Tag: Memoir

Chapter Thirty-Nine – 4 of Cups

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

I found it difficult to sleep that night.

The pallet of foam beneath me felt like it was a cloud it felt as if I were moving all night, trying to find my way through the caves and caverns of dreamland. I felt like there was too much light within me. I wasn’t able to close my eyes against its brilliance.

There was a riot of emotions running through me and it almost felt like too much, the pull of the water within me too strong. I wasn’t used to feeling so much about someone. Even though I physically wanted someone, my emotions had long been turned off when it came to love. I dreamed about love, about the possibility of love and I’d wanted it for so long. It was impossible to think that I loved Francis already, but I knew the possibility of love was there, if I wanted it.

I twisted and turned and eventually let myself not sleep but dream. The only problem with dreams is that they don’t always go where you want them to go. In my half-sleep state, I dreamed of every boyfriend I’d ever had. By the time I could see the sun rising through Lisa’s bedroom window, I half convinced myself that the whole thing had been some kind of practical joke that had been played on me.

I just wasn’t convinced that any man could want me that much. My mind took me in all sorts of directions from wonder (I can’t believe that this happened to me!), to fear (what if he didn’t mean anything he had said?) and disbelief (he didn’t want me and there was no real connection). I had a world of voices in my head telling me that I wasn’t good enough for Francis. It was easy to ignore what they were saying if it was just one voice, but a whole chorus of them had almost convinced me that nothing had really happened by the time I got up and went to Lisa’s kitchen to start making a pot of coffee.

As I stood there waiting for the pot to brew, I gave my head a good shake. The chorus gave a loud scream in my mind as they scattered. It would be a while until they regrouped. I grabbed myself a mug, poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table so that I could light a cigarette. The smoke helped to clear my mind, too.

I didn’t know what to do, when I was going to speak to him or what would happen. I thought of taking up my tarot deck and seeing what the cards hat to say, but for once I didn’t want to know. I really just wanted to enjoy what I had experienced last night before my mind returned to push it away again. I wanted to remember the joy of it and how for one night I had felt special.

Lisa’s roommate Frank walked into the kitchen. “I thought I smelled coffee. Thanks man,” he said. Pouring himself a cup of black coffee, he sat at the table and lit a cigarette. “I know that look.”

“What look?” I asked.

“The look of someone who has a good thing and is trying to convince himself that it’s not worth it, he’ll just get hurt.”

I sat down and took hold of my own coffee. “Is it that obvious?”

Letting out a laugh, he gave me a knowing look. “Trust me, I’ve worn that look in the mirror lots of times.” Frank looked lost and his eyes. When he looked at me again, he seemed both in the room with me and lost in memories. “Don’t do what I do. I always run and convince myself that it would turn out horribly.” He let out a snort of laughter that loosened the lost look in his eyes. “It is horrible. I’m always alone.” He puffed out a plume of smoke. “I saw that kiss, Jamieson. I wouldn’t be walking away from that.”

My pager let out a beep. Looking down at the display, I saw it was Francis’ number. I checked my pocket for a quarter, grabbed my bag and made my way to Bronson and found a payphone there. I took a deep breath and said a prayer to the gods that this call would go well and that maybe, just maybe, Francis had been thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him. I dialed his number and Francis picked up after the first ring.

“Hello!”

Even his voice over the phone made my body feel warm. “Hi!” I said. I wasn’t thinking about trying to sound cool and composed. I closed my eyes cringing in case he said there was a mistake and that there was no way he could ever be with me.

“I’ve been thinking about you non-stop. Your ears must have been on fire this morning.”

“More like my whole body,” I said without thinking.

“Mine, too.” He said. “It’s like you’ve woken me up from a long sleep. Are you doing anything right now?”

“No,” I said. “I’m not busy with anything.”

“Can you come and see me? I would offer to pick you up, but I don’t have a car.”

“It’s okay, I have bus fare.”

“Okay, take the 85.” He said. He gave me the address and I knew where it was along the bus route. “I’ll come and meet you at the bus stop and we can walk back to my place. Would that be okay? I really want to talk to you some more. It seemed like we didn’t get enough time last night.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Good, that’s good.” He sounded as nervous as I felt.

“There’s an 85 coming down the street now. I can hop on and be there in about fifteen.”

“That’s amazing. I’ll see you soon, Jamieson.”

I hung up the phone and ran across the street so that I could catch the bus. I hopped on and thought about what I would find when I got there. Would Francis capture my attention just as much as he had when we had met?

I was betting on yes. I sat there with my bag on my lap, too nervous and keyed up to read. I just sat waiting for my stop, wondering what awaited me on this path that I had chosen not to turn away from.

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 Thirty-Two – The Prince of Wands

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

Lisa thought the perfect time for me to meet Francis would be at the next Pagan get together.

“It’s like a dance party talent show,” she told me with a twinkle in her eyes. “I told Francis all about you and now you two can meet and heal your wounds a little.”

“I don’t see why all of this is necessary,” I told her.

“Because you’re too afraid to think of how it might help in the future. You’re so focused on the now. You’re too much in the moment.”

“That’s all I have.” I said. “Thinking that way has always done me well.”

“You need to think of the possibilities,” Lisa told me. “You can’t just stay in the now. You’re going to miss something if you do.”

She told me that I had to think of a talent. “You were in drama, right? So how about you do a monologue? That could be fun.”

In truth, I had loved dramatic arts, and I loved to write monologues. They were a solo performance or speech that was supposed to bring you into the moment and make you feel something. They were also done on their own, so it suited me fine when I was in dramatic arts in high school or theatre classes in university. I loved the singleness of them; I was able to be on stage and I didn’t need to depend on anyone else to learn their lines. Plus, the light shone on me. I could be in the spotlight if I was someone else.

“Why don’t you do a monologue about the misunderstandings that people have about being Pagan? That could be a fun angle.”

I decided to run with the idea and began writing things I’d like to say in my piece. I knew that others would be singing, telling jokes, reding a story they had written, that kind of thing. The event raised money for an online chat board. I didn’t have a computer and had not been on the internet for years, so I had never used it. However, I thought of what Lisa had said about putting myself out there and living for a bit. I thought of The Hermit card the tarot and I thought I had been charging my light for too long.

It I looked at it within me, I could see clear across the forest to the fields beyond. Every blade of grass in the garden of my mind was as clear as day. I was tired of keeping my light in the darkness and shadows because I was afraid of being seen. I had to let the light out eventually. I used to love being watched on stage, the laughter that my part would create or the fear and joy. I loved being able to create emotions in other people and I don’t know when that joy stopped for me. What Lisa was asking me to do was to step out of the shadows and to let my light shine.

I was terrified of speaking in front of other people again, of being seen, but I also wanted to be seen. I couldn’t hide forever. I tried to think of what I would say about Paganism and thought that going at it from a funny angle would be best. I loved comedy, so I would do my monologue from a place of humour. Once I had a focus, it was like the words came pouring out of me. I filled page after page with words and once that was done, I read them over and saw some things I liked and some I didn’t.

Though I had always written, I hadn’t written a play or a scene for years. I loved the shaping of the words and it was like I was trying to find my way again. I went out for a break and a cigarette and took my pages with me. Lisa was already outside and she handed me a smoke. “What do you got?”

“I think I have something.” I said.

“Do you feel like practicing?” Lisa asked me.

I read out a little bit of my piece and was surprised when Lisa laughed. I looked up at her shocked.

“Don’t look at me like a deer in the headlights. That was funny! You’ve got this, Jamieson. You have to start believing in yourself, but your young yet.” She took a drag off her cigarette. “You’ve got time. You can’t be afraid to shine, Jamieson. You have to hold your head up high and not hide yourself. You shine too brightly for that.”

I shook my head. “I don’t though.”

“Don’t what?”

“Shine.” I said. “I don’t shine.”

“You should if you let yourself.” She butted out her cigarette. “Come on, let’s hear it again. This time, don’t be so hesitant. Lean into the jokes. You’ve written something really great here. We can trim it back so that it works better.”

I thought of the opportunity to shine underneath the comfort of a light again and nodded, looking down at my words and tried to let my light shine brighter with each word I spoke. I could no longer be afraid of myself.

Chapter Twenty-Two – The Ace of Wands

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

I met Fox in the square.

He wasn’t homeless or living in a boarding house like I was. He just hung out there and we became friends of a sort. He hung out with others like Stacey and Shadow, both of them always dressed in black. Fox knew other people I knew like Sunshine, and he was different. He didn’t have to be here; he wanted to be here. It felt like he was choosing all of us as his family and we became fast friends.

After a few weeks of knowing him, Fox asked if I wanted to meet some other friends of his. “Nothing kinky, don’t worry about that. They’re just some like minded individuals that I think you’d get along with really well. If you’d like to?”

“Why would I like them?” I asked. He knew that I had an aversion to meeting other people and I knew that he would be honest with me about why he had brought them up.

“It’s your tarot cards. My friend Lisa is always going on about them and loves them too. She’s always reading, and you’ve read some of the books she has. I’d like you to meet Lisa and a few other friends. We’re all going to dinner at James Street if you want to come. My treat?”

I nodded, despite my initial fear. It was the mention of tarot cards. Anyone that was drawn to the cards couldn’t be that bad. It would be good for me to talk to other tarot readers and see what their journey with the cards had been.

As we approached the James Street Feed Co., I was nervous but excited. Fox told me all about Lisa and his other friends Sophie and Jess. Sophie was an artist and Jess was a writer. It felt too good to be true and I had no idea how Fox knew so many awesome people, but it felt like I was being invited into a community of creatives, and they were all the things I wished that I could be. I had always written but had begun to think about trying my hand at making art, too. I reminded myself not to ask too many questions; I didn’t want to be too annoying.

Entering the restaurant, Fox saw his three friends and waved. We walked over to the table and all three woman got up so that they could exchange hugs. I stiffened as Lisa wrapped her arms around me in a hug. I hugged her back, but hesitantly.

“Why, Fox! Who have you brought us this time?” Lisa asked.

“This is Jamieson.” Fox smiled at me and gave me a reassuring look. “I think you’ll like him.”

“Fox is always bringing us strays so that we can help lead them home.” Sophie said.

“Home to where?” I asked.

“To the god and goddess, of course.” Lisa said, giving me another hug. “I knew you were one of us, right when I saw you, I knew.”

“One of who?” I asked her, feeling as if I’d fallen down some sort of rabbit hole.

“That you were Pagan of course.”

It was if the word was a key and it opened something within me. Looking at Lisa, I could see fire all around her, the air above her head filling with sparks and bits of magic. For a moment, I could see her walking toward me, a metal helmet and breast plate made of the shiniest metal. She was a flame and I was the moth drawn towards her light. Lisa was lit brightly and she radiated warmth.

When I blinked my eyes, the vision was gone, but I knew that I was in the presence of someone beautiful.

We sat at the table, and they ordered appetizers. “I’m a warrior witch,” Lisa said. “You’ll find your own path; that’s what Paganism is all about. Instead of a G-O-D, there are all kinds of gods. You just need to find the ones that call to you.”

“The ones?”

“Yes, in Paganism it’s all about balance. There is male and a female, or at the very least two gods that call to you.” Sophie said. She was a little older than Lisa and when I looked at her, I saw the Hierophant, someone who was wise and full of ancient wisdom that she had collected. “Just like there are all kinds of gods, there are all kinds of magics. You just follow what you’re called to.”

“Fox tells us that you like to write.” Jess said. “That’s a kind of magic, too. I’m a writer, like you. It’s good you’ve found your magic already.”

I shook my head. “My writing isn’t magic.”

“Ha!” Jess said. “We’ll make a believer out of you yet. Do you need to yearn to write, need to write?” She gave me a knowing smile when I nodded. “Then it’s your magic. You’re lucky you’ve found it when you’re so young. It took me ages to figure out what I wanted to do.”

It felt like I had found my kindred spirits. We talked about all manner of things, how they had each found paganism and how it had brought them to a deeper sense of who they were and their place in the world. We talked a little bit about my family, but I veered the subject away from my mom and stepfather. I wasn’t ready to talk about them yet, but I did talk about the people I knew on the streets. I talked about Sunshine, Rainbow and Angel. I talked about Renee and Jesus. I told them about the YSB and the Ottawa Mission and the people I had met there. I talked to the four of them as if they were already fast friends and I knew that they were.

I thought of the door that Lisa had opened within me, and I was astounded that I felt the light within me grow a little brighter, so much so that I could even feel its warmth within me. I looked down at my hands and could have sworn that sparkles were cascading from my fingertips, and I wondered if the light showed when I spoke, whether the group of us could see the light growing within me.

Looking up at the light fixture that hung down above us, I took in all the light that surrounded us. I wonder what that light would show me and which direction I was heading in. Lisa looked at me, a deep knowing look as if she could see into my skin and observe my spirit. “I don’t know hurt you, but we can help with that.”

I shook my head, suddenly embarrassed. “No one hurt me,” I said.

“Your eyes tell me different.” She patted my hand. “It’s okay, Jamieson. It takes time to heal. You’re safe, now. You’re a warrior, don’t forget that.”

My spirit thrummed in response, and I opened myself to the music of the light. In that moment, I chose to follow that light and see where it would take me.

Chapter Nineteen – The Sun

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Tarot

I was at the Mission having lunch when I heard someone call out my brother’s name.

Turning automatically, I saw shock and knowing on the persons face. “Your him, but not him, aren’t you?”

“If you mean my brother, then yes and no.” I took in the sight of this man. He looked quite a few years older than me, mid thirties or so. His eyes were filled with curiosity and openness, which was rare. Almost all the people I had met here had storms in their eyes, having survived some kind of trauma and it left a mark on people. He had clouds in his eyes, but even from where I sat, when the clouds moved, I could see the light within him.

“I see that. You are less of a storm than he was and more of the sun.”

Beside me, Sunshine leaned forward. “My name is Sunshine, so what am I?”

The man blinked at him. “You are radiant, I think.”

“Oh, I like this guy.” Sunshine stage whispered to me.

“How long did you know my brother?”

The man shrugged. His hair was combed, and he had a bushel of a moustache and a thick grey beard. He reminded me of a librarian as he was wearing a cardigan and what looked like glasses hanging from a chain around his neck. “I knew him for some time. He was very kind to me on a few occasions and that’s not something you forget.

I thanked him and Sunshine and I finished our meal. As we were about to leave the table, the man called out to me. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, young man. You need to look for what brings you joy. There is a storm brewing in you and I would hate for it to consume you.”

I shrugged. “I do have joy.” I looked over at Sunshine.

“You need a joy all your own. You can’t always depend on others to be around to keep your light alive.” He tapped my chest gently with the first two fingers of his right hand. “You need to find that joy and carry it in here. That will see you through.”

I thanked him, resisting the urge to give him a hug. I didn’t know if it was okay to hug strangers and I did want to hug him, but I resisted. Maybe he could see me hesitating because he took me in a soft and gentle hug. I let him hug me and I hugged him back. It was the first time that an older man had hugged me, and it brought me so much comfort instead of the fear that my father brought to life. He had never hugged me like this, simply for the sake of a hug. Every time that my father had come close, it had been to hurt, not to heal.

The man smelled of spicy aftershave and tobacco and I breathed that scent in. I’m not sure how long that hug went on for, only that for that moment, all that existed was that embrace. “You are braver than you know. Remember, joy is out there if you are willing to look for it.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. I blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling.

Sunshine and I left the Mission and walked towards the YSB. I lit a cigarette, took a drag and handed it to him.

“That’s pretty amazing.”

“What is?”

“When everyday angels like that show up in your path.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom always used to tell me about ordinary people that come into our paths just for an instant. They are supposed to bring us clarity, show us the road ahead or just help us in a moment of need.”

“Do you really think that’s what that man was? Some kind of angel?”

“Don’t you?” Sunshine said.

I thought about what the man had said. I needed to find my own joy in order to keep my light alive. I thought of the storm that had raged in my brother for as long as I’ve known him. It gave him the monicker of bad son and troublemaker, but I knew that what propelled him was a need to find out where his place was in this world and not being able to find a place for himself.

I was going through the same journey now and had to let go of the fear. I needed to remind myself that I had a lot to be joyful about. I had my street family, I had Sunshine, I had friends. I may not know where I was going, but I could see the road ahead of me more than I had been able to before.

There was joy to be found in that. I pictured a candle inside my chest right next to my heart. Its wick was lit with a small flame, a pinprick of light. It was a spark that had been given life inside of me. I cupped my hands around that small flame to keep it safe. I needed to shine my own light and every light began with a spark.