Tag: light

Chapter Thirty-Five – The King of Wands

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Finding Balance, Memoir, Personal Growth

The List Serve fundraising party was in full swing when we arrived.

I was surprised by how many people were there. Almost all of them were Pagan, too. I couldn’t help but notice how openly they wore their spiritualities. I had always been taught that my spiritual beliefs, which ran contrary to Christianity, were something to be ashamed of. I had kept my love of tarot or anything that went against the word of God a secret. It felt like hiding a large part of who I was in the shadows, yet one more thing I had to hide in order to fit in.

Here, there was no judgement. There was only a feeling of joy, clear and present. The air in the room was filled with a subtle hum and the light was bright and clear. I knew that I was entering a room where the majority of people here believed in magic, and that brought me so much comfort and joy. I felt like I was entering a part of my life that I was always going to find, even though I didn’t know I was looking for it. The joy in that moment made the walls that I always kept up around myself dissolve. I was safe here. I was nervous entering a gathering where I didn’t know who the people were, but my spirit recognized them as friends. That had never happened before.

Lisa brought me around to the people she knew and that included most of the room. I could tell that these people genuinely loved her. I was worried the first time that Lisa brought me up to someone she knew and introduced me, but by the third group of people, that nervousness was gone. I knew that it would take me some time to remember everyone’s names, but I knew that each one of them were exactly who they were. The warmth they gave me was honest and true and I knew that I had never been hugged so many times in the space of half an hour.

We headed to the bar and I got myself a beer. Lisa put her arm around my waist and pulled me over to a man that was standing at the bar talking to someone else, a woman with curly auburn hair. She was smoking a cigarette, and I remember the smoke seeming to curl around the sound of her laughter. Lisa tapped on the man’s shoulder, he turned and I felt my world stop for a moment that seemed like forever and an instant of time all at once.

He had dark brown hir that fell to his shoulders. It was spiky and curly all at once. He had blue eyes that looked like the ocean and lips that were drawn out in a smile. I felt self-conscious and wanted to be seen and hide all at the same time. I walked closer to him and the woman he had been speaking to raised her eyebrows at me as if to see what I was made of, and then she gave me a welcoming smile free of malice.

“This is my friend Francis, you know the one that I was telling you about?” Lisa said.

“This is my roommate and friend Stacey,” Francis said.

“Who is going to make herself scarce. Nice to meet you, Jamieson. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.” She hooked her arm through one of Lisa’s. “Come on, you can buy me a glass of wine.”

I watched Lisa and Stacey walk away and felt a moment of panic mixed with the heady thrill of knowing. This moment was right, I would be okay. I had to trust in spirit. I moved closer to Francis and felt warmth, smelled something soft. Francis smiled at me and I noticed one of his eyetooth was crooked.

“Lisa tells me that you’re quite the writer.”

I felt the blush of warmth inside me and hoped that it didn’t show on my cheeks. “I write a little.” I said.

“More than just a little, I’m told. She’s showed me one of your poems.”

I was aghast to have been so laid bare before this man that I hardly knew but wanted to know so much more of. I reminded myself not to lay myself completely bare in front of him, but I thought that he could see me anyways, the true me that only a few people in my life could see. Francis could see that and he was still smiling. “She shouldn’t have done that.” I said.

“Nonsense,” he said, pulling the paper from his pocket. “It told me so much about you. I’ve read it quite a few times.”

He unfolded the paper, and I could see that it had been folded and unfolded countless times. The folds were starting to wear the paper clean through. I touched my poem, marvelling at the fact that someone had actually read it that many times.

I watched as he folded the poem again and then placed it back in his pocket. I followed the motion of his arm and watched as his shoulders relaxed. Though he was dressed in dark colours, he gave off a light and a warmth that I could feel from where I stood. I just wanted to bask in that fire he gave out. His presence was beyond his body and I could feel him even though we weren’t touching.

I knew that Lisa meant for the two of to talk about being raped in our pasts, that she felt that it would offer some kind of healing. I just didn’t want to talk about any of that. I wanted to learn all I could about Francis. It seemed like he had the same idea.

“Lisa says that you were hurt, too. That you carry a lot of scars. I do, too. I’m sorry that anyone ever hurt you.” He reached out and gently took my right hand, rubbed the pad of his thumb across my knuckles. “We can talk about that later, but tonight I just want to get to know you. Would that be okay?”

I nodded and felt the warmth emanating from him increase. “That would be lovely,” I said and when the blush came, filling up my cheeks with colour, I didn’t do anything to hide my face.

Chapter Twenty-Three – 2 of Wands

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Finding Balance, Memoir

It was fair to say that Lisa captivated me.

Instead of going downtown every day, I started going to Lisa’s place. She lived in the bottom floor of a red brownstone house with two other roommates. It was a three bedroom apartment with a sprawling kitchen, living room, three bedrooms, a big backyard and it was a complete and total disaster.

The first thing I noticed when I started visiting her was that I had to clear off clothing and objects of any of the chairs if I wanted to sit down. There were ashtrays filled with cigarette butts and there were always dishes in the sink left in water, presumably to soak, for days at a time. She had a cat named Lucy and its litter inevitably stank. Having grown up in homes that required so much order and structure, the wildness of Lisa’s home made me feel like I was in some kind of forbidden forest and Lisa was the wild woman of the woods.

She always had something to say about magic and the art of creating spells of our own to take back our power. “The thing is, you have to find a god and goddess that call to you.” Lisa gave praise to The Morrígan, a goddess that symbolized prophecy, war, and death on the battlefield and Cicolluis, the Irish god of war. “It’s all about who you have in your corner, Jamieson,” she said and handed me a book of gods and goddesses to look through. “It’s about who calls to you.”

“Well, you picked two Irish gods. Are you Irish?”

“Nope, but I love Irish whiskey.” She gave me a smile which I returned. “Magic and the gods don’t care about your nationality, where you came from, your social status, how much money you make or your gender and sexuality. They are more than that, you know?”

“I don’t actually,” I said.

“It’s okay, you will.” She started pulling books out from beneath piles of closes and shelves crammed full of books, bits of food, ashtrays and crystals. “You should learn about crystals, too. They come from the earth, and they are meant to help us find our way along wherever our path has taken us.”

“Why did you choose a god and goddess of war?” I asked after looking up her deities in the book.

“I told you that I’m a warrior witch. You are too.”

I wondered what horrors she had seen and what she had lived through. I looked at the book in my lap and its large compendium of gods and goddesses and wasn’t sure where to begin. “I don’t know anything about these people.” I said, shrugging. I was a little overwhelmed. “I have no idea where to begin.”

Lisa shrugged and lit a cigarette. She handed me the lighter and I lit my own. “Well, you have to just start delving in. Don’t get overwhelmed, this is the time for discovery. What kind of mysticism are you drawn to?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “I love Egyptology. I love the magic of that world.”

“Yeah, you do read with the Ancient Egyptian Tarot, I should have thought of that. There is a whole section in that book about the gods and goddesses of Egypt. See, if you look in the index, it’s broken down by alphabet and then by place in the world.”

“Do I have to choose right away?”

“No, and you can change who you pray to, it doesn’t have to always be the same. During my early hippie phase before I chose my warrior path, there were others that I prayed to. Devotion in Paganism isn’t a set thing. It’s fluid, like we are.”

I took the book home with me that evening and flipped through it before bed. I let the pages fall through my fingers and I wondered if I could hear the whispers of the gods that were contained in the book, ready to share their wisdom and help me find the way I was supposed to go. My small room didn’t seem so small when I was reading about lands from the past, peopled with the spirits of the old.

I had no idea where I was going, but I knew that light had started to burn brighter within me. The light continued to grow the more I continued to read and I wondered what direction my path would take now.

I was ready for what would come.

Chapter Eighteen – The Moon

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Tarot

The world always looked different at night.

I was completely myself within the darkness of the streets. There was no need to hide myself because I was already hidden in the shadows. Renee was the first person to notice this. “Why do you avoid the light?”

We were walking in the square. The Ottawa Mission had a truck that would drop by the square and give out clothing, blankets and warm food like prepared soups. Renee and I walked around the square, our bags a little heavier with soups for later and new blankets. I wore a pair of socks over my hands as the cans of soup were quite hot. I had forgone the spoon for now and sipped the soup out of the can.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

She gave me a look that I could discern even in the half light. It was one of exasperation and patience. Renee did something then that I wasn’t expecting; she took my hand and wouldn’t let go when I tried to pull away. “You know exactly what I mean. Why do you hide?”

“You make it sound like I’m some kind of fucking vampire.”

“You might as well be. Anytime that someone asks you a question directly, or focuses on you, you tend to go inward. You’re fine with the people you trust, but you shrink away from the people you don’t know.”

I shrugged. “It’s a learned habit. Being noticed before tended to get me hurt. It was easier to hide.”

“Well, I don’t want you to hide.”

I thought of how comfortable I was in Sunshine’s apartment, hiding from the world. Or amongst the kids that gathered at the YSB, or the crowds that gathered for lunch and dinner at the Mission. I could disappear in those places and seek to be unseen. I said as much to Renee.

“You must be joking!” She said, her eyes sparkling with merriment. “You are the one person that everyone sees.”

I shook my head. “That’s not true.”

“Of course it is,” She let go of my hand and turned her head skyward to look at the stars.

I was drawn to look at the moon. I always marvelled at the fact that it seemed so large, but it was so far away. I never felt afraid of the dark when I could see the moon. I had always been drawn to it, but more so lately. I thought of the moon as the all-seeing eye, more so than the sun. The sun brought light into the day, but the moon helped me sit with my truths

“You carry your brother’s mystique,” Renee said. “There’s that. He left quite the impression here, but you’re doing one better. You’re making your own path.”

I looked up at the stars then and they looked like they were dancing for the crescent moon. They looked unafraid to find their way forward. “Did you know my brother?” I asked her.

She nodded. “I only knew him by reputation, but he seemed okay.”

I often felt like I was walking with his shadow beside me, and I could reach out and take his hand, letting it guide me to where I needed to go, but of course every time I went to take his hand, he wasn’t there. We had always been two halves of the same whole. I had been cast into the role of the good son and my brother had been made into the bad son. We had always been good and bad, light and dark, sun and moon. Whenever the moon was full, the shadow of my brother that walked with me seemed the clearest. I looked beside me now and saw only a thin wisp of an outline, all smoke and no shadow, but he was still there.

“You don’t have to be afraid of the light, you know? Like the moon? Look how bright it is and it’s not even a full moon! Shows us where we are right now. It’s different every night, like it gives us a chance to take in what it’s shown us?”

She said this like a question, and it got me thinking about the traits I shared with my brother. We were identical mirror image twins, but so incredibly different. My brother had been unafraid to go after what he wanted, I didn’t even know what I wanted out of life yet, but looking up at the moon, I imagined it showing me a little of the path forward.

I tried to see where my path had started, but that part of it was lost to the clouds and the movements of the stars.

Chapter Seventeen – The Star

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Tarot

We ate almost every day the Ottawa Mission.

Sunshine and I would go there to eat lunch and dinner. “The food is amazing,” he said. “It’s like its food being cooked by your mom. It’s that good. They let you leave with sandwiches and sometimes some soup. Every Wednesday, you can go and take three pieces of clothing from the warehouse in the back, and you can take as many books as you like.”

He said this with a smile because he knew that books were where I found my peace as much as tarot cards were where I found my wisdom.

I just remember the crowd of people waiting to get in the first time we went. Everyone was pleasant and even neighbourly. These were people I would have turned away from in my previous life and now I was one of them.

I looked at the cross that sat above the door of the Mission. Normally, the cross would have made me turn away. The cross was one of the symbols from my past that still didn’t sit well with me. The people that found comfort sitting under the cross didn’t make room or give tolerance to people like me. To me, the cross symbolized hatred.

However, there was no hatred here. The crowd held all kinds of people from all walks of life: teenagers like me, mothers with their children, men talking in groups and sharing a moment of laughter or one last cigarette. The crowd of people waiting was full of those who were trying to find their way back to the life that they had come from or those who had made peace with where they were.

There was no malice in the crowd though it began to grow, spilling down the stairs and along the sidewalk. No one pushed each other and there was this soft murmur of conversation that sounded like music. The door opened and as I made my way up the stairs into the main hall of the Mission, I eyed the cross above me. Part of me tried to imagine it was a pair of arms, offering a welcoming embrace. I needed to feel more comfortable in this place and my walls were coming up.

When we got into hall, the music of people’s voices rose higher so that it was steady hum. I closed my eyes and found comfort in those voices, and it was like my body was being swayed along, carried by the music. I looked behind Sunshine and myself and saw a sea of people, all filled with song. The hall was filled with round wooden tables and Sunshine and I took a seat. We were soon joined by several others and all of them were kind. They asked where Sunshine and I grew up and one man’s face opened up as if it had been lit from inside when I told him that I had been born in Ottawa.

“Me too, son. We Ottawa born and bred are few and far between. Everyone here has come from somewhere. No one was content to stay where they were and went off looking for the great wonders of the world.” He tapped his nose. “You and I know the truth. Ottawa is full of magic, so why leave?” He smiled and he looked years younger, his eyes looking like jewels among the hills and valleys of his skin.

When we got in line to get food, I told the woman I only wanted a small amount, seeing the large crowd of people behind me that had still yet to be served. The volunteer that was serving food gave me a smile as if she had known my thoughts. “Don’t you worry about anyone else at the moment. Here, I’ll give you a full plate, you need to eat.” I thanked her and tried to stop my cheeks from blushing.

The food was as good as Sunshine had promised and I was even able to go up for seconds. As we were leaving, someone offered us food to take home like sandwiches and soup; there was even someone offering essentials like deodorant and toothpaste. I felt guilty for taking these things, but Sunshine had no such qualms. He took a wrapped sandwich and cup of soup for me, so I accepted the deodorant and toothpaste. It felt like I had been offered a meal filled with hope and kindness and my whole body felt more alive than it had in a long time.

As we made our way from the Mission, I looked back at the door with the cross above it. If I squinted my eyes a little, it looked more like a star than a cross, a beacon of hope for all those that needed it, even me. I had to start believing that I was worthy of the kindness that other people showed me, even if it did make me feel uncomfortable.

I let Sunshine hook his arm in mine as we made our way back home, feeling for the first time in a long time that I was going to be okay.