Category: A Tarot Guide

Chapter Thirty-Five – The King of Wands

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Finding Balance, Memoir, Personal Growth

The List Serve fundraising party was in full swing when we arrived.

I was surprised by how many people were there. Almost all of them were Pagan, too. I couldn’t help but notice how openly they wore their spiritualities. I had always been taught that my spiritual beliefs, which ran contrary to Christianity, were something to be ashamed of. I had kept my love of tarot or anything that went against the word of God a secret. It felt like hiding a large part of who I was in the shadows, yet one more thing I had to hide in order to fit in.

Here, there was no judgement. There was only a feeling of joy, clear and present. The air in the room was filled with a subtle hum and the light was bright and clear. I knew that I was entering a room where the majority of people here believed in magic, and that brought me so much comfort and joy. I felt like I was entering a part of my life that I was always going to find, even though I didn’t know I was looking for it. The joy in that moment made the walls that I always kept up around myself dissolve. I was safe here. I was nervous entering a gathering where I didn’t know who the people were, but my spirit recognized them as friends. That had never happened before.

Lisa brought me around to the people she knew and that included most of the room. I could tell that these people genuinely loved her. I was worried the first time that Lisa brought me up to someone she knew and introduced me, but by the third group of people, that nervousness was gone. I knew that it would take me some time to remember everyone’s names, but I knew that each one of them were exactly who they were. The warmth they gave me was honest and true and I knew that I had never been hugged so many times in the space of half an hour.

We headed to the bar and I got myself a beer. Lisa put her arm around my waist and pulled me over to a man that was standing at the bar talking to someone else, a woman with curly auburn hair. She was smoking a cigarette, and I remember the smoke seeming to curl around the sound of her laughter. Lisa tapped on the man’s shoulder, he turned and I felt my world stop for a moment that seemed like forever and an instant of time all at once.

He had dark brown hir that fell to his shoulders. It was spiky and curly all at once. He had blue eyes that looked like the ocean and lips that were drawn out in a smile. I felt self-conscious and wanted to be seen and hide all at the same time. I walked closer to him and the woman he had been speaking to raised her eyebrows at me as if to see what I was made of, and then she gave me a welcoming smile free of malice.

“This is my friend Francis, you know the one that I was telling you about?” Lisa said.

“This is my roommate and friend Stacey,” Francis said.

“Who is going to make herself scarce. Nice to meet you, Jamieson. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.” She hooked her arm through one of Lisa’s. “Come on, you can buy me a glass of wine.”

I watched Lisa and Stacey walk away and felt a moment of panic mixed with the heady thrill of knowing. This moment was right, I would be okay. I had to trust in spirit. I moved closer to Francis and felt warmth, smelled something soft. Francis smiled at me and I noticed one of his eyetooth was crooked.

“Lisa tells me that you’re quite the writer.”

I felt the blush of warmth inside me and hoped that it didn’t show on my cheeks. “I write a little.” I said.

“More than just a little, I’m told. She’s showed me one of your poems.”

I was aghast to have been so laid bare before this man that I hardly knew but wanted to know so much more of. I reminded myself not to lay myself completely bare in front of him, but I thought that he could see me anyways, the true me that only a few people in my life could see. Francis could see that and he was still smiling. “She shouldn’t have done that.” I said.

“Nonsense,” he said, pulling the paper from his pocket. “It told me so much about you. I’ve read it quite a few times.”

He unfolded the paper, and I could see that it had been folded and unfolded countless times. The folds were starting to wear the paper clean through. I touched my poem, marvelling at the fact that someone had actually read it that many times.

I watched as he folded the poem again and then placed it back in his pocket. I followed the motion of his arm and watched as his shoulders relaxed. Though he was dressed in dark colours, he gave off a light and a warmth that I could feel from where I stood. I just wanted to bask in that fire he gave out. His presence was beyond his body and I could feel him even though we weren’t touching.

I knew that Lisa meant for the two of to talk about being raped in our pasts, that she felt that it would offer some kind of healing. I just didn’t want to talk about any of that. I wanted to learn all I could about Francis. It seemed like he had the same idea.

“Lisa says that you were hurt, too. That you carry a lot of scars. I do, too. I’m sorry that anyone ever hurt you.” He reached out and gently took my right hand, rubbed the pad of his thumb across my knuckles. “We can talk about that later, but tonight I just want to get to know you. Would that be okay?”

I nodded and felt the warmth emanating from him increase. “That would be lovely,” I said and when the blush came, filling up my cheeks with colour, I didn’t do anything to hide my face.

Chapter Thirty-Four – The Queen of Wands

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Finding Balance, Memoir

Lisa knew how much light she gave out into the world. She was utterly and completely aware that people fell under her spell. Man, woman, it didn’t matter. She always had a score of people willing to help her so that they could benefit from the brilliance that she gave out.

Which is probably why she was determined to help me.

What I’d come to realize was that light was a transactional thing with Lisa. If she loved you, you were golden and got her at full wattage. If she liked you, a little less so, but she still sparkled. If she didn’t like you, there was usually a reason, and you were shunned from her light. This wasn’t done willy nilly. She didn’t withhold her light to be cruel; I wasn’t sure she had it in her to do that. As I got to know her, I watched how she would interact with those around her. She looked like the sun surrounded by the orbit of people around her.

I didn’t know how to feel within the orbit around her. I was just grateful that I had found safety with someone that felt like my best friend and my mom at the same time. She would encourage me I little ways, trying to bring me out of my shell. I had retreated father and father into myself, and Lisa did what she could to bring me out of it. The talent competition was a perfect example of this

“I know you can do funny well, try and be funny. A serious monologue isn’t going to win the competition. Do it from the point of being Pagan and your parents don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, like my parents asked me if I had gotten into sacrificing or blood in my rituals when I told them I was Pagan.”

Lisa let out a snort. “Oh, my Goddess, you have to lead with something like that. It’s perfect.”

She gently pulled me out of myself so that I could begin to see who I was. I performed bits and pieces of my monologue as I wrote, and she helped me to put the pieces in order. She was creative in her own ways, but she helped to make my creativity bloom into something real and tangible that I could feel taking hold of me. She was the spark that helped my flame to grow. As I continued to write on whatever I could find, random receipts, ruled paper pulled from a notebook, it felt as if she were my muse.

The idea of doing a monologue in front of a group of people was like any other day at the theatre. Out of all the areas of the dramatic arts that I had tried (acting, writing, filming, dramatic roles, etc.) the one that I loved the most was improv. I loved that a whole world could open up out of a handful of words and the mere suggestion of a place.

I loved that in drama, I would normally be able to lose myself in the life of someone else. The fact that this would be the first time talking about something that had actually happened was kind of a revelation for me. I didn’t like talking about myself. It was one of the ways that I was able to help others. I listened to other people and offered help when I could so that we didn’t have to talk about who I was.

I kept the details light, but the fact that there was even one iota of truth to the monologue was such a big step for me. I was too young to realize that every writer puts a part of themselves into everything that they write. I worried that no one would want to hear what I had written because of that truth. It was so long since I’d been on stage that I wasn’t sure I’d be any good. I knew that it wasn’t enough just to say the words, I had to be good. I practiced my delivery, and I knew that if I fucked up, I would just ad lib until I got back on track. I got the monologue down to two and a half minutes. I told myself that if I fucked up, I would just improv it. That’s all there was to it.

The night before the show, Lisa and I were out on the porch smoking a cigarette. I watched the curls of smoke against the dark blue background of the sky at dusk. I looked up to the stars that were shining above me and knew that if I wished hard enough, something great would happen.

Lisa made me feel like it was okay to make a wish for something better and believe in the possibilities. She let me know that it was okay to trust the Gods and that they would be there to help me along on the way as long as I had faith in myself.

She let me know that it was okay to be me.

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Princess of Wands

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Finding Balance, Memoir

Lisa’s stepson Paul was in a relationship with a woman named Karla. She was far too thin, more skeleton than woman. It’s what I noticed about her first. The other thing I noticed was that she had a lazy eye like I did. It was as if I had found one of the others marked by spirit.

I often thought that people with lazy or wandering eyes could see into two worlds at once and that was certainly true of Karla. She was completely free. I often wonder where she came from. It was as if a spark floated down through the air and when it hit the ground, Karla came to be. She had that air of fleeting movement about her even when she was standing still.

She wore her black hair like a curtain that her eyes just peeked out from behind and when she saw me, her eyes brightened. The first time I met her, Karla caught me off guard when she came right up to me and wrapped her arms around me in a surprisingly strong hug filled with warmth. When broke the embrace, she looked at me with green eyes that shone like amber flecked with light.

“Well, all right then!” She gave me another quick squeeze. “Don’t you feel like you’re just waking up?”

“I woke up a few hours ago.”

“No, I mean in here.” She lightly tapped my chest. “In here. I feel like I’ve just started coming into myself, you know?” Karla looked at me and it was as if I could feel her reaching into me through my eyes so that she could know all of me. “You’ve been on your journey a lot longer than me, haven’t you?” She gave me a quizzical look. “Your spirit has been travelling for a long time; a lot longer than you know.”

She trailed out onto the front porch and lit up a duMaurier, lighting another and handing it to me. “Have you known Lisa for long?”

“I just met her a few months ago,” I told her.

“But it feels like you’ve known her forever, right?” She nodded as if I had already spoken. “Just like you. I feel like we’re kindred spirits.”

“You just met me.” I say, wishing I could the words back already. I was trying not to have my guard up so much. I didn’t need to protect myself from everyone. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You don’t have anything to be sorry about. But don’t you feel it?” She nods her head again, looking at me hopefully.

To my surprise, I did. There was just a lightness about her that wanted to pull me in and the scent around her was the loveliest incense, like sage and cedarwood. She smelled of smoke and flowers. I nodded back at her and her scent somehow grew larger and reminded me of the smell of campfire. She brought joy and innoncence with her; I could see and sense that right away.

I smiled despite my want to keep myself guarded against people. It was my natural inclination after everything I had been through and yet, with Karla, there was kinship right away. I was reminded of Anne of Green Gables and her friend Diana Bishop. It just felt like it was meant to be, with no pretense or build up. Karla was giving me the opportunity to see the world in a different way by engaging with it rather than hiding from it.

I wanted to take the plunge.

Lisa was all about taking life by it’s balls and either cutting them off and using them in a spell or squeezing them until they turned blue and she got her way. That was her power. Karla’s power was different.

She helped you to see the best of yourself, despite what had happened to you. Even though I carried shadows within, her brightness helped me to see not only through but past them. Karla made me thirsty for the future in front of me.

I had never thought of my future before, only the present moment that I found myself in, the minute, hour the day. I never thought of tomorrow. Karla’s power helped me to finally believe that a tomorrow was possible for me.

Chapter Thirty-Two – The Prince of Wands

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Finding Balance, Memoir

Lisa thought the perfect time for me to meet Francis would be at the next Pagan get together.

“It’s like a dance party talent show,” she told me with a twinkle in her eyes. “I told Francis all about you and now you two can meet and heal your wounds a little.”

“I don’t see why all of this is necessary,” I told her.

“Because you’re too afraid to think of how it might help in the future. You’re so focused on the now. You’re too much in the moment.”

“That’s all I have.” I said. “Thinking that way has always done me well.”

“You need to think of the possibilities,” Lisa told me. “You can’t just stay in the now. You’re going to miss something if you do.”

She told me that I had to think of a talent. “You were in drama, right? So how about you do a monologue? That could be fun.”

In truth, I had loved dramatic arts, and I loved to write monologues. They were a solo performance or speech that was supposed to bring you into the moment and make you feel something. They were also done on their own, so it suited me fine when I was in dramatic arts in high school or theatre classes in university. I loved the singleness of them; I was able to be on stage and I didn’t need to depend on anyone else to learn their lines. Plus, the light shone on me. I could be in the spotlight if I was someone else.

“Why don’t you do a monologue about the misunderstandings that people have about being Pagan? That could be a fun angle.”

I decided to run with the idea and began writing things I’d like to say in my piece. I knew that others would be singing, telling jokes, reding a story they had written, that kind of thing. The event raised money for an online chat board. I didn’t have a computer and had not been on the internet for years, so I had never used it. However, I thought of what Lisa had said about putting myself out there and living for a bit. I thought of The Hermit card the tarot and I thought I had been charging my light for too long.

It I looked at it within me, I could see clear across the forest to the fields beyond. Every blade of grass in the garden of my mind was as clear as day. I was tired of keeping my light in the darkness and shadows because I was afraid of being seen. I had to let the light out eventually. I used to love being watched on stage, the laughter that my part would create or the fear and joy. I loved being able to create emotions in other people and I don’t know when that joy stopped for me. What Lisa was asking me to do was to step out of the shadows and to let my light shine.

I was terrified of speaking in front of other people again, of being seen, but I also wanted to be seen. I couldn’t hide forever. I tried to think of what I would say about Paganism and thought that going at it from a funny angle would be best. I loved comedy, so I would do my monologue from a place of humour. Once I had a focus, it was like the words came pouring out of me. I filled page after page with words and once that was done, I read them over and saw some things I liked and some I didn’t.

Though I had always written, I hadn’t written a play or a scene for years. I loved the shaping of the words and it was like I was trying to find my way again. I went out for a break and a cigarette and took my pages with me. Lisa was already outside and she handed me a smoke. “What do you got?”

“I think I have something.” I said.

“Do you feel like practicing?” Lisa asked me.

I read out a little bit of my piece and was surprised when Lisa laughed. I looked up at her shocked.

“Don’t look at me like a deer in the headlights. That was funny! You’ve got this, Jamieson. You have to start believing in yourself, but your young yet.” She took a drag off her cigarette. “You’ve got time. You can’t be afraid to shine, Jamieson. You have to hold your head up high and not hide yourself. You shine too brightly for that.”

I shook my head. “I don’t though.”

“Don’t what?”

“Shine.” I said. “I don’t shine.”

“You should if you let yourself.” She butted out her cigarette. “Come on, let’s hear it again. This time, don’t be so hesitant. Lean into the jokes. You’ve written something really great here. We can trim it back so that it works better.”

I thought of the opportunity to shine underneath the comfort of a light again and nodded, looking down at my words and tried to let my light shine brighter with each word I spoke. I could no longer be afraid of myself.

Chapter Thirty-One – 10 of Wands

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Memoir

Content Warning: This chapter deals with the subject and details of a sexual assault.

The house was always filled with other people.

Lisa’s stepson Paul was helpful but was lost in the woes of being young and misunderstood. Her roommate Frank was a tall thin man with a long goatee and coke bottle lenses in his glasses so that it looked his eyes were mere like shiny green beetles. His hair was frazzled and I wondered if he exited merely on coffee and cigarettes. Lisa’s boyfriend Carl visited fairly often and I wasn’t sure how well they got along. It looked to me like he was trying to hold on to flame and wasn’t sure what to do with the bright fire.

There were always people coming over and they would stay for a coffee or sit with Lisa in her backyard smoking cigarettes or pot. Sometimes, song would break out when someone started to sing, or the music of laugher blessed the air. Lisa’s home was a place of freedom and there were a lot of people that felt as comfortable there as I did. Her home was an ever-moving tapestry of people, and it was hard finding a moment alone, if at all.

I read a lot and ventured into the solace of words to get some private time. I found comfort in books by Charles de Lint, Christopher Moore, Anne Rice, Stephen King and Tanya Huff. My reading tastes had no boundaries, and I read everything that I could. When I read, I could find solace in a world that held so much, and I didn’t know how to find my place in it.

If the days were filled with people, the evenings were more so. Paul would bring by his girlfriends, Frank sometimes brought someone over and if Carl was staying the night, I would sleep on the couch so that Lisa and Carl could share her bedroom. I tried to cocoon myself as much as I could. I spent a lot of time with the other people that came by Lisa’s, but I cherished the moments that I spent alone within another world contained in pages of a book, or staring up at the night sky and wondering about the journey that the stars had taken so that we could see them.

One evening, Lisa and I actually found ourselves alone. The sky was dark, and the night was warm. We were both smoking a cigarette and reading our books in the light from the kitchen. The air was warm against my skin, and I relished the silence of the night, only broken by the sound of a nearby mosquito.

I could feel Lisa’s eyes on me and I turned to face her. I could tell from the set of her gaze that she was about to ask a very serious question. She had that kind of face that always told me where the conversation was about to turn. I admired that about her. Lisa never thought to hide anything of herself from me.

“I’m going to ask you a serious question and I hope you aren’t offended. I know we’ve talked about it a little here and there, but never full out in the open. I called you a warrior witch when we first met. What battles have you fought? Who drew first blood?”

I shook my head, watching a stray wisp of smoke disappear in front of my eyes. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You don’t date. You just sleep around, and you don’t look for anything more, or you choose guys that you know are bad for you.” I’d been wondering when she would bring this up. I had told her about what had happened with Shades. “What gives?”

I think it was those two simple words which were able to break open the dam that I had kept under lock and key for such a long time. In that moment, I took a breath and looked at the smoke rising from my cigarette as it floated into the sky and away from me.

“It’s easier that way.” I told her. “I came out of the closet when I went to university, did I ever tell you that? I finally felt like I was free to be myself away from everyone that had know me and had expectations of the way I should live my life.”

I couldn’t look at Lisa. I knew that if I did, the spell would be broken and the words would dry up, too afraid to be seen as well as heard. I knew that if I wanted the words to come out, I had to look away. “It was the first guy I ever went on a date with. The first date went well. He took me out for coffee. His name was Mickey, and he was hairdresser. We talked about art and creativity, and we really clicked.”

Lisa didn’t anything, but she put her hand on my right knee to comfort me. In her own way, Lisa was letting me know that it was okay, that my words were safe here shared between the two of us and the comfort of the night. “He picked me up for a second date and he took me to his friend Wendy’s place. He kept giving me beer to drink and I was having fun. The fun took a hiccup when I blacked out for a bit. I remember Mickey picking me up off the floor and he took me into the hallway to walk it off.”

I could feel Lisa’s hand getting warmer. I took comfort from that warmth, and it made the cold I felt from that long ago night that I still carried with me lessen a little bit. It was as if she were trying to fight against the ferocity of the memory with the power of her touch. “I don’t know how, but we ended up in the stairwell. He was kissing my neck and then he turned me around, so I was facing the wall and pulled down my pants. I was so out of it, but I had enough sense to ask him what he was doing. He told me he was going to fuck me.”

I let those words hang in the air for a moment. I had never told anyone this before, had never spoken of what had happened to send me into the downward spiral that I had went through during my time at university. I hadn’t talked to any of the therapists or my friends and family. I held onto the shame so that it was mine alone.

“Afterward, we walked back into the apartment, and everyone was whistling at us and I couldn’t help grinning. It was only later that night as I lay in bed in my dorm room that I realized I had been raped.”

I heard the click of a lighter and Lisa passed me another cigarette. Mine had gone to ash. I flicked the butt into the ashtray and took the new cigarette. I drew in a breath of smoke and let it go free. I knew that tears marked my face, I could feel the wetness on my cheeks. Lisa squeezed my knee.

“You really have to meet my friend Francis. He’s gay and he was a rape victim, too. Sometimes, it’s good to talk about what happened to you with someone else who understands what it’s like, you know? You can help each other heal.”

We were silent after that with only the sound of the mosquitoes and the meow of a stray cat from across the street to fill the absence of sound.