Tag: Love

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-Two – 7 of Cups

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

Francis and I were at a Pagan brunch when the first seeds of doubt began to find their way into our relationship.

Fox was sitting across from us at our table and there were plates of eggs, toast and bacon in front of us. I was telling Fox about a ceremony that Francis and I had taken part in the other night. I had stood for Air and Francis had stood for Fire as we made the four corners with a small group of other Pagans. A woman we both knew named Anna had wanted to perform a rite for herself and had asked a few of her friends to take part. It had been a wonderful experience performing magic with Francis and I was still elated by the whole experience.

“The room hummed with magic,” I told Fox. Beside me, Francis took my hand and gave it a squeeze. He had felt the magic, too and we had talked about it afterwards.

“Man, Francis. You lucked out with Jamieson, and you really robbed the cradle!” he said with a loud laugh.

Beside me, I could feel Francis freeze and then he removed his hand from mine. Beside Fox, Lisa gave him an angry frown and smacked his shoulder.

“What? What did I say?”

“You’re just fucking clueless, that’s all.” She said. Her tone was sweet, but her eyes were like steel daggers.

Francis chuckled beside me, but there was no humour in it. He waved a hand at Fox, but I saw the shape of a gesture in that wave. Francis’ middle finger was clear in the air in between all four of us before the rest of his fingers popped into view. “It’s alright,” he said. “It’s all right,” he said again. I could tell from the tone of Francis’ voice that it wasn’t alright. There was a grim set to his mouth that I hadn’t seen before. Whenever he looked at me, he was smiling.

After brunch, we took the bus back to his place. We barely spoke on the bus. Our relationship was normally full of conversation. We talked about everything, and Francis never put me down or called me stupid. We were equally fascinated with each other and the life I thought we were building together was one filled with magic, words, music and love. Francis and I were in the process of discovery, and I liked to imagine the path that we were forging together on the surface of the map within my mind. Everyone has a map like this, with roads already traveled and paths yet to be found.

On the map within me, I could see where our paths had converged, and the lines radiating from that point were brighter, drawn in shades of flamingo pink, sunset gold and the brightest cerulean blue. Looking back over the map, some of the lines that were drawn had been jagged and sharp enough to draw blood; a lot of them had. I traced the lines that blossomed like a flower ever since Francis and I had started dating and they flowed like water and air.

Which was I surprised to feel a jagged wall between Francis and myself as we rode back to his apartment. Indeed, there were no words shared. I tried to talk to him and figure out what was wrong, but he just kept shaking his head. We got off the bus and mad our way to his home in silence. No one else was home yet, so we just made our way to his room. I watched the man I love sit on his bed and crumple into himself as if the wall he had been a moment ago had just come tumbling down.

“You must think I’m an idiot, I’m sorry Jamieson. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” I asked, sitting down beside him on the bed. I was surprised that I didn’t put any walls up. I knew that we were about to have a conversation that I might not like, but I loved Francis so completely that it didn’t occur to me for even a moment to be fearful.

He took my hands in his and they were warm. When Francis raised his head and looked at me, I was surprised to find tears in his eyes. “You’re only six years older than my son.” He let out a sob and I watched a tear slide down his cheek. “I don’t know what to do. What direction do I take?” There was desperation in his voice. “I love you, I know that, and your love is a gift, such a gift and I never thought I would find love again. I thought that I was destined to be alone for the rest of my life, and then you appeared as if sent by the gods. But you’re only six years older than my son.”

I knew that Francis had two children from when he was married before he came out of the closet. I knew that they were still a small part of his life, but we had never talked about them. Our relationship was still so new, and Francis and I hadn’t been together for long, even though our love was deep. He had never brought them up before.

“Well, did you want to talk about it?” I asked. I knew he was hurting over something, and I wanted to help him heal. I loved him so completely that I thought that love could heal anything.

He kissed me softly. “No, I just don’t know what to do. I mean, I’ve gotten lots of comments from people like Fox, but I love you and that goes beyond age. I love your spirit and I’m so happy to be in your glow. I’ve just been in a funk since the brunch. Fox’s comment really got to me.”

“What can I do?” I asked softly. I knew that he was still upset, that Fox’s comment had unlocked something within him. Maybe it had already been unlocked if he had been getting comments from other people about our age difference. I saw nothing wrong with being nineteen and Francis being forty-one. “Tell me what I can do and what you need from me.” I wanted him to know that we could get through this together. When Francis looked at me, I watched him search my face and knew that he was wishing I was a few years older. It had been the first time he had looked at me like that. He had always looked at me and accepted me just as I was and I didn’t see that within his eyes. It was there for a moment and gone in the next.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You must think I’m an idiot, I’m just being an idiot.”

When he kissed me, there was no hesitancy and no wall between our lips, so I gave into the kiss and let the sound of worry and anguish in his voice fade from my mind, sure that our love wouldn’t falter and that our map would be filled with so many lines, it would look like a spider’s web.

I hoped for this as much as I willed myself to forget.

Chapter Forty – 5 of Cups

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

I was smiling when the bus drew up to the stop.

Francis was there waiting for me. He saw me in through the window of the bus and he came towards me, each step making the light in his face shine brighter. I wondered if I was as bright as him. I looked down at my skin and wondered if my light would shine through. I could feel the brightness increase the closer to Francis that I got. I wondered if it was possible that I was made of stars. I could see pinpricks of light in the pores of my skin.

The bus stopped and the door opened, and he was there in front of me. I had been dreaming and thinking about him all night and I was thrilled to realize that he wasn’t a dream and that the attraction to him was still palpable and real.  I could feel it growing within me with each step that I took toward him and wondered if the stars would be able to find the way out of my skin.

I had to be dreaming. I couldn’t be walking towards a beautiful man who was attracted to me, but then he was there, and his arms wrapped around me, and his kiss was jus as it was the night before, heady and full of want. I kissed him back and trying to convey joy and amazement. It felt like I was flying even though I knew that my feet were planted firmly on the ground. It was everything I thought falling in love should be.

He broke the kiss and looked me, light dancing in his eyes. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi yourself,” I told him. I kissed him again and then he took my hand, and we made our way to his apartment building. It felt natural holding his hand, like it belonged there. He took his hand back briefly to light two cigarettes and passed one to me.

I walked beside him, relishing the feeling of his hand clasping mine. I could feel an electric current passing between us and I began to wonder if the light would float out of us. I imagined a cloud of dust filled with diamonds in our wake. I felt so unlike myself, not in a bad way. I knew that we had only just met, but Francis could see all of me. He saw the pain that I carried with me, recognized it within himself, and still wanted me.

I knew that there were a few things we would have to discover about each other, but I also knew that I already loved him without a shadow of a doubt and that frightened me. I had dreamed of finding a man who would love me without question, but I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of fear. Despite that, I knew that I was heading towards something, and I was glad that we were going to be doing it together.

We walked into his apartment and Stacey was there, along with another young woman. “Good to see you again, Jamieson!” She said with a wide smile. She turned and gave Francis a wide wink. “This is my daughter, Shawna.”

Shawna came forward and gave me a quick hug. She was my age and had dark auburn hair and a kind face. “Hello! I’ve heard a lot about you. I hope all of it’s true.” I blushed, but not as deeply as Francis did. “I’m glad to see that someone has been able to pull Francis out of his shell.”

“We call him the turtle,” Stacey said. “Occasionally, he will peek out and engage with life, but it’s not too often.”

“What are you talking about?” Francis said, putting his hands on his hips. “I engage with life more than you two!” He wagged his finger at them both. “Come on, Jamieson. I’ll take you to my room.”

He showed me to his room and it was like a world colour had bloomed around me. I stepped into a room that had been decked out with all the colours of the rainbow. The walls had been draped with pictures of friends and family amidst scarves in every shade draped from the curtains, a bedspread that was dark brown and gold, and more fabric than I had ever seen before in my life. There were plastic boxes filled with pins and needles for sewing, trim and fringe for edging, pearls and other beads tucked beside a wingback chair covered in blue velvet fabric. In one corner was a mannequin dummy draped with the beginnings of an outfit. He had a small television in the corner. There were shelves that ran nearer to the ceiling that held books and crystals. I could see a mortar and pestle and a wreath with a pentagram at its centre.

“Don’t mind those two,” he said and closed the door. “They like to tease me a lot. They call me the hermit or the turtle. I just like my own company.”

“You have to be the hermit in order to shine your light.” I said.

“You’re adorable,” he said softly. He kissed me softly and I felt the need in that kiss.

We stood there looking at each other and then he sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. “I just want to clear things up a bit before we continue.”

“Okay,” I knew what he wanted to talk about before he opened his mouth. There was a weight in the air and I could feel it thickening as he gathered up the strength that he needed to speak them.

“You know what I want to talk to you about. You know that someone hurt me, too. But you should know that I haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“How long ago was that?” I asked him. I spoke the words softly, afraid to disturb the cloud that filled the room around us. I could sense that this was the weight that Francis carried with him. As he spoke, I watched as the cloud grew.

“It’s been fifteen years.” There was a loud silence after those words. “You must think I’m some kind of coward.”

“I would never think that of you.” I told him.

“I’ve been too afraid to.” He took another deep breath as if preparing himself for what could only be the worst. I watched as the cloud began to grow even darker, filled with words left unsaid, emotions kept to himself. I carried my own cloud, so I recognized it right away. “Every time that someone shows any kind of interest, I’d run away from them. I was too afraid to let anyone else get that close to me again.” He took a breath and when he let it out, I could feel a breeze kiss my cheeks and watched as it danced with the curtains, sending the gold lame and leopard printed fabric flutter in the wind.

“I was too afraid, until you.”

With those last two words, the weight of the cloud disappeared as if the sun itself had dried up all the unshed and excess rain. He was looking at me with hope it his eyes and at that moment, I would see right into his spirit, his dark eyes filled with need, want and hope “If you’ll have me, Jamieson, I’m yours.”

I kissed him and nodded. There was no question in my mind. My heart already knew the answer and I thought that he could feel the words  

Leaning forward, I kissed him gently on the lips. “Of course I’ll have you, but only if you’ll have me.”

He pulled me into a hug and kissed me. I could feel the hope in that kiss because I felt the same. I wanted to let go of the pain that I had carried onto for so long. I tried to communicate all of this in my kiss so that he would know that I understood him. When he gently broke the kiss, he looked at me and said “So, if we’re going to be together, what do I call you?”

Words ran through my mind like heart, magic, wish and love but I just told him: “How about boyfriends? That gives us a start and we can grow something together.”

There was a soft knock at Francis’ bedroom door. Stacey opened the door. She held up a plate of cookies. “Hello you two, I thought you two could come up for air and that you might need some nourishment.” She gave me a wide wink and I felt my cheeks blush.

“We’ve decided to call ourselves boyfriends.” Francis said with a wide smile.

“Boyfriends, huh?” Stacey gave us a huge grin. “That’s fantastic news!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Francis said.

I nodded and took a cookie from the plate. I thought I had never tasted anything so wonderful in my life before.

Chapter Thirty-Seven – 2 of Cups

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

We talked well into the night.

Francis’ roommate Stacey came back and placed two purses and her beer on the bar between Francis and myself. “You lovebirds okay to watch our purses?” she said. “Lisa and I are going to dance and it looks like you two have a lot more to talk about.” She gave Francis a coy smile as she walked away and held up both thumbs.

Francis flushed and smiled at her. “Go on and dance,”

I shook my head a little. “What was the thumbs up about?”

The blush on Francis’ cheeks deepened and he held up his beer to clink his bottle against mine. “Thank you for this,” he said.

“For what?” I asked him. I found it odd that he would want to thank me for anything.

“I don’t have to speak about it with you,” he said. “You have no idea how annoying it is to have introduce themselves and then ask if any of the rumours are true. I didn’t have to explain myself to you, you have already experienced the same trauma.”

I shook my head again. “Lisa said that your assault was worse than mine,” I told him.

“Don’t you see? It’s not about whose experience was worse than who’s. The fact is that you already understand the pain.” He waved his hand at the people in the bar, the smoke from his cigarette like a lasso looping them all together. “The rest of them want to imagine how bad it was so that they can quantify it, make it into something they can understand.” He said. “I don’t have to do that with you, Jamieson. You’ve already felt the kind of pain that I’ve experienced. You don’t know what kind of a relief that is.”

I looked into is eyes so that he would understand me. “I’ve only told Lisa,” I said in a shameful whisper. “She’s the only one that knows.”

“So? At least you’ve told someone. And now, both Lisa and I know, the three of us. There is magic in the number three. To me, they are like joy and from that joy is the seed to start again.”

I don’t know why the prospect of others knowing my shame and not being judged for it or being seen as weak brought me joy, but it did. The fact that Lisa and now Francis knew what had happened to me and didn’t see me as someone to be pitied brought me out of my shame a bit. In that moment, I realized that it had not been something I had asked for. It had been something that had been done to me. Something had been taken, I had not given it. I stood there looking at Francis and wondered why the world seemed so much clearer when I was by his side.

I was still frantic from my win and the energy between Francis and I felt like it was electric, as if there were strings of lightning between us that I could not see but could certainly feel. I felt things within me that I had assumed would be gone forever. Every time he touched my hand or brushed a finger along my palm, I could feel the heat begging for release of some kind. The connection between us was strong. I did wonder briefly about a connection made because of pain. In that moment, I wondered if the connection was so strong because we both wanted to find joy, so we found it in each other.

The music switched from a song with flutes and started playing a remix of Fuck You Like An Animal by Nine Inch Nails started playing. It was one of my favourite songs and I could feel the beat running through me. I wanted to lose myself in the music. Up until recently, the worlds that I found in books and the lyrics in songs and music hadn’t ever judged me. They gave me a place where I belonged.

I went out on to that dance floor and I knew that I didn’t look like anyone else. I was wearing a loud purple tshirt with a green sweater vest, white jeans and scuffed Doc Martin’s. I was the epitome of nervousness and uncertainty and as I walked toward the dance floor, I could feel Francis’ eyes on me. The intensity of his stare made me lose myself in the music even more and I let the beats of the song pull me away from myself. I lost myself in the moment and didn’t think about how I looked, what Francis thought and tried to ignore the fact that he was still watching. I didn’t care whether I was elegant or refined in my movements, I just let the music dictate how I had to dance.

I kept moving until the song came to an ending and opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was Francis and it was to him that I walked towards, even feeling like I was being pulled to him. There was no way to stop, I wouldn’t have if I could have tried. I got to him and he put his arms around me. “That was some mating dance you just did,” he said and then his lips were upon mine and the whole world stood still.

Nothing else mattered at that moment but Francis and his embrace and I happily lost and found myself as I gave in to the kiss. The air around us was silent but I could feel the beat of the music and our hearts running through me and I was alive with it. I had read and watched moments like this, but I never expected to experience one. Connections between two people like this only happened in books, movies and television and here I was having one in real life. This had to be real, I thought. This had to be real, only nothing like this ever happened to me.

When the kiss broke and the sound returned, we pulled apart and just looked into each other. All I could see were the rushing waters in his eyes and I wondered if my eyes looked full of wonder, too?

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” he said.

I had to agree. Even though we didn’t kiss again that night, it felt like a decision had been made between us. I gave him the number for my pager and felt a thrill when he placed the number in his wallet. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded, trying to swallow my heart and keep myself from giving it to him right away. I needed to keep my heart to myself tonight so that I could relive every moment. Even if nothing else ever happened between Francis and myself, I had to know that this night happened.

I had to believe that wishes did come true.