Tag: life

Chapter Forty-Six – Prince of Cups

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

“My mother is into the same shit as you are,” Max said.

I let out a snort. “Well, it’s not shit,” I said. “Magic isn’t shit, it’s the people that use it that take it to a darker place that are shit.”

She shrugged and shook her head when I offered her a cigarette. “Whatever. I mean, she was kind of into it before, but now it’s more so what with Francis and her being roommates for so long. Francis is the kind of guy that fills the world with wonder, everyone is drawn to him. I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

I was surprised to find myself blushing. “Is it that obvious?”

“Hey, I’m happy if you’re happy. Just be careful.”

I felt a moment of panic and I wasn’t sure why. “What do you mean? You don’t think that Francis is a bad person, do you?” I wondered if my gut had led me off course, but I knew Francis with my whole heart and spirit.

“No, no. He’s never been mean. But have you looked at him?”

“Of course I have, he’s beautiful.” I said.

She gave me a goofy grin and nudged my shoulder with her own. “I know that, but when you look into him, what do you see?”

I thought of every time that I looked into Francis’ eyes and the sea that always drew me in. I thought of the water every time I thought of Francis because of the endless sea that swirled within him. Depending on how many emotions he was holding onto, sometimes I swore that I could see fish swimming within the deep waters.. I told this to Max. “I just see the sea.” I said.

She nodded. “Everyone is so taken by it. I was, too. I still am a little but keep myself to myself for the most part.” She shook her head. “He’s never hurt me, not like that. But he’s just so sad.” Max looked like she was going to cry. I too her hand to give her some kind of comfort.

“Just be careful, okay? We got along like a house on fire at first, and he’s been like a dad to me for so long. But there’s just too much there. Too much,” she scrunched up her face, trying to think of the words she wanted to say. “Like, just think of taking a tsunami, the biggest and most epic one you’ve ever seen, and shove it all into one person. That’s like Francis. He holds too much. Haven’t you seen his moods?”

I nodded. I knew that Francis could get withdrawn and lost within himself, especially if he was sewing or creating something. Even after months with him, I knew little about him. I knew nothing about what it was like for him growing up, what it had been like for him growing up. He always wanted to focus on the now and the future, the one that we were making with each other. “I always want to talk about where I’ve come from so that I can appreciate where I am going.” I told her.

“Exactly. Francis never wants to talk about what came before. I mean, since he left his wife years ago, he’s only ever had one boyfriend. He’s been alone for years before he met you. That’s a lot of emotion to handle for someone Francis’ age, let alone you.”

“I love him even with the age difference.”

“I know you do. I just want you to be careful. You see no boundaries and no worries and I’m pretty sure that is sometimes all that Francis sees.” She took my hands in hers. “I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

She reached into my pack and took two cigarettes and handed one to me. “Just don’t tell my mom I’m smoking,” she said.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Chapter Forty-Five – 10 of Cups

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

I was taking off makeup when Francis came home.

Francis had invited me to stay at his place rather than at Lisa’s and I had been there for a few days. I felt like I was in a dream of some kind. Part of me was terrified and excited all at once. Francis said that I should feel safe and have my own space. He offered me his and I didn’t have anything to say at the moment because I couldn’t find the words.

I knew the gift he was giving me. He was like me in that his space was his sanctuary. It was his retreat away from the world that had harmed him. I knew how he felt. I would keep everyone away from me, but I love them too much. I wanted to be known but to somehow be invisible. Francis understood this kind of balancing act. Wanting someone who saw you for exactly who you were but being afraid that you would finally show them everything and then they would run.

By letting me stay in his room, Francis was letting me see him, every crevice of who he was. He had been a nomad like me, gathering their belongings into whatever they could and setting up shop in the next place that would have them. Looking around the room, at the array of shawls, dresses and fabrics, the books and journals filled with notes, magazines and bottles of nail polish; it was like living inside this glorious room of wonders that held all manner of magicks. I knew that by letting me stay there, he was letting me know he really was and the fact that he trusted me at that level was the greatest gift.

He would be away for a couple of days and had asked if I wanted to stay with Stacey and her daughter Max. His room would be free, and he told me that I could get a break from Lisa that way, too. “I mean, I love her and everything, but she lives like a pig.”

I kissed him and said “Yes, and yes.”

“Yes, to staying here?”

“Yes, to that and yes, I agree with you about Lisa. But you’re speaking with someone who sleeps on a roll of foam and she’s given me a place to sleep, so I can’t judge.”

I thought staying with Stacey and Max would be somewhat stilted and awkward, but they were both wonderful, welcoming and funny and both of them had Francis stories. Stacey said she had worked with him for a very long time. “He’s made me swear not to tell you the really naughty things that he’s done, but I told him that I’ll keep it PG.” She gave me a very saucy smile. “But I promise not to tell if you won’t tell if I do.”

“Yeah, except your definition of scandalous and my definition differ greatly.” Max said. “Trust me, what those two consider off the charts isn’t even a top ten hit.”

I liked Max. She had the most direct way of talking to a person that I really appreciated. She almost had no filter, but she was very diplomatic in her scorn. She was a few years younger than me, but we were fast friends. She had a wicked sense of humour that would light up the room or make a person the butt of a joke and I always wanted to be around her joy.

I felt like I belonged and that Stacey and Max were just part of my chosen family. Stacey even had her boyfriend over at one point and we were like some kind of family unit, and I took a moment to take it all in. It was a lovely family dynamic, and their presence helped me when I was missing Francis. I missed him with all the emotions of a young heart, which is to say that I missed Francis with everything that flowed within me. I sat, read, wrote, talked with Stacey and Max and I missed Francis. I had never let myself care that much about another man. I had always held myself closed in some way; there was always some part of me that they never knew because it was just safer. If they never knew all of me, it would be easy to walk away.

I had finally been able to be open, seen and loved by Francis and his own chosen family. It was a wonderful feeling and helped to ease my heart a little. The emotions were still there, but I could see past them. I still needed to distract myself from missing him.

I had put on make up that morning, one eye done in orange eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara and the other eye done in purple. I had wanted to be ultra fabulous for when Francis returned home, but as the day wore on, it looked like he would be arriving late. I had decided to take off my eye make up and just be myself as that’s who Franic fell in love with. I was in the bathroom when there was a knock at the door. “Yes?” I had just taken off most of the orange eye but still had some clean up to do and the purple one.

The door opened and there was Francis. He came into the bathroom and kissed me, even with the orange make up marking my face like a tiger’s stripes. “You’re home!” I said and kissed him back.

“We knew that he was on the way home, but he wanted it to be a surprise.” Max said from the bathroom doorway.

At that moment, kissing Francis and being kissed by him, my world was complete, and I finally felt at peace within myself. I was full of joy and wondered what I had done to become so lucky. I was seen and loved for who I was, and I was surrounded by people that loved me for me, not because of any obligation. At that moment, I knew that I had finally found my place in the world. I finally felt at home.

Chapter Forty-Four – 9 of Cups

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

I looked around myself a lot.

I was always trying to find my place in the world. I finally felt like I had a family of a sort made up of both people I knew from the streets and the Pagan community. My life had gone from having no one to being abundant with people I considered family of the heart.

I was so used to hiding who I was. However,  since I had ended up on the streets, I had met so many people that welcomed me as one of their own. I still found it odd to realize that I knew so many people that wanted to know me. I carried a lot of self-hatred, both from my childhood and there was a small part of me that wondered who would want me?

It turned out that a lot of people did. Sophie had weekly dinners for a bunch of her Pagan friends. We would bring ourselves and meet at her house in Lebreton Flats. It would be a gathering of like minds and kindred spirits. The people gathered in Sophie’s living room changed every once in a while, depending on who was dating who, or who was visiting from out of town. but the core group of us stayed the same. There was Sophie and her boyfriend James, Lisa, Jen. The people I knew were joined by Franny and her boyfriend Michel with Janice and Kyle to round out the group. I was a little shy around the people I didn’t know, but they soon became fast friends.

We would eat potluck style with each of us bringing something different the dinner and we would sit and play games or delve into magic by creating spells or doing rituals. It was the magic that brought us together on a deeper level as you must open yourself up wide to be ready for magic and it brings people closer together. I often wondered if the thrum of magic was something visible, the air would be filled with rainbows and shadow.

I went through a lot of different emotions when I was among these people. There was sadness if someone was going through something difficult and we had to band together to lift the other persons spirits, especially if it meant that one of our group would be leaving us. The people changed over time, but the core group of us remained the same.

I was reminded of the people that I had met on the streets and the kind of family those people had been to me. Looking around the room at these people, I could not deny that I had been lucky enough to find another kind of family and I knew how lucky I was to have these kinds of people around me.

Sitting in amongst a gathering of Druids, Wiccans, Pagans and otherwise, I thought about how my street family may have given me back my body and my Pagan family had given me back my spirit. These people hadn’t known me but had accepted me because they saw my spirit and accepted me completely. The streets may have taught me to protect myself, but this world taught me to be free. It was a juxtaposition that I was still having trouble accepting. However, whenever I felt like I had lost my place, all I had to do was come home to myself and the emotions that my body held.

The people around me were full of emotions and over time, the people that shared in food, joy, sorrow and laughter showed me that I didn’t have to be emotionally cut off. There didn’t need to keep a wall between myself and the emotions that I had been taught to bury down deep within me. I knew that if I didn’t let them out, they would rupture within me. The Pagan community were full of light. There were a few bad apples, you’ll find that in any bunch of people, but everyone was completely open with their emotions. They showed me that while I had to practice ward and sigils to keep myself safe, I was free to share my true emotions with them.

It was an odd experience. I was so closed off from people before and I was being asked to be open. My life was abundant with the people that surrounded me, and the core group of people had my back. I knew that I could be completely myself with these people and it was frightening and wonderful all at once.

I had spent my entire life so far having to keep so much of myself hidden from my parents, family and friends. I couldn’t talk about my disability, the abusive home that I had survived, my sexuality or my gender. There was much that was off limits for me to be able to form lasting relationships with other people and it was exhausting.

Looking around at the people that surrounded me, at Sophie, Lisa, Jen, James, Franny, Michel with Janice and Kyle. We were an odd sort of family, but we were a chosen family together. My life was abundant with so many emotions and that was okay. I didn’t have to hide anything anymore.

Especially from myself. I didn’t want to hold on to so many unnamed emotions. When I got back to Lisa’s that evening, I filled a cup full of water and then wrote the emotions I had been holding onto for so long. I wrote quickly listing off everything I could think of. I wrote about my anger, my self-hatred, my fear of being who I truly was and being completely myself. I filled both sided of the small piece of paper and dunked it in the water.

I watched as the water smudged the ink and softened the paper, making if soft. I swirled the paper until all of it was completely wet. I took the paper out of the water and began to shred  the paper into lots of little pieces until the cup of water looked as if it held wet snow. If I looked into the cup, I could see the letters that had been the words of my emotions, their ink fading even as I looked at them as the water continued to soak into the paper.

Standing, I walked off the back porch towards the edge of the garden. I poured the entire cup of water and paper into the dirt. I watched as the paper settled into the soil and if I tried to spell words with the letters I could see. With each word I spelled, I was making that negative emotion into something else.

I was letting go of the past and finally looking towards the future instead of merely living day by day. I wanted to dream of something more.

Looking down at the letters in the dirt in front of me, I tried to find a word so that I could divine what awaited me in the future.

Chapter Forty-Three – 8 of Cups

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

After the door had opened within Francis, I found myself looking at him more.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed him before. What I think what I was doing was looking at him to see how he reacted to me. What I saw was worrying and I had to remind myself to not put walls or barriers between us.

Before, when he first looked at me, his face had lit up like the stars. Now when he looked at me, I could see him putting his features into a face of joy. There was a moment of worry that covered his face, one of fear and I could see him as he shoved the emotions down within him to greet me with the face he thought I wanted to see.

It pained me and I wondered when he would open up to me.

I noticed that our words, which had flowed freely before, were always spoken from somewhere else, as if Francis were speaking from a place inside of himself. I knew what he was wrestling with, and I tried to get him to talk every so often. I didn’t want to push it. Francis had to be the one to speak and I remembered what happened in the past when I pushed. I usually got hurt.

He kept saying that nothing was wrong, that he was alright, that he was okay. When I asked him if we were okay and that it was okay if he wanted to talk about it, he would kiss me. I wondered if this was to shut me up or to remind himself of the spark that was between us. I began to feel that he justified our relationship during the day or tried to find peace with it. He couldn’t hide from the voices and opinions of others when the sun shone.

During the evenings together, he would sew and stitch with deft fingers. Francis could create magic in mere minutes, conjuring something with style and flair that he would don, looking instantly wonderful. He was always making something sparkly to wear. He had even offered to make me a camo beret trimmed with gold sparkles, or we would work on our nails together while the television played in the background. Often, I would write poetry in one of my journals I always carried with me. During the night, we were most ourselves with each other, free from the expectations and opinions of others. I would read him a poem I had written, or he would show me how to properly take care of my cuticles and how to make sure to get the most even coverage when painting your nails.

During the evening, with the lights down low, we could pretend everything was okay. I didn’t have the words to get him to open up and speak about the emotions that he was carrying. In hindsight, I wasn’t old enough and didn’t know enough of the world to learn the words that I had to say. Not yet. I just tried to comfort him and enjoy the hours spent together feeling whole. The shadows kept us together, the day drove us apart.

Francis couldn’t hide from the truth.

I always picked him up from work. He worked down the street from Lisa’s at a call centre with Stacey. They worked in an older house that had been converted into an office, and they sold subscriptions. Francis and Stacey were always bringing home some kind of bonus or another for how well they had done. It had gotten to the point where a lot of the people knew me and knew that I was Francis’ other half. At first, I had eyes only for Francis when I was there and watched him working, laughing with one of his customers, Francis looking at me the entire time.

As time passed between us, our paths following the flow of water,  I started to notice that he would look away from me while I waited and his coworkers would glance at me with apologetic looks.

After work, he would take my hand, and we would walk to the bus stop so that we could spend the night together. I had begun to carry the unspoken worry during the day, and it weighed on me. I would sit and read, write and worry. I would pour my worry out onto the page, filling the page with my emotions. I didn’t know why I was worried, why it hung so heavy on me, but when Francis took my hand and we headed back to his place, I was able to let all the worry go. Everything was going to be okay, night had come and the smoke from our cigarettes could mingle together as if dancing between us.

At night, I believed in the magic of possibility and the promise of love.

I wrote him poems about speaking and truth, about the words that we kept within us covered up with vines trying to break free, and he would tell me that it was beautiful, that the words just flowed across the page. When he was reading, I could see his eyes widen, but my words didn’t reach deep enough into the well of him so that he could bring up his words so that his tongue could shape them.

He would tell me that he loved me, but slowly, I could see him walking away from me and could feel him putting distance between us. Even though I kept swimming toward him, I was somehow further and further away in the sea that surrounded him.

At night, I believed in the magic of love, and I hoped that it was enough.

Chapter Forty -One – 6 of Cups

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

It was fascinating to be with someone who wanted to be with me.

That was one of the first emotions that came to mind when I thought of Francis. When we walked together, waited for the bus or we were at one of the Pagan brunches, Francis made room for me. I could see him lowering his walls just as I was lowering mine. It was never a thought that it was possible to love someone so effortlessly. I had never experienced this and it was so new to me. I felt included in his life and everyone I knew already knew Francis. It was a seamless transition from caterpillar to butterfly. The transition was not painful as I had wanted to be free of my cocoon for long.

I was still afraid, though. Francis held my heart in his hands, and it had been a long time since I had trusted another man to hold my heart carefully. I loved him despite that fear. I adored him because I was afraid. A small part of me even feared the love that Francis and I shared together because of everything that had happened in my past. I loved him with an open heart and wanted to hide and be seen by him at the same time. It was like I was walking an internal tight rope, and I had no idea where it would end.

Francis showed me that there was nothing to hide from. When I was with him, I remembered what joy was. I loved him so completely. Lisa and I would talk about it when I wasn’t with him. One night, we were getting ready for sleep. Lisa was lying on her bed smoking a cigarette and I was on my foam roll doing the same thing. From my vantage point on the ground looking up at Lisa’s ceiling, the smoke looked like clouds. I pretended we were on a raft floating along the water, letting ourselves flow towards the future.

“You don’t have to be afraid, you know.”

I perched on an elbow and looked at Lisa. “What do you mean? I’m not afraid.”

“You forget how well I know you.” She gave me a gentle smile. “You don’t have to go back there, Jamieson. I know you hold on to every slight and every slap you’ve ever received. People like you always do. I’m Warrior because I want what I wasn’t given and now I just fucking take it. You’re a Warrior because you love so much. Your heart is in everything you do and say. You walk around offering it to others every time you speak even though you’ve been hurt to the breaking point and still you offer your heart, but at the same time, you’re afraid. Francis isn’t like the other fuckers you dated. He’s not your father. He’s different, Jamieson.”

My nineteen-year-old heart swelled with hope and with love as I pictured Francis in my mind. I was standing with him and my heart swelled even more when I looked at him and took in the shape of his eyes crinkled because his lips were shaped in a smile as he looked at me. I could hear the rush of water again, the waves sending water into the boat. I looked around us and held on tighter to Francis, but I loosened my grip. I didn’t want to hurt him or hang on too tightly. I was afraid that he might turn away from me if I did that.

When I opened my eyes, Lisa had turned her head to look at me. “I keep over analysing everything,” I told her. “My heart, mind and spirit are open to him, they are giving and receiving love, but I am afraid, Lisa. What if I fuck this up?”

“The way that Francis looks at you, I’m sure that’s never going to happen.”

“But what if it does?”

“So, it does. You’ll do what you always do, pick yourself up and get on with it, but you need to move on from all the worry. Just because Francis carries a lot of pain doesn’t mean you need to. You can’t love someone with one of your feet stuck in the past, Jamieson. If you love Francis, love him without the fear.”

I thought for a moment about what Lisa had said, looking at the smoke as it swirled above my head. I blew out smoke rings, trying to see if I could join the smoke that came from the burning cigarette with the smoke that came from my mouth. I watched intently for a moment, and the smoke looked like it was in a casual dance, melding and shifting with each other, before rising out of my sight. I noticed something though. When the smoke rings I sent up to the sky joined with the smoke from my cigarette, they each grew stronger, even if only for a moment. The smoke grew thicker and when they separated, they each took a bit from each other before moving onward.

I knew that Lisa was right. I had been afraid for so much of my life before now that fear had become the only thing I knew completely. I carried my fear and the pain that had caused it, and they were my constant companions. No matter where I roamed over the waters, fear had become my anchor, my pain an oar. I knew that I was letting my fear hold me back. I could love someone completely but still be afraid that they would cause me more pain. I didn’t want to find my direction in life because of the pain it had caused me.

“How do I let go of all of that?” I said this more to the smoke than Lisa. I felt the smoke would have a kinder response than she would. The smoke would probably say something mysterious and alluring. Lisa would deliver her advice in her typical bluntness. She was wise, but she did not mince words.

“By choosing to,” Lisa said. “You’re the one that controls your destiny, Jamieson. Where do you want to go? You need to pick your direction and head that way. Sometimes you have to let go of things when you choose a different direction.”

“What if it hurts?”

She let out a snort and a puff of smoke at the same time that made Lisa look like she was some of dragon. “Of course it’s going to hurt, Jamieson. That’s the point of growth. If our journey had no fucking pain, it would not be worth it. You’ve had more than your share of pain. It’s time to let some of it go.”

I closed my eyes and Francis was beside me again. The waters around us calmed and the boat that we rode in stopped rocking back and forth. I reached out to put my arm around him and pulled him close. I felt Francis put his arm around me and I looked forward to see where the waters would take us. I let out a puff of smoke and the water rippled, reflecting the sun as it shone down at us.

I opened my eyes and tried to let a bit of the pain go. It wasn’t much, but it was a start and that had to count for something.