Tag: Pride

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-Six – The 5 of Wands

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

Fox brought me to talk to one of the women at the YSB.

Her name was Vicki, and she had a riot of blond curls. “We’d like to offer you a job. You’d be working at one of the city yards. You’d be cleaning up the garage. You’d work 8am to 4pm. Would that be all right?”

“My goodness of course.” I told her. In truth, the endless days of doing nothing except hanging out with Sunshine and my family on the streets or with Lisa and her friends was wearing me down. I wanted something to do, something that would make me feel like I was making a difference in the world, however small.

Fox came with me for the first time. He was one of the people that helped to find patrons of the Youth Services Bureau that wanted to work. The YSB had funds to pay workers and though the responsibilities were rudimentary like cleaning or picking up garbage, they paid a fair wage that didn’t affect the money you got from welfare if you were receiving a check each month. I didn’t care that I was cleaning a city yard. I was just happy to be doing something with my time.

When we arrived at the city yard, Fox introduced me to everyone that worked there and the other guys I would be working with. I would be only one cleaning up the garage and three others would be going out in trucks to help pick up the garbage and trash that they found in the streets. I didn’t mind at all; I loved to clean. If the other guys wanted to pick up the garbage, I was happy to clean the garage.  Cleaning had always brought me a kind of joy, like finding brightness that before had been only shadows.

The guy that ran the city yard gave me a vest to wear and a bucket of cleaning supplies. He explained my job. I wouldn’t be cleaning the actual garage, that was full of smoke and dust no matter what you did. Instead, I would clean the locker rooms from top to bottom, the kitchen, washrooms and empty lockers. If I was able to, I would clean the windows for the garage. Basically, I would clean every surface I could touch.

He showed me where the vacuum was along with the buckets and cleaning materials. I thanked him. I was shy around him, being that he was an authority figure. I didn’t need to worry though, he was pretty much an open book. Frank had a bright open face and longish brown hair that hung down to his shoulders. “We’re so happy to have you cleaning for us, Jamie. It’s hard to clean. I mean, I’m on medication. It affects my balance, you know? I used to do all the cleaning, but I feel last month, and I have to be careful. I can still drive thank goodness for that. Do you take antidepressants?”

“No,” I said. “But I do deal with depression.”

“You gotta get yourself balanced, Jamie. No one is going to do it for you. I used to think that antidepressants were the devil, but now I know that Prozac is my friend. It keeps the voices away, you know?”

I knew all about voices. I could hear my muses talking all the time, telling me stories they wanted me to write down, different poems that they wanted me to write, snippets of text or poetry that they wanted me to remember. I nodded to show Frank that I understood him.

“Sometimes, it just gets to be too much, you know? I don’t know how many milligrams I’m on; I just take what my doctor gives me, but gosh I’m so much happier. You can’t always fight against yourself. There’s no shame, you know?”

I wonder what he saw in me to make him open up to me this way, but I felt an immediate kinship with Frank. He had been misunderstood, too. “Sure,” I said. “Sure thing.”

“That’s the ticket. Let me show you who you’re going to be working with. This here is Gus. He’s a grumpy sun of a gun, but he means you no harm if you get used to him. Bars worse than his bite if you get my meaning.”

“Sure,” I knew plenty of people like that, even those whose bark matched the sound of their bite. My hackles went up a little bit and I reminded myself to be respectful.

Gus was a well-rounded man with a mop of white hair and a large mustache. He was smoking a cigarette, and it dangled from his lip. He gave me a once over. His eyes stopped at the sparkly nail polish that decorated my fingers. “What’s that about?” Gus said, pointing at my nails.

“Just something of a prank, sir.” I said, trusting my initial instinct to hide myself as much as I could while being so far out in the open. “Roommates of mine painted my nails while I was asleep.”

He blinked at me in surprise, either shocked by the lie or believing me, I wasn’t sure. He took another drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out. “Well, you may be a faggot, but you’ll do.”