Tag: Clive Barret

Chapter Fifty-Seven – 9 of Swords

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

My first impression of Kaleidoscope was one of joy.

When our car drove up to the camping site, there were already hundreds of people that had arrived earlier that day. They milled about in the hot summer sun wearing whatever they pleased. There were men wearing dresses and skirts, women wearing leather and others wearing loin cloths and sandals. Others were wearing feather boas with sparkle paint all over their bodies and they glittered in the sun. I watched them move and the blinking of the sun made it look as if they were filled with light.

I heard people calling out to each other and I wanted to jump out of the car and throw myself into this world at the same time that I wanted to hide away in the car. The will to experience the rhythm won out and I knew that I wanted to lose myself in the crowd.

My body was vibrating with possibility and the smoke coming from my cigarette was dancing with the music I could hear in the air. As we parked, I opened the car door and stepped out into summer heat, I could hear drum music playing somewhere in the distance, the sound of people talking and somewhere nearby, a person singing along with the beat of the drums. The air around me was filled with magic. The chill that had been within me since Francis melted a little as I stood there letting the sun shine down on me.

Soon, we had gathered all of our bags and food and were trying to find our way in what was known as tent city. I felt disoriented by the sea of coloured surfaces, walkways and paths. I kept looking around me, trying to commit everything to memory.

“Don’t worry,” Lisa said. “You’ll get used to it. By the end of the week, you will be able to find your way from the swimming hole back to the tent. I know it doesn’t seem like it now but trust me. The land here takes care of us if we take care of it.”

Lisa had found me a space near her tent. That way, we could wake and make breakfast over the open fire together. Lisa’s boyfriend Carl had arrived before us and had chosen a really wonderful group of plots that were close to the portable toilets. “This is where you want to be,” Lisa said. “Trust me, you don’t want to be trying to find the washroom in the dark when you gotta go. This here is prime real estate.”

I hadn’t camped such a long time. Lisa had lent me nearly everything. I had a tent that would old three people, a lantern to keep the tent lit and to help me find my way to the washroom and an extra flashlight. I had brought my book, a journal and a few pens and my roll of foam. It had provided me comfort for so long and it was nice to have a touchstone, something that had provided me comfort for so long.

I didn’t do well with fear and I was terrified. I didn’t know what was involved in a spiritual reset, but I knew that it was going to happen here, I just didn’t know what it would involve. Even though I was afraid, I had to try and see this through.

After setting up my tent and laying out my foam and sleeping bag, I changed out of my jeans and into a sarong, a flowing piece of fabric that I wrapped around myself like a towel. Sophie had said that Pagan people could be a little bit freer on the island. I figured I was willing to ty anything once. I came out of my tent, my sarong fluttering in the breeze and my purse comfortable. It carried my wallet. Lisa said she saved all year for Kaleidoscope. “There are vendors all over the place, Jamieson. There are the mead people who make and sell their own mead. They’re always popular, but there are all sorts of craftspeople. Some of them make charms, cloaks and wands, jewelry and headpieces. There are all kinds of different foods on offer, too. Think of it like an open-air market. I found the most amazing oracle deck here once. Have you ever used Medicine Cards? I got my deck here two years ago with the bear claw pendant I wear.” I had seen the pendant shaped like a bear paw that hung next to her pentagram. “They sell all kinds of things here. You never know what you’ll find.”

I was hoping to find myself. I had lost or given away pieces of who I was. If I stood still long enough in the sunshine, the light would find its way through the cracks of me. If I looked down at my body, I could see the fissures and fault lines shining gold.

We walked along the main road of the campsite that threaded its way through the entire place. The vendors were set up there underneath the trees so that they were in the shade. Lisa introduced me to all kinds of people that I had never met before and even a few people that I had met but didn’t know too well. It was overwhelming to meet so may people and try to remember so many names, but I knew that I would remember most of them eventually.

Like the land, the people here would become familiar after a time. I just wondered when that would be. I tried to let the wall that I carried around with myself down a little. I had visions of having no wall at the end of the week. I didn’t know if that would happen, but I could dream. Even though the wall hurt me to carry, I had to keep a piece of it. I could never give all of myself to anyone else. Francis had taught me that I had to keep a piece of myself hidden within the depths of who I was.

As I walked along the path where the vendors were, taking in the sights of what was on offer, talking to the other people I met, I imagined that I was leaving a trail of blood behind me, the drops looking like rubies in the sunlight.

Chapter Fifty-Five – 7 of Swords

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

I was getting itchy.

It had been two years. I had ended up on the streets at seventeen and I was nineteen now. In two years, it felt like I had lived a lifetime. I thought of where I was now, and I knew that it was but a facet of my life. Depending on the way I turned the dice, another piece of my path would show itself and I would find myself faced with another choice.

Two years, filled with so many different things. In that time, I had experienced true friendship and had met people that filled me with joy. I found hope, started to believe in the power of dreams. I had found the small joys, like beautiful music heard through a window and the joy of food shared amongst people you loved.

I had also experienced two years of a wonderous fear of never knowing where you are going to sleep, find food for yourself, let alone people that you could trust. At times, all I kept close to me where my alarm clock and my Tarot deck. The Ancient Egyptian Tarot was the only link I had with my brother, and I’d like to think that in some way, he was keeping me safe.

I was fucking tired. I was tired of not having my own home, somewhere that I could close a door, where I owned everything within four walls. I wanted a couch and a television. I wanted to know that I could lock the door and that had my own room to sleep in. I wanted a bed. I didn’t want to sleep on a piece of foam on the floor.

I’m not sure why this clicked with me suddenly, but I woke up a little. I wanted more. I was so tired, and I wanted a home. I looked at the state of Lisa’s apartment, the dishes half-filled with old water. I wanted to consist of more than a diet of white bread and peanut butter, cigarettes and pot. I was so fucking tired.

I wanted more.

Without Lisa knowing, I started looking for another place to live. I knew that I wanted four walls around me, some kind of privacy and a different live than this one. I wanted a key ring, an address that people could send mail to. I wanted a bed. I didn’t want to be a nomad anymore.

I also knew that I would have to do this without Lisa. She didn’t want to get off welfare, and she had been on it for much longer than I had. Part of me felt like a thief as I started to inquire about good places to go and find a job. I felt like I was betraying her in some way. That by wanted to step away from this life, for wanting more, she would see it as a betrayal.

We were sitting out front having a cigarette and there was a cup of coffee in front of each of us. I tried to find calm in the sounds of the world waking up around me. I felt like I was telling my mother that I wanted to move out on my own and I knew that this was a big thing for me. I heard a bird call and it seemed like it was urging me on. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking joy from the sun that warmed my skin.

“I’m pregnant.” Lisa said.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. The sun was hitting her face, and she was squinting into it. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She took a long puff on her cigarette. When she was letting the smoke out, she looked down at the cigarette in her hand. “Huh. I’ll probably have to change to from regular smokes to DuMaurier lights, so the babies okay.”

The words that I wanted to say died on my tongue. There was no way I could step away from her now. I thought of the fact that she had given me space in her home, her food. Lisa had offered me safety. I had to make sure that she was okay. I reflected on the stated of her apartment and thought that it was no place for a baby to grow up in.

“I need your help with this. I want you to be my birth coach.”

I let out a puff of smoke. I watched the cloud of air float away full of words that I hadn’t said. I could see the odd word held safely within the smoke. “Me? Why me?”

“You’re my best friend, Jamieson. I don’t trust many people, but I would trust you with my life. I want my child to have the same guidance that you give me.”

“What kind of guidance can I give a child?” I asked her. “I don’t provide you with guidance, not really.”

“Jamieson, you’re tough. You’ve survived so much, you’ve seen and experienced horrors, but somehow despite it all, you’re positive. Your outlook on life astonishes me.” Taking another puff off of her smoke, she pointed it at me like a wand. “I don’t know how you can be happy having to live with everything you have to carry inside you. I don’t know how you’d do it. I’d be fucking miserable. I want my child to have that kind of mentality and that kind of light.” Smoke left her mouth, and I watched as it joined the cloud of smoke that held my words. As the tongues of smoke mingled, my words could be seen more clearly and I could see the word hope contained in the smoke before it, too, disappeared.

“I’d love to be your birth coach, I’m honoured.” I told her, meaning every word.

I wondered at the life I had been about to make for myself and now I knew that it would come, that I was ready, but it would not be now. I didn’t want to slither off into the night like some kind of thief either. Now that I had made the decision to move on, I knew that it would become possible.

That was enough for now.

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-Three – 5 of Swords

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

I was so angry.

I was also surprised at the thoughts that were going through my head. Every memory of Francis was now tainted and dulled in my head because of what he had done. The fact that he had talked to everyone but me saddened me; the fact that he wouldn’t let me talk to him at all, that he wouldn’t talk to me at all, infuriated me.

I had been sad for days, but gradually, the sadness passed into anger. The water that had surrounded me slowly evaporated as the anger took over. There was a storm in my mind filled with hot shadows made from my fears come to life. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Francis and his form wavered as if I were seeing him through the film of heat from a fire.

As much as I loved him, I was so angry. I couldn’t bring myself to hate him, for who could hate their first true love? Lisa had told me it was okay to hate someone, but I took offense to that. My love for Francis still ran so deeply in me. I couldn’t stop the flow of my thoughts and emotions, even if there had been a dam put in place in front of the emotions. I had used my mind to place a barrier around my heart and the memories that I had of Francis. I made sure that the metal barrier in my mind was sharp and pointy so that it would hurt every time I tried to look at the time I had spent with him. It was easier for me to go keep my head up afterward and didn’t hurt so much to go on without Francis.

And yet, I would find myself taking out those memories and looking at them, even though I knew that I was hurting myself each time I plucked a memory from that metal box. I would try to look at the memories through a thin red haze. I knew that it was hurting me to keep looking in, but I wanted to see what I had done wrong. When did he stop loving me? I was so lost within myself that even though I kept going, I was stuck. I said this much to Lisa one night.

She’d brought home a rare treat. She pulled open her pack of cigarettes and presented me with a rolled joint. “You look like you really need to loosen up.”

“Why, I’m not uptight.”

“You are so fucking controlled, Jamieson. When was the last time you did something for fun? And you’ve been mired in the dark forest; I don’t mind telling you that. Francis isn’t everything, Jamieson. You need to stop beating yourself up and thinking of him that way. You’re everything.”

Lighting the joint, Lisa took a few puffs and passed it to me. I gladly took in a few puffs of smoke, hopeful that it would at least lessen the pain that I was in and soften the edges of the steel knives. I passed the joint back to her, and she took a few more puffs of her own. Soon, the joint half gone, we were both giggling like school children. My face hurt from laughing, having been kept in a frown for so long. 

The moment made me realize how long I had been hurting myself. I shook my head and looked at Lisa, her eyes large with mirth. “He really was a dickhead.” I couldn’t bring myself to call him an asshole like Lisa did on a regular basis since he had broken up with me. Dickhead was as far as I was willing to go. I still loved him. It hurt to admit this to myself, but I knew that my love for him would take a while to fade.

Letting out a laugh, Lisa said “Well, he does like dick, so it’s an appropriate nickname! I’ll call him that next time I see him.”

I didn’t think anything of it until a few days later. My pager went off, and I saw Francis’ number flash on the screen. My whole world seemed to pause and go still. I couldn’t hear the sounds of Lisa in the next room, or the sounds of traffic from the freeway near by. I stared at the number and wondered if I wanted to talk to him or hear anything that he had to say.

I was still wondering this as I walked out the door, lit a cigarette, and found myself at the payphone across the street. I put a quarter in and dialed his number and when the phone clicked and he said hello, the sound returned to the world around me. His voice could make me believe in any kind of possibility and I wondered which one I would find here.

“Hello, Francis?” I said.

“Hello,” I was surprised to hear the coldness in his voice. “Don’t you mean dickhead?” he asked. “That’s what you’ve been calling me.”

The volume of the noise around me went even louder. Francis’ words seemed too loud and his words felt like a slap. “I mean, I could have called you worse things. You’re lucky that it was just dickhead.”

“That’s what I am to you? I loved you, Jamieson. You don’t talk about people you love like that.”

“You do when they are being mean. You hurt me, Francis.” Even saying his name hurt me and I felt the pain in my chest, the swords clanking together. “I have a right to be upset after you did what you did.”

“I set you free, Jamieson.” I heard the click of a lighter and Francis took in a breath of smoke. “You should be thanking me. I’m not a dickhead.”

Louder than any other sound was the loud beating of my heart. I could hear it in my ears and the noise of it seemed to fill my mind completely. I thought of every other man I had been with, and I didn’t use my voice. My heart wanted me to know that I had one. I closed my eyes and watched as I took hold of one of the swords that surrounded my heart. In my minds eye, I held it out towards Francis.

Letting my eyes slide open, I took in my own breath of smoke. “You’re right, Francis. You’re not a dickhead. I believe that asshole fits you a lot better. You don’t get to break my heart and then tell me how I feel. This is on you.”

I hung up the phone before he could start talking again because I realized that what he said no longer mattered. I could grieve now, finally seeing Francis for what he was. It seemed that he had given me a gift in the end, the clarity that can only come from pain.

I held on to the sword like a dowsing rod and let it lead me back home.

Chapter Fifty-Two – 4 of Swords

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

I arrived back at Lisa’s with a broken heart.

Every breath I took into myself hurt and I wondered if this would be the way it was from now on. I dried the tears that had started again before I entered the house. I wanted to appear strong, but I knew that this would not last long. I’d resolved myself to the idea that tears were a sign that I was strong enough to cry. I just wished the tears would stop. I had cried all the way back to Lisa’s.

She seemed genuinely unsurprised to see me back so quickly. “Jamieson, you’re home early.”

I looked at her and saw her kind face and knew that I couldn’t keep it from her for any length of time. “Francis broke up with me.” I said, new tears sliding down my cheeks.

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

That stopped me short, and I felt like I’d been slapped. “Why are you sorry?” Her words clicked into my head. “What do you mean, you know? What are you talking about?”

She patted the chair beside her and passed her pack of cigarettes towards me. I reached for the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out for myself. Getting up quickly, Lisa put the kettle on to boil. She was drinking coffee, but she drank it at all times of the day. She knew I liked a cup of herbal tea in the evenings. If she was brewing me tea, I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to hear what she was going to say.

She waited until the kettle was boiled and she poured the water into the mug. I could smell peppermint across the kitchen. Bringing the tea back to the table, she put the cup beside me and took my free hand in hers. “I know because we talked about it.”

“It meaning us? Like, Francis and myself?”

“Yeah, he’s been talking to everyone about his feelings for months now.”

“Months?” I felt the ground move beneath me. Looking down, I wasn’t surprised to see that the earth had opened up around me. If I looked too deeply into the earth, I could see the air moving within it and feel the wind on my skin. “What did you talk about?” I could barely get the words out. It felt like I was having to pull each word from my lips, the air to create them gone for now.

“Well, how young you were, of course. How he loved you but realized that he didn’t love you in the way you needed to be loved. There were so many years between you.”

“That didn’t matter to me!” I told her, letting out a puff of smoke. I watched it float to the ceiling to join the ether and wished that I could find a way to disappear so easily. “I knew he was having difficulty with it; he kept saying that I was only six years older than his son.”

“Then you see the problem. He already had two kids; he didn’t want a third one.”

Whatever words I was going to speak were slapped out of me. I closed my eyes and looked down at my heart which still bore the scars Francis had given me. I held my heart in my hands, and I cupped my hands around my heart to keep it safe. I would not let him hurt me. I kept my eyes closed when I spoke next. “Why didn’t he talk to me?”

“Because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He loved you in the beginning, Jamieson. But there was more than twenty years between the both of you.”

“That didn’t matter to me. I love him and never saw age when I looked at him.”

“Yeah, well he couldn’t overlook it.”

“Fine, but he should have talked to me about it. Who else did he talk to about breaking up with me?”

An uncomfortable look came over her face. “Everyone,” she said.

“Like, everyone we know? Define everyone. Like Darnelle and Sophie? Jen?”

“That’s a good start. But when I mean everyone, I mean anyone who would listen. He was so broken up about everything. It’s been going on for months.”

“But we’ve been together for months, almost a year.”

“He started talking to me about it soon after you got together. He loved you but didn’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, well, he certainly knew what to do when I was sucking his dick.” The words came out of my mouth unbidden. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She pushed my cup of tea towards me. “Francis is an asshole. He may be all flash in the pan and sparkles, but I still think that when you have a chance at love, you don’t start looking for excuses to take your heart back.”

I closed my eyes again and could see my heart. It looked whole again. There were cracks that ran along the surface, but it was still beating. I could get through this. I had to get through this. For a moment in the dark, I was beside Shades while he fucked a woman, and I opened my eyes so that I could let go of that memory. I was always giving my heart to the people who didn’t want it. Here I was having discovered what love could truly be and the magic it could create, but it had been a lie, too.

Lisa could sense where my mind was going. “He loved you, Jamieson. I’m sure of it.”

“Then why did he push me away?” I asked. Fresh tears slid down my cheeks.

“I think he was pushing himself away. Not that I’m playing devils advocate, but I can’t imagine what it was like for him to love you and fear you at the same time.”

I let out a laugh. “Why would he fear me?”

“Because you gave him the love that he’s always been wanted and that terrifies him. He doesn’t think he deserved it, so he runs away from it, hurting people in the process.”

I nodded and got up from the table. I took my tea and went out back, sitting down on the back stoop in the dark. I could see bugs surrounding the lamp by the door. I listened to the wind and the sounds of traffic and other people in the distance going about their lives, unaware that it felt like mine had ended.

In my minds eye, I saw myself holding my heart to my chest. I knew that what it needed was love and care. I couldn’t give my heart to another; I had to keep mine close and love it as much as I could. I would focus on loving myself, instead of loving others who could not love me back. I took the four shards of metal that had been left in my heart and gently pulled them free. I took the time to fashion a box around my heart that would protect it and keep my heart from harm.

I would give my heart the rest that it needed so that it would be able to heal in peace. It was the least I could do after everything that my heart had seen me through. I opened my eyes again and looked into the shadows, knowing that I had to find my peace after I had time to grieve.

I lit a cigarette and the smoke faded in the shadows much as I wished to do.