Category: Finding Balance

Chapter Forty-Nine – King of Cups

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

I knew that I had given almost all my heart to Francis.

Some of it remained to love others in my life, but he held so much of me in his hands. Francis had taught me to love completely. I had never done this before and I struggled against it, but the longer we were together, the easier it was to love with my whole heart. We had been together for a few months now and in that time, Francis had helped me to rewrite what I thought love was.

We would talk late at night about what we wanted to do with our lives, the smoke from our cigarettes entwining and dancing between us. In every fantasy, we were together. It was wonderful to have such comfort with someone else and be completely myself.  Francis encouraged me to be my complete self and not hide who I was from anyone. “You’re so easy to love, Jamieson. It would be easier if you let people in.”

I shook my head. “It’s easier this way,” I said. “The less people that see the true me, the less people that will hurt me.”

“I know you were hurt before.” He took my hand in his. I had told him about growing up in an abusive family and how I was always the one to try and keep the peace, so I got hurt the most. I told Francis almost all the things my father had done to me. There were things that I could not tell the man I loved the most. I was completely myself with Francis, but I could not tell him everything that had shaped me. I thought he would look at me with disgust if he knew everything.

“You don’t have to carry it with you,” he said gently. “You can let it go.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can. I don’t know how.”

“I can see the pain when I look into your eyes. You’re far too young to be carrying so much pain.”

“I don’t know what to do with it.” I told him. “It’s like it’s all entwined?” I motioned at my head and my heart. “Like the dark seeds that were planted in my head have bloomed dark flowers.” I held my hands upward on either side of my head.  “I’m sorry, that doesn’t make much sense.”

“It does,” he said. “You need to find a way to uproot the dark, Jamieson.”

That sounded ominous, like playing with shadows in the darkness where they could bite. I looked into his eyes at and for the first time in a long time, the sea that was always riling and turbulent within Francis’ eyes was still. The sea looked calm and still. He had been able to overcome the waves.

I wondered what kind of choice Francis had made for himself. I don’t know why that occurred to me, but it seemed like when I looked at him now, Francis seemed like he had been able to shuck off his own sadness. There had always been a light that shone brightly, but now when I looked into hie eyes, I could see the light of dusk as it hit the waves, carrying the glow into the night.

When we held each other that night, there was a deeper softness to his touch. I could hear the wind that still made the waves move within him. It took me a moment to realize that I could feel the wind within myself, that every time the breeze from the ocean that was inside Francis pushed the waves, I could feel the air enter me. I had never felt so alive, and I wanted to fly to where the wind wanted to take me. As I fell asleep beside Francis, I could hear the water and the air as they travelled over the water. I tried to hear what they were whispering to me, but the waves soon lulled me to sleep.

When sleep came, I let the wind take me.

Chapter Forty-Eight – Queen of Cups

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

There were always people at Lisa’s house.

One of Lisa’s friends was a woman named Darnelle. She had dark hair and a quick wit. She had been the one to introduce Paganism to Lisa and she seemed to resent Lisa for how little respect she showed the Magick. When she was in the house, I knew that I was in the presence of an elder and she made sure to let everyone know that.

“You can’t conduct a ceremony without calling the quarters,”

“Says who?”

“Says the way it’s always been done. You must respect tradition.” Darnelle would say.

“I want to make new traditions,” Lisa would respond.

They had this argument often and it got to the point where I could follow it like a tennis match. “But you have to respect the Gods,” Darnelle would respond.

“What do you think I’m trying to do? The whole ritual is to honour them.”

I didn’t understand the push and pull between them. To me, Magick and Paganism made a lot of things possible because it was so open. There was no right way to find your light. This is what all the people I knew in the community had taught me. They were all Pagan, but how each person had gotten to this point was different, just as their journeys were not the same.

I thought of my own journey that had brought me here and I knew that each step I had taken had been one of choice. Paganism existed in a place beyond choice. It simply was, shaped by a person’s ideals and what they believed. Their spirit told them what kind of things they needed. The fact that Darnelle always insisted that her way was the right way grated a little.

Yet she could be incredibly kind. She would stock Lisa’s fridge and cupboards without asking, showing up with bags of groceries. There were quite a few people living in Lisa’s apartment and all of us were on welfare. Money was thin, and the extra food was always a blessing.  She always had a spare cigarette for me, and I loved Darnelle despite her rigid stance on how the occult should be practiced.

I ended up going to see Darnelle on my own and would travel to her place to see her. My mother had walked away from me, so Darnelle became a kind of stand in for my mom. She had two children of her own and they were in and out of Darnelle’s house often. Even though Darnelle had a rigid sense of what was right and wrong in magic, she was keen to help me develop mine.

“I know you’re a warrior witch right now, but what path are you going to take when the need to fight is gone?” She motioned at me with a cigarette between two fingers. “Warrior magic is strong, but it can wear a person out. You don’t want to be guns blazing all the time.”

“I am strong.” I told her. I looked into her eyes, dark like a cave that invites you in but hides so many wonders not ever seen before.

 I took offense to the idea that she would find me weak. I wanted and needed to prove myself to her. Darnelle had this way of seeing what a person carried within them without them having to tell her anything. It was like she could see right into you and would judge you based on how strongly the rivers flowed within.

She lit another cigarette and looked at me through the smoke. “I never said you weren’t. But aren’t you tired of being strong all the fucking time? I told you that you can’t keep going at that rate, you’ll fucking burn out. Do you think I want that for you?”

I lit my own cigarette and took my time to respond. Darnelle demanded respect. You could speak your mind, but she demanded I take the time to respond and not lash out. She always wanted me to think of what I really wanted to say, what the heart of the matter was. “If I’m not a warrior, what am I?”

She shook her head. “No, you misunderstand me. You will always be a warrior, but practicing warrior Magick all the time will tap you out. Look at what it does to Lisa. She lets it be the excuse for her ignorance, uses it to be the reason for her rudeness.” Tapping her cigarette in the ashtray she left it there to smoke while she got up to put the kettle on. Taking out two earthenware mugs, she popped to orange pekoe bags into them and then came back for her cigarette. “No, you can’t be a warrior all the time. You’ve had to fight so much. You don’t have to be a warrior all the time.”

“I don’t know how to do anything else but fight.” I told her.

“Well, then maybe it’s time you look at magic that will help heal you instead of magic that will aid you for battle, hm?”

I watched as she put out her cigarette and went back to her kitchen to get the mugs of tea. I wondered about the idea of actually loving myself and letting myself heal from the scars that I carried not just on my skin, but also within me.

I added some milk and sugar to the tea, and we held up our mugs. “To healing,” Darnelle said.

When we clinked our mugs together, I imagined that I could hear the sound of bells over the whisper of the waves. I tried to listen to what the waves within me were saying and took a sip of my tea.

Chapter Forty-Six – Prince of Cups

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

“My mother is into the same shit as you are,” Max said.

I let out a snort. “Well, it’s not shit,” I said. “Magic isn’t shit, it’s the people that use it that take it to a darker place that are shit.”

She shrugged and shook her head when I offered her a cigarette. “Whatever. I mean, she was kind of into it before, but now it’s more so what with Francis and her being roommates for so long. Francis is the kind of guy that fills the world with wonder, everyone is drawn to him. I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

I was surprised to find myself blushing. “Is it that obvious?”

“Hey, I’m happy if you’re happy. Just be careful.”

I felt a moment of panic and I wasn’t sure why. “What do you mean? You don’t think that Francis is a bad person, do you?” I wondered if my gut had led me off course, but I knew Francis with my whole heart and spirit.

“No, no. He’s never been mean. But have you looked at him?”

“Of course I have, he’s beautiful.” I said.

She gave me a goofy grin and nudged my shoulder with her own. “I know that, but when you look into him, what do you see?”

I thought of every time that I looked into Francis’ eyes and the sea that always drew me in. I thought of the water every time I thought of Francis because of the endless sea that swirled within him. Depending on how many emotions he was holding onto, sometimes I swore that I could see fish swimming within the deep waters.. I told this to Max. “I just see the sea.” I said.

She nodded. “Everyone is so taken by it. I was, too. I still am a little but keep myself to myself for the most part.” She shook her head. “He’s never hurt me, not like that. But he’s just so sad.” Max looked like she was going to cry. I too her hand to give her some kind of comfort.

“Just be careful, okay? We got along like a house on fire at first, and he’s been like a dad to me for so long. But there’s just too much there. Too much,” she scrunched up her face, trying to think of the words she wanted to say. “Like, just think of taking a tsunami, the biggest and most epic one you’ve ever seen, and shove it all into one person. That’s like Francis. He holds too much. Haven’t you seen his moods?”

I nodded. I knew that Francis could get withdrawn and lost within himself, especially if he was sewing or creating something. Even after months with him, I knew little about him. I knew nothing about what it was like for him growing up, what it had been like for him growing up. He always wanted to focus on the now and the future, the one that we were making with each other. “I always want to talk about where I’ve come from so that I can appreciate where I am going.” I told her.

“Exactly. Francis never wants to talk about what came before. I mean, since he left his wife years ago, he’s only ever had one boyfriend. He’s been alone for years before he met you. That’s a lot of emotion to handle for someone Francis’ age, let alone you.”

“I love him even with the age difference.”

“I know you do. I just want you to be careful. You see no boundaries and no worries and I’m pretty sure that is sometimes all that Francis sees.” She took my hands in hers. “I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

She reached into my pack and took two cigarettes and handed one to me. “Just don’t tell my mom I’m smoking,” she said.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

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 Thirty-Nine – 4 of Cups

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

I found it difficult to sleep that night.

The pallet of foam beneath me felt like it was a cloud it felt as if I were moving all night, trying to find my way through the caves and caverns of dreamland. I felt like there was too much light within me. I wasn’t able to close my eyes against its brilliance.

There was a riot of emotions running through me and it almost felt like too much, the pull of the water within me too strong. I wasn’t used to feeling so much about someone. Even though I physically wanted someone, my emotions had long been turned off when it came to love. I dreamed about love, about the possibility of love and I’d wanted it for so long. It was impossible to think that I loved Francis already, but I knew the possibility of love was there, if I wanted it.

I twisted and turned and eventually let myself not sleep but dream. The only problem with dreams is that they don’t always go where you want them to go. In my half-sleep state, I dreamed of every boyfriend I’d ever had. By the time I could see the sun rising through Lisa’s bedroom window, I half convinced myself that the whole thing had been some kind of practical joke that had been played on me.

I just wasn’t convinced that any man could want me that much. My mind took me in all sorts of directions from wonder (I can’t believe that this happened to me!), to fear (what if he didn’t mean anything he had said?) and disbelief (he didn’t want me and there was no real connection). I had a world of voices in my head telling me that I wasn’t good enough for Francis. It was easy to ignore what they were saying if it was just one voice, but a whole chorus of them had almost convinced me that nothing had really happened by the time I got up and went to Lisa’s kitchen to start making a pot of coffee.

As I stood there waiting for the pot to brew, I gave my head a good shake. The chorus gave a loud scream in my mind as they scattered. It would be a while until they regrouped. I grabbed myself a mug, poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table so that I could light a cigarette. The smoke helped to clear my mind, too.

I didn’t know what to do, when I was going to speak to him or what would happen. I thought of taking up my tarot deck and seeing what the cards hat to say, but for once I didn’t want to know. I really just wanted to enjoy what I had experienced last night before my mind returned to push it away again. I wanted to remember the joy of it and how for one night I had felt special.

Lisa’s roommate Frank walked into the kitchen. “I thought I smelled coffee. Thanks man,” he said. Pouring himself a cup of black coffee, he sat at the table and lit a cigarette. “I know that look.”

“What look?” I asked.

“The look of someone who has a good thing and is trying to convince himself that it’s not worth it, he’ll just get hurt.”

I sat down and took hold of my own coffee. “Is it that obvious?”

Letting out a laugh, he gave me a knowing look. “Trust me, I’ve worn that look in the mirror lots of times.” Frank looked lost and his eyes. When he looked at me again, he seemed both in the room with me and lost in memories. “Don’t do what I do. I always run and convince myself that it would turn out horribly.” He let out a snort of laughter that loosened the lost look in his eyes. “It is horrible. I’m always alone.” He puffed out a plume of smoke. “I saw that kiss, Jamieson. I wouldn’t be walking away from that.”

My pager let out a beep. Looking down at the display, I saw it was Francis’ number. I checked my pocket for a quarter, grabbed my bag and made my way to Bronson and found a payphone there. I took a deep breath and said a prayer to the gods that this call would go well and that maybe, just maybe, Francis had been thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him. I dialed his number and Francis picked up after the first ring.

“Hello!”

Even his voice over the phone made my body feel warm. “Hi!” I said. I wasn’t thinking about trying to sound cool and composed. I closed my eyes cringing in case he said there was a mistake and that there was no way he could ever be with me.

“I’ve been thinking about you non-stop. Your ears must have been on fire this morning.”

“More like my whole body,” I said without thinking.

“Mine, too.” He said. “It’s like you’ve woken me up from a long sleep. Are you doing anything right now?”

“No,” I said. “I’m not busy with anything.”

“Can you come and see me? I would offer to pick you up, but I don’t have a car.”

“It’s okay, I have bus fare.”

“Okay, take the 85.” He said. He gave me the address and I knew where it was along the bus route. “I’ll come and meet you at the bus stop and we can walk back to my place. Would that be okay? I really want to talk to you some more. It seemed like we didn’t get enough time last night.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Good, that’s good.” He sounded as nervous as I felt.

“There’s an 85 coming down the street now. I can hop on and be there in about fifteen.”

“That’s amazing. I’ll see you soon, Jamieson.”

I hung up the phone and ran across the street so that I could catch the bus. I hopped on and thought about what I would find when I got there. Would Francis capture my attention just as much as he had when we had met?

I was betting on yes. I sat there with my bag on my lap, too nervous and keyed up to read. I just sat waiting for my stop, wondering what awaited me on this path that I had chosen not to turn away from.