Tag: life

Chapter Sixty-Four – Two of Pentacles

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

I had big dreams, but I had no idea how to go about them.

It had been so long since I held a job. The last one had been during university, and I’d held a volunteer job a couple of summers before. I knew that the easiest way out of my current situation was to find a job.

For the past couple of years, I had only been concerned with obtaining food for my stomach and a roof over my head. That had been what drove me and it had been my only concern, aside from finding my way. I was fortunate enough to have met some everyday angels along the way. Lisa was one of them. She had taken me into her home and given me houseroom. Albeit on her floor, but still, she fed me out of the food supplies that we all got at the food bank down the street from her place. Could I betray her kindness?

I was constantly going back and forth about this. Darnelle noticed on one of her visits that I wasn’t myself. She waited until Lisa had gone back inside to get a fresh pack of cigarettes and more coffee to ask me what was wrong.

“What’s bothering you, kid?” she asked

“Nothing,” I told her, wanting to keep it to myself.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Jamieson. I can see right into you, and I know there is something bothering you. My son is the same way” She handed me a cigarette. “How about a trade? I give you a cigarette and you can tell me what’s bothering you.”

“You don’t need to bribe me. You and I both know that I’ll tell you eventually.”

“Sure, but this way it’s an exchange so it’s a balance. I know what it’s like to hold on to everything and have no one to tell.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to bother you.”

She let out a laugh and lit the cigarette before passing it to me. “Tough. You have to change, Jamieson. You just can’t accept that people want to care about you so you do what they can to keep them out before something can happen.”

“Wow, that’s quite the mom talk.” I said with a laugh.

“Right? It doesn’t work on my son; I thought I’d try it on you.” Taking a sip of coffee, she pointed at me with her cigarette. “Go on, spill. I know you want to hold on, but it will feel better letting go. Go on, before she gets back.”

I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to mince words and she was right. I needed to change my habits. I had to be able to adapt to a new path if I went looking for one. I needed to start somewhere.  “I want more.” It felt like a release saying the words out loud. “I want more than this. I want my own place.” I took a drag of my cigarette to give me strength. When I blew the out the air I held, I could see the words that I was about to speak in the within the smoke. “I want more. I know that I need a job, but I have no idea about how to go about applying for one. I had planned on waiting until Lisa had her baby, but it’s becoming harder and harder to hold on to that light. Literally, as I’m sleeping on the fucking floor.”

There was a moment of silence between us, then Darnelle let out a laugh and stood to hug me tightly, careful of our cigarettes. “I am so happy. You make me so fucking happy, Jamieson. Thank the gods.”

I had expected shock but had not been prepared for the sheer joy. “You’re not upset?”

“Jamieson, you’re so young. It pained me to see you throwing your life away like Lisa has.” She saw the look of shock on my face. “Don’t misunderstand me, I love Lisa, she’s my friend and I’ve known her for a long time, but she gave up trying a long time ago. She’s content to stay on welfare when she is perfectly capable of working. She just doesn’t want to.”

“I don’t feel young. How am I supposed to find a job that I can do? I haven’t worked since university.”

“You and I will work on this. Come to my place tomorrow and we can work on your resume. I can make anyone sound good on paper and you can sell yourself, too. You’re good at talking to people, Jamieson, even if you have difficulty letting people in. You’re a gifted writer, too. You’re wasted here.” She gave me a strong look and looking into her eyes, I wondered how her son could deny her anything.

“Won’t Lisa be upset that I’m trying to better myself?” One of her constant refrains was the grind of the people, working for the man instead of living for the sake of living.

Darnelle waved a hand. “Who the fuck cares what she thinks. This is about you. You have to choose this for you.

Looking at Dar, I knew that I would make that choice. We both heard the sound of Lisa’s voice. She came out, carrying a cup of coffee in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other with a lit cigarette in her lips

Giving me a look, Lisa said “What’s about you? Did you write another story?”

“I’m going to give Jamieson help.” Darnelle said slowly. I could tell that she was choosing her words carefully. “He needs to work on his resume, and I wanted do some spirit work with him, introduce him to the Medicine Wheel Cards.” I hoped that Lisa would focus on the Medicine Wheel Cards and that she had not heard the other words.

“Resume? For what?”

I sighted. There were two ways that I could play this. I knew that I could lie to her, but Lisa had given me room in her home and food from her cupboards. I owed her the truth. I had planned to keep it a secret but changed my mind. “For a job.” I told her. “I want to find a job.”

She looked at me with wide shocked eyes for a moment. Then she let out a loud laugh. “Good one! Who would want to hire you?” She grinned at me as if she had made a big joke, but I knew that she had spoken her truth.

I looked at her and felt the earth begin to shake and crack beneath me, throwing me off balance. Lisa didn’t see or feel anything, but Dar and I looked at each other. I knew that she could see the shift within me.

I turned to Dar. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I said with conviction.

Chapter Sixty-Two – King of Swords

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

I was once again by the fire.

This was one of the last nights at the Kaleidoscope gathering. I had attended more rituals and gotten to know so many people, more than I thought that my world could hold. As I sat there watching the fire, a thought occurred to me. I knew why I had been holding myself back. I had assumed that everyone would hate me after what had happened with Francis. He was an elder in the Ottawa Pagan community. I had thought that when he had ended things, my connection to this world would also be over.

I had felt like an imposter here, as if people were staring at me all the time. Over the week that I’d been living on this small island, I had come to realize that people weren’t staring at me, but genuinely happy to see me. I had put myself in kind of a self-exile. I had placed so much value on what Francis thought of me that I had thought that the magic would be gone when he left.

I hadn’t realized that it was just beginning.

The fire was bright as the sky began to darken. We were all around the fire, waiting for the darkness so that we could be truly free from our bodies and minds so that we could let our spirits dance freely. It was as I was looking for the stars that I saw him.

Francis had come to the circle.

I had spent almost the whole week without seeing him. The sight of him was enough to make my heart stop, but only for a moment. A million word ran through my head, speeches that I thought I would say to him if I ever saw him again, conversations that I had imagined, the words as real as if they had truly happened. Scenes that I had imagined went through my mind, bringing up all the thoughts that I had been carrying within me. I wanted to rage at him, scream at him for the weight he had left me with. I was angry with the fierceness of young love when it is still bright and true.

When a spark from the fire landed near my foot, I had an idea.

I got up from the log I was sitting on and instead of heading towards Francis so that we could have one of the conversations that I had imagined in my mind, I turned towards the fire. I had left my things safely hidden in my tent, so I didn’t have my journal with me. Instead, I turned to face the fire, and I plucked what I had wanted to say to him out of my mind, imagining the words writing themselves in a loopy cursive script:

I will always be hurt by what you have done to me.

You have shaped what I think of men.

You showed me that love hurts more than it helps.

You took everything and it still wasn’t good enough.

I will never be able to love again.

One by one, I plucked those phrases from my mind, the pieces of paper brown with age, and tossed them in the fire so that they were no longer true. With each scrap of paper I threw into the fire, I reclaimed a little more of myself each time, gathering up the light and leaving the shadow on the page. As the flames took the words, my mind became clearer as I watched each piece turn to smoke.

When I turned back, Francis was gone.

The fire was so bright when the darkness finally came that I was blinded for a moment. All I could see were shadows dancing with the flames and hear the call of the drum song. I let the music pull me forward and the fire pull me inward. I let go and danced, gave up any reason that was left in my mind and lost myself to magic.

I was free.

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.

Chapter Fifty-One – 2 of Swords

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

I was holding on to so much lately.

I wanted more. I looked around me and all I saw was Lisa’s stuff covering every surface. Nothing in here was mine except for the backpack that I carried with me It still held my tarot cards, my alarm clock that I had taken with me when I first ended up on the streets, what clothes I had, and my journals and pieces of paper covered in my writing. Although I had gathered a few more things such as necklaces and rings, Pagan books and worry stones that I carried in my pocket, I still wanted more.

I wanted more than what this life was offering me. I was struggling with this idea though. I had found myself on the streets and had built some kind of life for myself. Looking back at my past and the world I had lived in before, I couldn’t deny that it held some kind of appeal to me. I wanted something of my own. It felt like I was holding on to two halves of myself: the me from before and who I was now, and I was trying to make peace with both sides of me.

When I brought this up with Francis, he had a look of relief on his face. “I’m happy to hear you say that you want more out of life.” He pulled me into a hug and I breathed in his scent. He smelled like the woods after a rainfall, both musky and fresh. “This is amazing news.”

I shrugged and looked at his eyes. The storm was still calm within him. The seas within his eyes looked dead quiet. “It feels like I’m selling out.”

“Because you don’t want to spend the rest of your life on welfare?”

I shook my head. “Lisa says that true Pagans don’t value money. That if I remained true to my spirit, I would be content with what I have.”

Letting out a laugh, Francis pulled me closer. We lay on his bed, the television playing softly in the background. He ran his hands through my hair as he spoke and I could feel his voice reverberating through his chest. “Well, I like Lisa, but she’s full of crap. I work for a living and I pay rent. Being Pagan doesn’t mean you have to be poor and having money doesn’t mean that you have less of a connection to your spirit.” He said softly.

“It doesn’t?”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s okay to want to have a different life, Jamieson. It’s okay to want more from the life that you’re currently living and find your way as your true self.”

I shrugged again. “I don’t know who that is anymore.”

“Of course you do. You’re the person that I love. You are kind to a fault; you give before you ask for anything from anyone. You are a light in the lives of so many others. You’re a brilliant writer, an incredible lover and you don’t value yourself enough.”

“Well, that’s you. You’re my boyfriend. You have to say that.”

“No, I don’t. Frankly, hearing you want more out of your life than living on welfare brings me so much relief.” He stroked my hair again. “It means that I don’t have to worry and that you’ll be okay.”

I sat up and looked at him. “What do you mean by that?”

When he looked at me, the storm in his eyes showed a momentary surge of waves and I could hear the water crashing into the rocks. I watched as Francis controlled the waves and the water grew still again with only the rings of ripples in the water to show me that the waves had even happened at all.

“I just worry about you. Spending all your time with Lisa and her friends. There are so many people in the world that you haven’t met yet and you are just at the beginning of your journey.” He leaned forward to kiss me softly. “You just have so much to discover. Don’t sell yourself short, Jamieson. You have a gift you have to give to the world. Don’t let Lisa or anyone else in the world tell you any different.”

We lay there, the television switching to a cop drama. Francis and I watched it, but I could hear the waves splashing against the rocks again. The sound lulled me to sleep and I felt the water lapping at my feet, the wind ruffling my hair and I wondered if I had ever been so happy as I was in this moment with my past behind me and my future waiting for me to claim it.