Tag: Movement

Chapter Sixty-Eight – Six of Pentacles

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

“I can’t believe you’re having me wear this to a bar.” I told Rhonda.

She stopped and looked back at me. I felt odd but oddly free wearing the black skirt and sparkly top. It was a beautiful skirt. It hugged my legs and went from my knees to my waist. There were buttons that ran the whole length of it and they were covered in velvet. I had never work anything so fancy in such a long time. The green crop top left my belly uncovered, but the sparkles made up for that. Rhonda had given me a pair of fishnets that had been the wrong size and I put everything together with my black Doc Martins that I had gotten at Rock Junction. The whole outfit really worked, and I was surprised how comfortable I felt.

“It’s what’s going to get you in without paying a cover. It’s fetish night at Frankies on Frank. If you go in with a fetish, you don’t pay a cover.”

“What’s my fetish?”

“Jamieson, cross dressing is a fetish, but it’s also very now. You look good, not every man can pull it off, but you got hips and curves. You gotta show those off. And look at your fucking legs! Why have you kept those covered up? You’re gorgeous and you’re covering your whole body. You don’t need to hide yourself because others were ashamed of you. You wore a fucking sarong to Kaleidoscope, what’s the difference?”

“We were isolated there.” I told her frankly. That was part of the truth. I was more vulnerable because of the shape of the skirt. There was nowhere to hide within it. It felt too open in downtown Ottawa. I was exposed here. I felt like I was in the open sea with the way that the wind brushed past me, and I could feel every perceived eye upon me. Part of me wanted to hide behind Rhonda, but there was a bigger part of me that was excited. I was thrilled at being brave enough or foolish enough to doing this. I loved the brashness of it and how alive I felt. My whole body felt at home within these clothes, and I was terrified and thrilled at the same time. I didn’t know what to do.

Rhonda could sense my discomfort. Putting a hand on my arm, she gave me a stern look and a grin. “You’ve got this, honey. Besides, going in with a fetish saves you five bucks and that can be used for a beer.”

I let out a laugh. “Well, then what’s your fetish?”

She made a motion with her right hand to encompass all of her form. “Honey, I am the fetish. This is my home. I’m among my kind here. Every Thursday night is fetish night. I am seen here and you will be, too.”

We approached Frankies and I was surprised to see that it was an old three-story house that had been made into a bar. “Bottom level is the dance floor; middle floor is the bar where everyone cruises for what they need and the third floor is where the strippers are, there’s always a cover for that floor, too. The place you want to be is the attic. That’s where we’re going tonight.”

I could hear music coming from inside the place and my spirit wanted to lose itself to the rhythm. The thought of a bar frightened me though, despite the call of the music. Gay bars had never been kind to me. I had learned to build walls around myself in places like this and now I was going to enter this place dressed in women’s clothes.

Stopping to look up at the house, the beat of the beat of the music pulling me closer despite my need to protect myself. Rhonda lit a smoke and took a few puffs before passing it to me. “Here, honey. It’s going to be okay. Just embrace the part of yourself that danced in front of the fire at Kaleidoscope. You’ve got the goods, now show ‘em off.” She took the smoke from me and took a few more puffs before butting it out. “Come on.”

We entered the doors and I felt the full pull of the music wrap its arms around my body. I could feel the music, and it felt like I had been immersed in water. The bar was softly lit and we were met by one of the bar tenders when we entered. “You’re not here alone tonight, Rhonda?” He was tall and thin and had brown hair that came down to his shoulders. He had deep brown eyes and stubble on his jaw. “Who’s the skirt?” He gave me what I hoped was an appreciative glance and a wink.

“This here is Jamieson. You be nice to him Jake. He’s new.”

Jake was standing by the door. I could see men and women mingling, drinks in their hands. The music that I’d heard from outside was louder in here and though it wouldn’t have the base of the dance floor, the music here moved me warmed me. The bar gave off this feeling of warmth and welcome. People were having fun here and the air of the place seemed celebratory. The sound of music and the voices of others pulled me in and I could feel myself moving away from where I was toward something I could not see.

It had been so long since I’d been to a bar and the whole thing seemed part otherworldly and part mysterious. There was an elated feel to the air that combined with the music that I could hear and the beat that I could feel in the floor from the dance floor down below.

“You here for fetish night?”

“Aren’t I always?” She gave him a wink. “That’s where the getting is good, you know that.”

She went up the stairs in front of me and I followed. I heard a whistle behind me, and I turned to see Jake giving looking at me up and down. “Nice legs,” he said.

I smiled awkwardly. Jake was cute. He had long brown hair worn in a shag cut that hung to his shoulders and he wore his green t-shit and jeans really well.  I could see the lustre and shine from his hair and his dark eyes more clearly from my higher advantage point. I felt cheeky and gave him a wink and made sure to add an extra wiggle in my butt as I was going up the stairs.

The wooden steps creaked as I made my way up the stairs behind Rhonda, the banister smooth underneath my touch from the thousands of others before me that made the same climb. We arrived on the floor where the strippers danced, and the music was stronger here. The air was filled with the scent of need and desire. A kind of musk filled the air. I had a fleeting sight of a drag queen in a red wig, a half naked man walking after her to what I presumed was the dance floor.

Rhonda noticed me looking. “They have the whole thing here. The dancers perform and if you want to, you can have a private dance in the champagne room.”

“You ever go?”

“No, I don’t like champagne,” she said giving me a wink. “The bubbles make me burp. Plus, I don’t need to pay to see a boy bump and grind. But we’re going one floor up. Mind your step, the stairs are a little slimmer here.”

She was right. I made my way carefully up the small flight of stairs and wondered what awaited me. There was less light up here and I could hear the melody of people’s voices grow louder as we made our way further upward. The stairs went around a corner only to open up into the attic. There was a bar to the left of the room and a bartender talking to one of the other patrons, but that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. In one of the corners of the room, there was a wooden cross set up like an X. There was a gentleman dressed in leather pants whose wrists and ankles were being gently placed into leather braces. The man placing him on the wooden X made sure that he was secure, kissed him and then gently began to whip him. Rather than causing the man on the X pain, the whipping seemed to be bringing him no end of joy.

I looked away wanting to give them both privacy and when I turned my head, I saw a woman with red hair who was topless. She was letting another woman gently apply clamps to her nipples and the whole act seemed to be not one of dominance, but one of love. I wasn’t used to seeing two acts that I would associate with pain, but the people that were being whipped and clamped were experiencing pain.

“There are all kind of ways to deal with pain, Jamieson. Sometimes, you need to find an outlet for it, a way to release the pain you’re carrying.”  Walking up to the bar, she motioned for two beers and handed one to me. “Maybe this will give you the release you need. Maybe it won’t, but I wanted you to see your options.”

I looked at the attic room filled with people who were unashamed of who they were and what turned them on. I didn’t know if I was ready to experience any of this, but it was comforting to know that I could be completely myself here, too, as much as I was in the Pagan community. It felt like Rhonda had shown me another side of myself, one that I had been ashamed of for so long, but she was showing me a way out of that shame.

“It’s okay to be wounded,” Rhonda said softly. “It’s how you learn. Sometimes, you have to move away from what is trying to hold you back. I’m not saying break ties but put up the boundaries you need so that you can do what you want.”

I knew that she was talking about a great many things at once, we had talked about everything after all. She knew that my finding a way forward mattered to me and she knew that not having a home of my own was a growing concern. She knew of my need to be out on my own despite the guilt I felt at wanting to leave Lisa’s place.

What she was telling me was that it was okay to move on. There would be pain, of course there would be, but I would be better for it.  “Thank you,” I told her.

“You’re welcome, now watch my beer. I’m getting some.” I watched as Rhonda sashayed up to the wooden X and allowed herself to be strapped into the leather cuffs.

Chapter Fifty-Four – 6 of Swords

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

Sophie was beginning work on a tarot deck.

She had gathered a few of her Pagan friends to be different cards. A lot of people wanted to be part of the Major Arcana cards, but I was fine with just being included in the deck. When Sophie told me that I could have my choice of the Minor Arcana, I thought about what I was trying to achieve on this new path without Francis. I had gone from being part of something to being alone and, though I recognized what he had done to protect himself, I wasn’t sure how to move forward.

“You’re such a Swords,” she said, describing the suit as if it were a personality trait. “You’re a writer and a creative like me and Swords are such a creative suit.”

I shook my head. “I just find them so violent.”

“They don’t have to be, it depends on how you look at them. You wouldn’t be the Ace of Swords, maybe the Two of Swords?”

I shook my head again. “Can’t there be another card?”

Sophie looked me up and down, wondering where to place me in her deck. After some time, she spoke. “How about the Two of Pentacles? You’re just starting on your true creative journey, so how about we give you some balance as you go forward?”

She had me dress in a white’s poets’ blouse and striped pants, as if I were some kind of circus performer. I took Sophie’s hand with my left hand, and I took hold of her boyfriend James’ with my right.  They had me get up on to a large tree branch and when I was balanced, they let go so that James could take the photo with Sophie directing him and making sure that he got the right shot. High up on the branch, I could see everything and everyone that was at the farm. Francis was the Magician card, and Lisa was the Star card. Jess was the Hermit and Fox was trying to be The Emperor, but Sophie wanted Fox to be The Hange Man, but Fox didn’t want to hang from a tree as James had suggested.

I had seen Francis walking around all morning and just as I stayed away from him, he stayed from me. I tried to keep my eyes from looking at him, but they were drawn to Francis and the surety that he conducted himself with. He walked around the grounds with such confidence that I was jealous of him. I didn’t feel nearly that comfortable with myself, especially with the storm that he had caused within me.

My eyes were drawn to Francis as Sophie and James helped me along the long tree branch. It felt like I was perched within the trees and I smelled the earth. I could also feel the wind moving around me. The day was hot and humid, and the wind was warm. I could smell honeysuckle and the ever-present smell of manure that was used as fertilizer from the farm next door. I could smell the leaves of trees and the mustiness that came from the shadows.

I turned away from Francis and the pain that he caused in me. I had tried to patch the holes that he had left in my heart, but I could hear the wind whistling through them. My heart sounded hollow, and I wanted to fill it with something else other than the withered heart that I had chosen to keep safe inside of a metal box. Looking out at the wide-open expanse of the fields in front of me, I let myself imagine the grass like a green sea that could take me somewhere else where I could let myself heal.

I looked away from Francis and what he represented and chose to turn away from him and toward what would come in the future instead. I knew that he had been my first love, but I knew that there would be others.

Sophie explained that I would have to balance on the tree branch on my own for a few minutes while James grabbed the shot from different angles and she made sure that I would be comfortable with that. The Pentacles would be added in digitally afterwards. I nodded and they both took their hands away. I followed Sophie’s instructions about how she wanted me to pose.

I let nodded again and put my arms out on either side of me to get my balance before I moved them in front of me. With my cerebral palsy, I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to stay on the tree branch, but right now, for this moment, I was holding my balance, and I didn’t feel like I was going to fall. I was surprised by how free I felt.

With my palms held open to the sun and my gaze on the sky and sea of grass, I felt like I was flying.

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.

Chapter Twenty-Nine – 8 of Wands

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

I came home to my room to find my blankets missing.

I only had two thin blankets. They were warm flannel, but they didn’t take up a lot of room in my bag. They had been spread out on my bed, and they were gone. I went to see Joey and he tried to get me to lower my voice.

“I don’t see why you’re not upset about this,” I told him. “Someone took my blankets and I haven’t let anyone in my room.”

“That’s because I took them from your room.” Joey said.

The shock left me speechless for a moment. I know that I was only silent for a second, maybe two, but it felt like a moment frozen in time. I looked at this man who I had seen with kindness, who had given me a room when I had nowhere to call my own, and I watched the light that I had hung around his head like a wreath fade, flicker and fall away. “Why would you do this?” I asked. “Those are mine.”

“I took in a new boarder today. He has nothing, less than nothing. He just got out of prison. He only has the clothing on his back and the bed to lay his head down. I figured he could use one blanket for a pillow and the other to cover himself. It’s really an act of kindness when you think about it.”

I stared at Joey and tried to find the words and I try to not let the sense of betrayal fill me with rage. “You went into my room. You unlocked my door and went into my room and you took my things.”

“For someone that has nothing!” Joey said. His voice was rising the quieter mine became. It was like a storm was building in me but in reverse. It felt like my world was imploding and the words that I wanted to scream at him were quiet and soft next to the gale that raged within me. I tried to pry the words I wanted to say out of the wind so that they could fall from my tongue rather than shoot from my mouth and hurt him.

“I don’t care if he has nothing or if he came from fucking prison.” I told Joey quietly. “Nothing gave you the right to go into my room without my permission. Nothing.”

Joey had nothing to say in response. I knew that I would not live here, that I could not live here. I would not live in a place where I did not feel safe. I lay in bed that night looking up at my ceiling. I didn’t want to fall asleep in case someone else came into the room. The fact that this room had been my place of safety had been taken from me. I knew that Joey probably didn’t mean anything by it, but I knew that this was no longer my home.

In the morning, I went to see Lisa. We had a cigarette and a coffee together and I told her all about what had happened. Whereas I had gone quiet so that I could hear the words that wanted to be said, Lisa had no such issues.

“How fucking dare he. Does he know who he’s dealing with? Obviously not or he never would have done it. You can’t live there.”

“I know I can’t, but I don’t know where else I can go. I could go and see Sunshine and see if he would take me back. I have to go look at the postings at the Youth Services Bureau and see if they have any other rooms to rent.”

“Don’t bother with that. You can come and live with me.”

I looked at her. My emotions were all over the place and I felt both warmth towards Lisa and also confusion. “You live with two other people. There isn’t enough room for me here.”

Lisa lived with her stepson and another roommate in her three-bedroom apartment. “Of course there is. And it’s my place, they just live here and pay me rent for their rooms.”

“But where will I sleep?” I asked her. “I could sleep on the couch.”

“You don’t want to sleep there. It’s all lumpy. No, you can sleep in my bedroom. It’s a huge room and there’s plenty of room for both of us.”

“I still have my roll of foam that I used to use at Sunshine’s place.”

“There, see. That’s perfect. We’ll go get your stuff later and Paul can help.”

Paul was Lisa’s stepson. “Won’t he mind?”

“He won’t mind, and he owes me a few favours. You call the welfare office and tell them that you’re moving and give them my address. It’ll be fun and we can talk about boys we like while we fall asleep.” She huffed out a puff of smoke and I wondered if the smoke carried words. I could see the elbow of an L and the curve of an O.

I was so desperate to get out of the boarding house that I agreed right away. I trusted Lisa and, even though I would be homeless once again, at least I had somewhere to lay my head that felt safe. I had no doubt that Lisa would protect me, and she already felt like home to my spirit. I thought of Anne Shirley and her friend Diana Barry from Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery. I finally understood what the word kindred meant and what it was supposed to feel like when you met someone whose spirit matched your own. They recognized each other.

That evening, Paul came with me to the boarding house on Arlington and helped me carry my meagre belongings. I’d gotten a few more pieces of clothing and other things like books, toiletries, my notebooks and my tarot cards. Along with my rolled-up piece of foam, everything fit into my backpack and two other bags. I marvelled that I had been able to collect so much stuff and that I had left my mark on so many things.

I dropped off my stuff in Lisa’s bedroom and went to stand with Lisa on the front porch to have a cigarette. We stood on the front porch. It had once been a royal blue porch that had faded to a bright cobalt blue. As I looked out at the night in front of me, I felt like I was nestled in the night with only the smoke from our cigarettes to guide the stars.

Chapter Twenty-Seven – 6 of Wands

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

The job at the city yard went well.

At the beginning of my shift, I would clean the kitchen, locker room and bathroom, swept the garage’s concrete, losing myself in the work. Sometimes, Gus would play some rock music within the garage, and I would find myself dancing along to the music, only when Gus wasn’t watching. I figured it was best not to antagonize him too much. He already suspected that I was gay and there wasn’t much I could do to change his mind about that, even if it was true.

I tried to stay out of his way and for the most part I succeeded, but there was no way I could stretch eight four hours of work into eight, no matter how hard I tried. I cleaned the same surfaces every day and I kept them clean, but there came a time in the day where there was nothing left for me to do. I would sit and read on a chair I kept near the door so that way I could take a walk every few minutes to look over the surfaces I had cleaned.

After a few days of this, Frank let out a large sigh. “You might as well come over here and talk to me.” He held out his pack of cigarettes. “You want one?”

I knew a peace offering when I saw one and I took a cigarette. I sat down slowly across from him, ready to move back to my chair should he suddenly change his mind. It felt like I was sitting down with some kind of mob boss, and I half expected a cat to hop up on Gus’ lap and for Gus to start petting him. Instead, he was holding out a cigarette. I took it gratefully and sat down across from him. I lit it and watched him watching me.

We each took a drag off our cigarettes and let out a plume of smoke. “Your fingers look funny with that shit on them.” Gus said.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He jabbed his cigarette in the air. “Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

“I’m-” I had been about to do just that when I stopped myself. “Okay.”

“That’s better.” He puffed away on his cigarette for a moment longer. “You’re always doing that. Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Though I’d kick my friends’ asses if they did that to me.

We smoked in silence again. Gus kept shooting glances at the book that I had on my lap. The cover showed black cat and the moon over a green background. “Time Cat,” I told him, taking out a well-loved paperback. I had found it at the Youth Services Bureau, and it had never left my bag since. I had read it so many times by now that sometime, I would thumb the book open to a random page and start reading it from there. “It’s a really amazing book.”

“You read a lot, then? Never stop reading. I put a book down once wen I was young and never picked up the habit again.” He took a drag off his cigarette. “Never lose the habit, kid. Never lose the habit.

“I won’t.” I told him.

I watched Gus out of the corner of my eye. He really didn’t say a lot and, as far as I could see, he didn’t do a lot aside from sitting in the garage, smoking cigarettes, his blue eyes shrouded by thick eyebrows and a haze of smoke. We passed an entire day, and the word faggot didn’t come up again. I doubt he had been talked to by his co-workers for calling me out, it didn’t seem like that kind of garage. I didn’t think that Gus and I would be sharing phone numbers any time soon, but I seemed to have made it over some kind of hurdle with him. I felt like I had won a race and I was standing proud on the finish line. He seemed to actually like me a little and I felt like I was being honoured. I wanted to make him proud, so I made sure to continue doing good work and cleaning every surface that I could see.

Gus waved at me, the cigarette dangling from his fingers making him look as if he were conducting a piece of magic. He opened his mouth to speak, and I wondered what words of wisdom would come out. “Fuck sakes, kid. Slow the fuck down. You’re going to make the rest of us look bad.”