Tag: Air

Chapter Fifty-Six – 8 of Swords

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

I looked at the world around me.

I wondered how I fit within it and where I belonged. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere. I was between two places, where I was and where I wanted to be. An itch had started underneath my feet, and I didn’t know what it meant. I had chosen to stay. I would help Lisa through the birth of her child and then think of what I wanted to do.

The only problem was, I didn’t know what that was. What was after this? I felt stuck and not stuck at the same time, as if my body, mind and spirit all wanted different things and the only thing that I could think of doing was remain in place. I looked at Lisa and the life that she was growing within her and my life before, now and after. I had no idea where I was going. Lisa was fine with this life, but I felt like it didn’t fit me anymore. Yet, I was afraid of what would come after.

I felt damaged after Francis. It was as if by setting me free, he had taken all the confidence he had given me, too. I had felt like I could do anything but now I didn’t know how to. I was unsure of how to move forward. Francis had made a move for himself and left me behind to flounder in the dark.

I don’t know why I was having so much difficulty making space for myself without Francis. I knew that we were done and that there was no going back and nor would I want to. He hadn’t given me the respect that I had deserved. I felt lost and uncertain about where I was supposed to go and what I was supposed to do now.

It was Sophie that gave me the answer.

“You look like you need some kind of reset.” She told me.

We were at one of her dinners. Fox, Lisa, Jenn and a few others were there. We were sitting in the living room after dinner and Sophie pointed at me. “You have this look of a rabbit about your eyes, and you don’t know which direction to go in.”

“I’ve noticed it, too.” Lisa said. “I knew that you needed some space after Francis was such a dick, but it’s been a while.”

“Gods, was it that obvious?” I said. “I felt like I was hiding it pretty well.”

Lisa snorted out loud. “If you mean by hiding it that you’ve been wandering around our place looking for something you haven’t even lost, then you’re doing a good job of it.”

I felt my spirit sag within me. “I’m sorry,” I told them.

Jules, a new person to the group, took my hand in hers. “You don’t need to apologize. Fuck, when my last boyfriend and I broke up, I was a fucking mess for a year. Just because you know you’re done with the relationship doesn’t mean you’re done with the grief. That shit takes time.”

“What do I do in the meantime?” I asked the group.

“I just told you; you need a spiritual reset.” Sophie said.

“What kind of reset?” I asked, almost in a hushed whisper.

“I’ve already talked about it.” Lisa said. “We need to take you to the Kaleidoscope Festival.”

“Ugh, camping?” I said.

“It’s not as bad as all that. You’ve never camped with a bunch of pagans. Picture it, there are hundreds of us all camping at this site. There’s booze, magic and firelight.” The light in Lisa’s eyes shone and I knew that she was travelling back Kaleidoscope’s from her past. “There is magic all over the fucking place. Nothing I can say will do it justice, it’s something that you have to experience.”

“Besides, you’ve been wanting to immerse yourself in magic.” Jenn said. “Kaleidoscope is the way to do it. It’s a powerful place.”

I knew that I needed to break out of whatever funk I was in. If Kaleidoscope was the place for a spiritual reset, then I was going. Anything was better than the state I was in. I knew that it was all in my mind, that I wasn’t disposable and that there was a light inside me that desperately wanted to grow bright again.

I would nurture that weak flame until I could find the fire.  

Chapter Fifty-Four – 6 of Swords

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

Sophie was beginning work on a tarot deck.

She had gathered a few of her Pagan friends to be different cards. A lot of people wanted to be part of the Major Arcana cards, but I was fine with just being included in the deck. When Sophie told me that I could have my choice of the Minor Arcana, I thought about what I was trying to achieve on this new path without Francis. I had gone from being part of something to being alone and, though I recognized what he had done to protect himself, I wasn’t sure how to move forward.

“You’re such a Swords,” she said, describing the suit as if it were a personality trait. “You’re a writer and a creative like me and Swords are such a creative suit.”

I shook my head. “I just find them so violent.”

“They don’t have to be, it depends on how you look at them. You wouldn’t be the Ace of Swords, maybe the Two of Swords?”

I shook my head again. “Can’t there be another card?”

Sophie looked me up and down, wondering where to place me in her deck. After some time, she spoke. “How about the Two of Pentacles? You’re just starting on your true creative journey, so how about we give you some balance as you go forward?”

She had me dress in a white’s poets’ blouse and striped pants, as if I were some kind of circus performer. I took Sophie’s hand with my left hand, and I took hold of her boyfriend James’ with my right.  They had me get up on to a large tree branch and when I was balanced, they let go so that James could take the photo with Sophie directing him and making sure that he got the right shot. High up on the branch, I could see everything and everyone that was at the farm. Francis was the Magician card, and Lisa was the Star card. Jess was the Hermit and Fox was trying to be The Emperor, but Sophie wanted Fox to be The Hange Man, but Fox didn’t want to hang from a tree as James had suggested.

I had seen Francis walking around all morning and just as I stayed away from him, he stayed from me. I tried to keep my eyes from looking at him, but they were drawn to Francis and the surety that he conducted himself with. He walked around the grounds with such confidence that I was jealous of him. I didn’t feel nearly that comfortable with myself, especially with the storm that he had caused within me.

My eyes were drawn to Francis as Sophie and James helped me along the long tree branch. It felt like I was perched within the trees and I smelled the earth. I could also feel the wind moving around me. The day was hot and humid, and the wind was warm. I could smell honeysuckle and the ever-present smell of manure that was used as fertilizer from the farm next door. I could smell the leaves of trees and the mustiness that came from the shadows.

I turned away from Francis and the pain that he caused in me. I had tried to patch the holes that he had left in my heart, but I could hear the wind whistling through them. My heart sounded hollow, and I wanted to fill it with something else other than the withered heart that I had chosen to keep safe inside of a metal box. Looking out at the wide-open expanse of the fields in front of me, I let myself imagine the grass like a green sea that could take me somewhere else where I could let myself heal.

I looked away from Francis and what he represented and chose to turn away from him and toward what would come in the future instead. I knew that he had been my first love, but I knew that there would be others.

Sophie explained that I would have to balance on the tree branch on my own for a few minutes while James grabbed the shot from different angles and she made sure that I would be comfortable with that. The Pentacles would be added in digitally afterwards. I nodded and they both took their hands away. I followed Sophie’s instructions about how she wanted me to pose.

I let nodded again and put my arms out on either side of me to get my balance before I moved them in front of me. With my cerebral palsy, I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to stay on the tree branch, but right now, for this moment, I was holding my balance, and I didn’t feel like I was going to fall. I was surprised by how free I felt.

With my palms held open to the sun and my gaze on the sky and sea of grass, I felt like I was flying.

Chapter Fifty – Ace of Swords

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

I had given the pages to Lisa ten minutes before, and I’d already had two cigarettes.

I hadn’t written a short story for such a long time. I had filled page after page with poetry, bit and pieces of dialogue, but I hadn’t written anything close to a short story since my days in high school. I hadn’t felt that I had anything to say as a story, but there were too many words in my mind, too many syllables sneaking past my lips that I had to find a way to get them out of me.

A story seemed like a good way to use as many words and letters as possible so that I could relieve the pressure that even poetry couldn’t ease. For every word I put down, ten more came to the surface. They didn’t fit in my poems, and it was as if these words found the form of poetry too confining, all shoved into form and shape. When I wrote poetry, I tried to follow the flow of the poem and convey what I wanted to say in as few words as possible. These words felt different. I could hear conversations between two people, and I knew that those words didn’t belong in a poem.

I needed to cut through the cloud of words if I was to get any kind of peace. Opening my current journal, I wrote the first thing that came to mind. It was a short story about a boy named Oliver that didn’t believe in magic, and yet magic was all around him. A troll showed up under his bed and the troll had a flatulence problem and kept farting throughout the story. When I was writing the story, I wrote what wanted to come out and had a fantastic time. Yet, when the story was done, I thought it was silly and stupid. Part of me had been reluctant to show it to Lisa, but she had seen me scribbling away and she wanted to know what I had written.

“You know, this is as good as Charles de Lint,” she said.

I blushed and mumbled my thanks, trying to find words that could express my joy at having Lisa compare my story to Charles de Lint. I knew that she meant it, too and how much she revered his work. Both Lisa and I loved Charles de Lint. My biggest influences for wanting to write in the first place were authors like Stephen King, Tanya Huff and Charles de Lint. I wanted to tell my own stories, but I didn’t think I had anything new to say. Lisa had pushed aside my worries. “Jamieson, every story has been told already. You just have to find your voice and tell you own.”

“If every story has already been told, then why would anyone want to read my writing?” I had asked her.

“Because they will have been waiting to hear what you have to say.”

I hadn’t been so sure, but I had sat down and written my story anyways, regardless of what the internal critic yelled at me. When I got to the end of Oliver and the Trolls, I wrote down the beginning of a new short story. I didn’t know where the words were coming from, but I didn’t want to stop their flow. As Lisa had sat there reading my story and flipping through the pages, I had told myself that even if she didn’t like it, I would keep writing. I knew that I had a story to tell.

“Seriously, Jamieson. I mean it. I mean, I love your poetry but it’s all dark and moody. This story is the first time that I’ve read something of yours that’s funny. I mean, you’re a brilliant poet and I love the spells you write, but this is the first time that you’ve done something funny. It’s so good. You got dark and full of shadows down pat, but I think you have a real gift with humour.”

That surprised me. Up until I had written the story, I hadn’t even thought of writing something funny, but it’s what came out. “I wanted to write about a boy discovering magic,” I said. “There’s no reason that magic has to be huge and terrifying. It’s all around us if we have the eyes to look.”

“Jamieson, the biggest magic in the world if laughter. I know that this story will make people laugh and there is so much magic in that. You need to try writing more. What happens to Oliver next?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, why not find out?” She clicked open her lighter and lit a cigarette for each of us and passed one to me. “I know that all artistic folk like you exist on another plain from the rest of us, you have to in order to hear what you do and be so driven to create. But I’m glad you cut through the doom and gloom a little and found your voice.”

She took a puff of her cigarette and let out a huge plume of smoke and I couldn’t help being reminded of the caterpillar from Alice and Wonderland who spouted wisdom in the form of a riddle. I wondered if I had finally found my voice, or at least another facet of it.

I thought of Alice going down the rabbit hole and I knew that by cutting through the fog of self doubt and writing something different from what I was used to, I was going down my own rabbit hole.

I wondered who I would be when I found my way out on the other side.