Tag: Clarity

Chapter Fifty-Nine – Page of Swords

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

I lost myself to the night.

I could hear the fire and drumming behind me as I walked the pathways to my tent. The release at the fire had left me revitalized but also exhausted. I had been holding on to so much that it was a blessing to let go. At the same time, I wanted to fill the empty parts of me with something so that I didn’t feel so empty.

Strolling without any purpose, it was a while before I noticed the footsteps behind me. “Jamison, hold up.”

Turning, I saw that it was a man I had seen around the Pagan brunches named Soph. He had always been nice to me. He had shoulder length brown hair and kind brown eyes. As he made his way towards me, I saw that he had dressed for the fire. He was wearing a sarong with a belt fastened around his waist. From the belt came the sound of bells as he ran. The sarong was a rust-colour that took on the colour of the night and his flashlight as he made his way toward me. He had painted his upper body in sparkles. As he came closer to me, he slowed down and smiled at me, his teeth looking bright in the light from my flashlight.

“Jamieson, hi.”

“Hi Soph.”

“I saw you leave the fire. Want to go for a walk?”

“Sure,” I said. My walls were down and gone again and I was afraid of what that would mean for me. I was curious to know what Soph wanted from me; we had barely spoken a few words to each other. I don’t think he realized how much I said in that one word. I reminded myself that not everyone was there to hurt me unless I let them.

“Cool,” he said.

Reaching out he took my hand and I let him. It was the first time that I had let another man hold my hand or get that close to me since Francis. It felt good just to let someone get that close to me, especially since I now had little standing in the way between the two of us.

We let our flashlights light up the path in front of us. We could hear the sounds of water lapping against the rocks nearby and I could hear our breathing, the crickets in the plants that lines the path. The sound of my heartbeat got louder in my ears, and I wondered if Soph could hear it too. Every time I looked over at him, he smiled and I felt myself smiling back, despite my fear.

We stopped walking and Soph pointed up to the leaves of the trees. “See?” he said. “The moon is full. We always try to have the fire dancing at the same time as the full moon. That way people can really let go and if they fuck up and get stupid, they can just say that the moon made them do it.”

I laughed despite myself. The joke had caught me so unawares and it was so true. I had witnessed many people hooking up around the fire. “I wonder if they’ll remember.”

Soph let out a snort. “Maybe not…” He looked uncomfortable for a second before speaking again. “I want to remember this night. It must be the fire, but I can’t believe that I’m being brave enough to speak to you.”

It was my turn to feel uncomfortable. I scuffed my feet in the dirt. “What do you mean? You could have just talked to me anytime.”

“Yeah, but you’re so…you.” I looked at him with confusion, and he ran his hands through his hair and but his bottom lip. His eyes looked wide in the light from our flashlights. “That didn’t come out right.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“No, it’s not. I mean, crap. Let me start again.” Taking a deep breath, he took my free hand again and held onto it. “I’ve liked you for ages. Then you got with Francis and I should have spoken up or said something before now. And now you’re sad and I can’t stand it.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I listened to the water for a moment and the sound of our breathing. I could feel Soph’s heartbeat in his fingers and his heart was beating quickly. Mine matched his and I was able to listen to my heart beating in tandem with his.

The fact that he would feel this way about me floored me. I never considered that people I didn’t know very well had chosen to like me even though we hadn’t shared a conversation. “Thanks,” I told him. I meant to stop there, but my mind had other ideas. “But you don’t need to worry about me.”

He shook his head. “I’m always going to worry about the people I like.” He paused and took in a breath that looked to contain courage because he forged on despite his nervousness. “I like you, Jamieson.”

We shared a kiss under the moonlight. His lips were completely unlike Francis’. Soph’s lips were soft and welcoming, and we explored the depths of each other with our tongues. For a moment, I had a notion that I was being unfaithful to Francis.

Soph must have felt something in my lips or intuitively felt something because he pulled back from me slightly. “I just want to give you a different perspective on things. You need to remember that you are beautiful. I want to help you remember that.”

I almost shrunk back from him. It was in that moment I realized how much damage Francis had done and how much self-doubt that he had left me with. I had been making it myself, building the chains one link at a time. If I squinted my eyes and looked to the left and right of me, I could see the rows of chains the dirt path, snaking their way behind us.

“I’d like that,” I said. He must have head my heartbeat increase because he smiled at me and his teeth flashed in the darkness, the light from our flashlights lighting the way back to his tent. I took his hand and let him lead me to his tent.

He entered the tent before me and I followed. I turned to zip the tent and could see a flash of metal, the chains had fallen away. I zipped the tent closed and turned my mind to other things and the gentle hands of a man who only wanted to make me feel beautiful.  

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.

Chapter Nineteen – The Sun

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Tarot

I was at the Mission having lunch when I heard someone call out my brother’s name.

Turning automatically, I saw shock and knowing on the persons face. “Your him, but not him, aren’t you?”

“If you mean my brother, then yes and no.” I took in the sight of this man. He looked quite a few years older than me, mid thirties or so. His eyes were filled with curiosity and openness, which was rare. Almost all the people I had met here had storms in their eyes, having survived some kind of trauma and it left a mark on people. He had clouds in his eyes, but even from where I sat, when the clouds moved, I could see the light within him.

“I see that. You are less of a storm than he was and more of the sun.”

Beside me, Sunshine leaned forward. “My name is Sunshine, so what am I?”

The man blinked at him. “You are radiant, I think.”

“Oh, I like this guy.” Sunshine stage whispered to me.

“How long did you know my brother?”

The man shrugged. His hair was combed, and he had a bushel of a moustache and a thick grey beard. He reminded me of a librarian as he was wearing a cardigan and what looked like glasses hanging from a chain around his neck. “I knew him for some time. He was very kind to me on a few occasions and that’s not something you forget.

I thanked him and Sunshine and I finished our meal. As we were about to leave the table, the man called out to me. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, young man. You need to look for what brings you joy. There is a storm brewing in you and I would hate for it to consume you.”

I shrugged. “I do have joy.” I looked over at Sunshine.

“You need a joy all your own. You can’t always depend on others to be around to keep your light alive.” He tapped my chest gently with the first two fingers of his right hand. “You need to find that joy and carry it in here. That will see you through.”

I thanked him, resisting the urge to give him a hug. I didn’t know if it was okay to hug strangers and I did want to hug him, but I resisted. Maybe he could see me hesitating because he took me in a soft and gentle hug. I let him hug me and I hugged him back. It was the first time that an older man had hugged me, and it brought me so much comfort instead of the fear that my father brought to life. He had never hugged me like this, simply for the sake of a hug. Every time that my father had come close, it had been to hurt, not to heal.

The man smelled of spicy aftershave and tobacco and I breathed that scent in. I’m not sure how long that hug went on for, only that for that moment, all that existed was that embrace. “You are braver than you know. Remember, joy is out there if you are willing to look for it.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. I blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling.

Sunshine and I left the Mission and walked towards the YSB. I lit a cigarette, took a drag and handed it to him.

“That’s pretty amazing.”

“What is?”

“When everyday angels like that show up in your path.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom always used to tell me about ordinary people that come into our paths just for an instant. They are supposed to bring us clarity, show us the road ahead or just help us in a moment of need.”

“Do you really think that’s what that man was? Some kind of angel?”

“Don’t you?” Sunshine said.

I thought about what the man had said. I needed to find my own joy in order to keep my light alive. I thought of the storm that had raged in my brother for as long as I’ve known him. It gave him the monicker of bad son and troublemaker, but I knew that what propelled him was a need to find out where his place was in this world and not being able to find a place for himself.

I was going through the same journey now and had to let go of the fear. I needed to remind myself that I had a lot to be joyful about. I had my street family, I had Sunshine, I had friends. I may not know where I was going, but I could see the road ahead of me more than I had been able to before.

There was joy to be found in that. I pictured a candle inside my chest right next to my heart. Its wick was lit with a small flame, a pinprick of light. It was a spark that had been given life inside of me. I cupped my hands around that small flame to keep it safe. I needed to shine my own light and every light began with a spark.

Chapter Sixteen – The Tower

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

When I saw her, my first thought was of fire.

She had spiky red and gold hair, brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. She was always smiling, and I wondered how a person could be a never ending source of light instead of puzzle or some kind of maze. I wasn’t used to that. Everyone was a kind of puzzle if you thought about it; you had to figure your way through what they held dear and see if resembled yours. It took years to know a person completely.

Renee wasn’t like that. She loved everyone equally and it didn’t matter who they were. Even if you chose to live outside and shunned the shelters, she loved you. If you had an issue with drugs, that didn’t matter. She always talked to you like you mattered.

She saw everyone.

I knew that I always lit up when I saw her as I began to run into her with more frequency. I didn’t know much about where she had come from and how she had ended up on the streets, but from the moment I ran into her in the YSB, it was like were drawn to each other.

I was a moth to a flame when I saw her.

All of my walls would come down. It wasn’t a question of hiding anything or observing their actions so I knew if I could trust them. There was none of that. I was instantly open  with her as there wasn’t even an iota of fear. I had only met one other person like that in my life up to that point. Those kinds of people are rare in life.

To say I was enraptured would be an understatement.

“Honey, you sound like you’re in love with her.” Sunshine said. He had just read a page of one of his journals and had asked me what happened during my day. I had spent the last five minutes talking about everything that Renee and I had done that day.

“Yeah, like I love you,” I told him. “Like we’re friends.”

“Do you ever mention to other people how my hair looks when the sun hits it just right?” He asked, giving me a wide grin.

“No, I tell them how awesome you are.”

“I know you do, what’s not to love. But you’re talking like you are in love with her.”

“That’s not possible, I’m gay.” I told him. I sat there looking at him, a new blanket I had gotten draped around my shoulders. I had picked it up at the Mission earlier and I pulled it closer around me despite the relative heat of the evening.

I thought of everything that I had given up to be gay, all that I had left behind to finally claim who I really truly was. I had struggled so much to be true to who I was. I had tried committing suicide twice in my teens, I had survived an abusive homelife and I overcome the mountain of high school, the ledge that should have been a place of safety that would help me see my path in the future but instead was a place of judgement, hatred and isolation.

I had survived everything to be what I was. It had been a secret for so long that finally owing up to the truth of who I was often felt like a waterfall that had been in front of me all this time had finally parted to let me through so that I could see what was on the other side.

“There are all kinds of love, Jamie. You love who you love, it’s your business.” He gave my hand a rub and lit a cigarette. He took a drag and passed it to me. “It doesn’t mean you have to sleep with her, but you can get as close as you want to. There’s no judgement. The normal rules don’t apply here.”

I passed him back the cigarette and when I let the smoke go free from my mouth, I let the blanket loosen around me. Sunshine had gone back to writing and I pulled out my tarot cards to figure out what I should do. I shuffled pulled out the Tower and the Seven of Pentacles. I looked within the guidebook and tried to determine what my future would bring.