Tag: A Sort of Tarot Guide

Chapter Eleven – Justice

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

There was a justice on the street that hadn’t been in my life before.

In my life that had been, bullies sometimes went unchecked, those that were different were hurt and often there was no way to find retribution. The street held a kind of law and an unspoken rule of conduct. If someone was down, you held them up. It someone had been hurt by someone else, you stood up for them. I’d come to realize in a short time that you protected those that you were close to. It was just something you did without thinking about it.

Fast friendships formed and these people cemented themselves into your life and it was like you knew them right away. It was like this with Angel. I hadn’t known her at all when I had first met her, but now I searched her out whenever I was at YSB or the square. She filled my life with light, and I tended to gravitate towards it, not to drink from it but so I could bask in her glow.

It was healing to be next to her and her warmth filled over into my life. She would often draw her chalk art on the pavement of the square and put a hat out to collect change. Her art was so beautiful and lifelike that it looked like it could rise up out off the pavement and come to life. I was amazed that she could create such beautiful art with chalk on something as hard and unfriendly as the pavement. It seemed like a wonderful kind of balance whenever Angel worked the chalk into the cold pavement and brought it to life. Angel found life in the world that hadn’t been there before, and I marveled as I watched her work.

“Did you want to write something?” She asked.

I shrugged. “Well, nothing I write will be as good as your art.”

She stopped drawing and gave me a stern look. “Don’t say that. You’re a beautiful writer and your poetry is incredible. Why don’t you write a poem to go with my drawing. You can take your time with it. Here,” she handed me a piece of white chalk

I held it for a moment, watching her bring a woman to life within a forest of leaves. She looked out at me from within the window that Angel had created for her, and I could see her looking up at me. I looked into the woman’s eyes and began to write her story, scratching the white chalk onto the pavement.

I watched as both of our creations came to life together, my words taking inspiration from her. “She looks like she’s looking up at me from behind a window.” I told her. “Or like she’s outside looking within.”

Angel nodded and worked window lines in front of the chalk woman’s face. Only a few lines had been added, but it brought the chalk painting alive for me, made the final words of my poem come out and tumble from my fingers.

“There,” Angel said. We sat back and looked at our piece of art, my words a balance to her world of colours. I hadn’t noticed, but the amount of money in the hat had grown quite a bit. When the day was over, Angel handed me half.

“I can’t take that,” I said. “I wrote my poem for fun.”

“I painted my lady in the window for fun, too. We both worked hard in our own way and should both get paid for what we made. Fuck, I made more today than had it just been me painting. We helped each other.” She put the money into my hand and folded my fingers over it. “I mean, you didn’t see the people going to walk by my art, but they stopped to read your words and what you had written. We did it together, Jamie.”

We gathered up our windfall and headed towards McDonalds on Rideau Street. We could treat ourselves to something. I usually got a Fillet o’Fish and Angel would get nuggets or a Big Mac. We could eat in the restaurant and be near a washroom, pretend that we were normal, just for a moment.

I remember getting our food and thinking about the poem I had written. Eventually, both the drawing and my poem would be gone, never to exist again. It’s not like Angel and I could take a copy of her drawing, and I hadn’t thought to write down a copy of the words I had left behind.

I was okay with that.

It was our give to those that had given us the money we had in our pockets. The art and the words belonged to them, and we had left our magic in the streets. I wondered if others would be guided by the flash of the woman’s blue eyes or the curve of the vowels I had penned.

In that moment, I thought of the chalk dust we had marked the pavement with like stars, waiting to lead others to where they would find their magic.

Chapter Ten – The Wheel of Fortune

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

Rainbow was a consummate host.

He made sure that I was comfortable, and we became close. There was nothing romantic between us. Truthfully, it was just good to have a friend. I knew a lot of people on the street, but there weren’t many that I could call friend, at least not yet. It felt good to have a friend in a world that was so new to me.

I gave too much of myself away to other people. I had always been told that this was one of my failings. I couldn’t help it; I was hardwired that way, the eternal peacekeeper. It was the role I had been used to playing because it had been safer.  

I also knew when to keep myself safe and balance that with the role of a peacekeeper. I had put up a wall with Shades and I had been building it for a while. It was a way of keeping everyone happy and ensure my safety. I had been taught to do this since I was young. Growing up, there needed to be a someone to keep the peace with my father. It was easier than the alternative which happened all too often.

It was wonderful to have someone in my life who I could be myself with and not worry about romantic entanglements, protecting myself and trying to look for what was underneath so that I could see what the other person was hiding. Sunshine was completely himself and I had never known anyone like him before. I felt safe to be with him and didn’t have to hide anything about myself. I didn’t want to tell him my life story, but his behaviour towards me let me know that I could if I wanted to.

One evening, we were both scribbling away in our journals. He had given me a spare one of his as I had filled up my notebook, even with the extra paper. “I still think that my journals are going to be published some day,” he said softly over the music of pen scratching. “I wonder what kind of people will read them? Who they will be? Did you ever wonder who will read your words?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what story I want to tell.”

He shrugged. “You have to let yourself live, Jamie. You think too much. I can see it in your eyes. You’re always trying to think past the next few steps, what comes next. It must be so tiring. You have to just live day by day. Don’t worry about tomorrow before you live today.” He handed lit a cigarette and passed one to me, lit one for himself. They were slim 100’s in a gold and black carton. I felt fancy and so literary when I smoked these cigarettes. They reminded me of black and white film stars.

I sat there looking at the blank page in front of me. I knew that I wanted to start a new cycle for myself. I also knew that I had been lucky to find Sunshine when I arrived on the streets. He had been a friend from the word go. I looked at him writing out of the corner of my eyes as I tried writing some words. He was completely himself and I knew that if I was going to make it out here on my own that I would have to look at myself in a different way.

I was not a victim in any of this. Though the place I had known as my home had been taken from me and nothing was like it had been, that didn’t mean that this was horrible. I had found safety with Sunshine and I had found my freedom again. I had left home on my own when I was sixteen and I been okay. I could do this again. I didn’t have to be afraid anymore. I couldn’t be afraid if I was going to make it and the thing of it was that I knew I could make it and that I had already made it by not going back to my stepfather grovelling at his feet for him to take me back into a house that had never really been a home anyways.

Looking down at the paper in front of me, I drew a door. I flipped to the other side of the page and drew an open doorway. The smoke from my cigarette made it seem like there was fog coming from within my words and all I had to do was see past the mist to find where my words had been hiding.

Taking a drag from my cigarette, I put my pen to a clean sheet of paper and let my words free.

Chapter 4 – The Emperor

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

As I began to make my way around the streets, I began to meet more people.

They were from all walks of life and many of them had chosen the streets because the anonymity had provided them with something they didn’t have before: safety. We were all outrunning our own kinds of demons.

One of the people I hadn’t met yet was Jesus. That’s what everyone called him. I’m not sure what his actual name was, but the name suited him. He treated everyone with a benevolence that didn’t speak of worship, but more of a kind of fundamental respect. I asked Sunshine who he was when I first saw him.

“That’s Jesus. He’s pretty cool. He’s like our protector, you know? You can’t approach him though. You have to wait until you’re summoned to meet him.” He shrugged at my look of confusion. “It’s his way. He keeps an eye out for all of us and makes sure that we all have places to go to sleep and eat.”

Jesus was taller than anyone else around him. He had long hair, and the ends had been dyed black. He had tattoos covering almost every surface of skin that was visible. There were multiple piercings in his ears and his skin was darkly tanned from spending a lot of his time outside. Despite his fierce exterior, I knew that there was a kind soul within him because I watched the way that he interacted with everyone else. He really did seem like a wiseman walking amongst his flock.

I was sitting in the Square when Jesus came for me. It was a section of the Byward Market where all the street kids hung out when the weather was good. We gathered in groups and clusters of people. I would sit and watch Angel as she drew her chalk drawings that were so hyper realistic they looked like photographs. Friends met there, hung out and felt like they were part of something, even if it was just for an afternoon. Everyone there just wanted to belong. We had left our families, or been pushed out, but that didn’t stop the need to find our spot.

I was sitting on the pavement, my back against a wall, reading a book. It was called Time Cat and it was about a cat that helped heal the world by travelling through time. A shadow fell across my page and when I looked up and found myself looking into the kind and wise eyes of Jesus.

“Mind if I sit with you?” He asked before sitting down.

“Sure,” I said, trying to keep the awe from my voice.

He handed me a cigarette and lit it for me. I’d come to realize that cigarettes were how people on the street showed kindness. They gave one, even if it was all they had to give. Jesus took a drag and looked at me. I tried to keep the fear off of my face. He was very intimidating. Finally, he nodded as if he had come to a decision.

“You look like him, but only just. There are a lot of differences.”

I knew he was referring to my brother. “Well, we are identical twins.”

“Nah, it’s more than that. You may look alike outside,” Jesus patted his face. “But you’re different here.” He put his hand on his heart.

I nodded as if I understood, but I didn’t. Not yet.

“Now, your brother got himself into a lot of trouble. You need to remember that there is only one rule out here: Your word is all you have. When you have nothing, all you have is your word. I need you to remember that. It was something your brother forgot from time to time, and it got him in trouble.” He let out a puff of smoke and in the sunlight, it looked as if he were part ghost, part man, able to choose between the sun and the shadow. “I don’t want that for you.”

He stood and gave me a pack of cigarettes and some change he had collected. “You’ll find your way; I know you will. Just remember what I told you, okay?”

I nodded, and I could feel the words etching themselves into my skin. A small part of me wondered how easy they would be to unravel.

Chapter Three – The Empress

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

There were many people who showed me kindness, fresh as I was to the streets.

None more so than Sunshine. He truly fit the name he had chosen for himself. I remember the first time I saw him. He exuded colour and I watched as he walked and talked to others. Their very faces lit up when he spoke to them, truly a light in their lives. There was a brightness about him that was genuine.

He came up to me right away and hugged me as if he had known me forever. He could feel me tensing up. I wasn’t prepared or used to random acts of kindness like a hug. From what my brother had told me, you had to protect yourself and protect your own. You could make friends, sure, but never let your guard down.

It didn’t feel like Sunshine had any guard up at all. He was just so completely himself that you couldn’t help but love him back. Loving Sunshine was instantaneous, and it felt wonderful in a world that had all of a sudden become very uncertain.

“Honey! Hi!” He hugged me again. “I know who you are of course. I knew your brother. Everyone here does. Who are you staying with? You gotta come with me, I’m going to take you some place nice. It’s wonderful. Have you ever heard of the Youth Service’s Bureau?”

He talked in a constant stream and I had to keep up with him. When I told him that I was staying with Shades, he pulled a face. “That one, I don’t know. I tell you, I’ve seen him around and you gotta be careful with him.” His face darkened as if a shadow had come alive across his skin. “He takes what he wants. Just know that whatever happens, you can come and stay with me, okay?”

He took me to the front doors of the Youth Services Bureau, and it didn’t look like much, just another building. I had no idea what to expect, but when we walked through the doors, the first thing I noticed were the kids like me. They were all milling about and there was food being served. Sunshine took my hand and brought me further into the building, introducing me to everyone there.

“That’s Angel, she’s an amazing artist. You should see her chalk drawings. This is Teddy. He’s trying to figure out who he is like we all are. This is Mike and Tash, they’re dating, and Tash is a photographer. Mike writes slam poetry. Josh and Nicky are like cousins or something, and they’re both singers.”

It seemed that the streets held no end of talent. Looking around the YSB, I could see kids reading while they ate or talking on a nearby telephone. There were other kids painting or drawing. I was drawn to the large bookshelf filled with copies of books that had been loved. “We’re free to take a book if we want one, isn’t that cool? There’s even a place where we can get showers if we need one.”

I followed him out to a small courtyard out back. There were a couple of picnic tables and there were more kids smoking. Sunshine and I joined them and he gave me a cigarette and lit it for me. Taking a puff off his own, he cocked his head at me. “You look like you’re full of questions, honey. So, spill.”

It took me a moment to form what I wanted to ask. There were so many words running around him my mind and I didn’t know where to start. Finally, I spoke the question that came to my lips. I tried to ignore the fear in the back of my head. “Everyone is themselves.” I said. “I don’t know if I will ever be that confident here or that comfortable.”

“Honey, don’t believe a word of it. Angel left home to get away from her parents. Teddy was kicked out when he told his parents that he liked boys. Mike found Tash living on the streets in Montreal and she came home with him here. Josh and Nicky had to go into foster care after their parents left.” He took my free hand in his. “We’re all just making it through the best we can. We all look out for each other, and that includes you.”

We sat on the tables, our eyes closed, and our faces upturned towards the sun.

Prologue – 0 – The Fool

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

“You need to leave,” he said.

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.