the deck creators’ story and vision. They take the forest of cards and help to bring them to life.

My tarot collection of tarot decks has become something more. It’s like each deck is a page in the book that tells my journey, mirroring a different part of my path. It’s a large book that I have compiled, much like a tarot deck that is really a book filled with mirrors. I’ve always used tarot for personal reflection and growth, and each card is a reflection of who I am, that’s how I’ve always seen them at any rate. These decks that have been created with care by so many different deck creators and artists. They may have created a forest to lose myself in, but it’s my intuition that gives me the light to shine through.

Either way, I’ve come to realize that there will always be a new deck that catches my eye and tugs at my spirit. I know this and I’ve come to a good place with it. I know that with each year that passes, there will be many more pages to add to the book of my life. I can’t wait to see where the cards will take me next.