Tag: Tarot Reading

Chapter Sixty-One – Queen of Swords

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

After the magic circle, I ran into Soph and his friend Katie. They walked towards me and I my spirit was buoyed by the fact he smiled as he looked at me. When I got closer to him, Katie smiled and gave him a nudge in the ribs.

“Hi,” he said to me.

I found it amazing the amount of meaning that one small word could have. I could feel the blush starting in my cheeks and I gave him what I was sure was a wobbly smile. “Hi,” I said back. “Um, how are you?”

“Soph has been talking about nothing but you,” Katie said.

My blush deepened. “Really?”

“Yeah, nothing x rated or anything, but he’s into you.”

“Really?” I wished my brain would think of something else to say.

“Really.” Soph said. I could see a yearning in his eyes, and I wanted to give into that emotion. Soph had seen me naked and had not run from me. He wanted me, I could feel that from where I stood. It would be so easy and still, I held myself back.

I heard someone walking up behind me and I watched as Soph and Katie kind of snapped to attention. The look of lust in Soph’s gaze was gone, replaced with what looked like fear. I hear a voice behind me.

“Jamieson are you done with your bath?” I turned to find Sophie at my side. “Excellent, come and walk with me.” She looped an arm around one of mine. “Good morning Soph, Katie.”

They nodded and smiled at her and stood stock still as if afraid to move. I gave Soph one last glance until Sophie snapped her fingers in my face. “Focus on me, please.”

“Sorry,”

“It’s okay. I’m all for a sure thing, Jamieson. But too much of a good thing can be harmful.”

“It depends on what it is.”

“Yes and no. I mean, far be it from me to tell you not to go after a sure thing, but shouldn’t you work on loving yourself instead for now?”

We walked and I took comfort from the breeze that moved around us, as if it were asking me to choose a path. I noticed that the wind seemed to be even stronger when I was with Sophie, but I didn’t know if that was my imagination or the way she conducted herself. I know that she spoke from a place of wisdom and I tended to take her words to heart.

“I’m going to say this and you’re going to listen and you can decide to do with the words as you wish. Are you listening?

I could hear the sounds of the air whispering in the leaves of the trees and watched as my cigarette smoke was dancing around me, twisted into curls and ribbons by the wind. I stopped walking and turned to face her. “Yes, I am.”

“You’re still broken,” she said, placing a hand on where my heart lay within my chest. “You’re broken, hurting and lost. You had true love, it takes a long time to get over that.”

“Francis didn’t love me.”

“Yes, he did. Anyone looking at the two of you could see that he loved you as much if not more than you loved him. It’s why he pushed you away.”

I snorted. “I’m too young, apparently.”

She took my cigarette out of my hand and dropped it on the dirt path and squashed the ember with her right foot. Then she placed her hands on my shoulders and looked into me, not just at me. “You are young in heart but old in spirit. That’s a good thing. It means that you will always believe in the possibility of love, but don’t you think you need to love yourself, first? I have nothing against a roll in the hay, that should be a requirement for everyone. But you won’t find yourself in the bed of another.”

A tear slid down my cheek, made all the more real because it was such a beautiful day. “Why did he leave me?” I asked.

Sophie took a moment to think before she answered. I could see her choosing her words, trying to convey her words as clearly as she could. “Because he was afraid. When you meet your soulmate, you have two choices, run towards them or run away. Francis made his choice and now you have to make yours.”

We stood there listening to the wind for a moment and I tried to let the thoughts that there was something wrong with me, that Francis left me because I was damaged float away in the wind. I knew that it would take time, those thoughts had hooked themselves deeply in my mind.

“Well, if he was my soulmate, then that’s it. There’s no other love for me,” I said.

Letting out a laugh, Sophie looped her arm through mine again. “Now if you believe that, you are a fool. A person meets as many soulmates in their life as they are ready for. Francis was your first, but there will be others.” She gave me a rare smile. “Now come, take me back to camp. I’d love another cup of coffee and I wouldn’t say no to something else to eat, either.”

Chapter Fifty-Three – 5 of Swords

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

I was so angry.

I was also surprised at the thoughts that were going through my head. Every memory of Francis was now tainted and dulled in my head because of what he had done. The fact that he had talked to everyone but me saddened me; the fact that he wouldn’t let me talk to him at all, that he wouldn’t talk to me at all, infuriated me.

I had been sad for days, but gradually, the sadness passed into anger. The water that had surrounded me slowly evaporated as the anger took over. There was a storm in my mind filled with hot shadows made from my fears come to life. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Francis and his form wavered as if I were seeing him through the film of heat from a fire.

As much as I loved him, I was so angry. I couldn’t bring myself to hate him, for who could hate their first true love? Lisa had told me it was okay to hate someone, but I took offense to that. My love for Francis still ran so deeply in me. I couldn’t stop the flow of my thoughts and emotions, even if there had been a dam put in place in front of the emotions. I had used my mind to place a barrier around my heart and the memories that I had of Francis. I made sure that the metal barrier in my mind was sharp and pointy so that it would hurt every time I tried to look at the time I had spent with him. It was easier for me to go keep my head up afterward and didn’t hurt so much to go on without Francis.

And yet, I would find myself taking out those memories and looking at them, even though I knew that I was hurting myself each time I plucked a memory from that metal box. I would try to look at the memories through a thin red haze. I knew that it was hurting me to keep looking in, but I wanted to see what I had done wrong. When did he stop loving me? I was so lost within myself that even though I kept going, I was stuck. I said this much to Lisa one night.

She’d brought home a rare treat. She pulled open her pack of cigarettes and presented me with a rolled joint. “You look like you really need to loosen up.”

“Why, I’m not uptight.”

“You are so fucking controlled, Jamieson. When was the last time you did something for fun? And you’ve been mired in the dark forest; I don’t mind telling you that. Francis isn’t everything, Jamieson. You need to stop beating yourself up and thinking of him that way. You’re everything.”

Lighting the joint, Lisa took a few puffs and passed it to me. I gladly took in a few puffs of smoke, hopeful that it would at least lessen the pain that I was in and soften the edges of the steel knives. I passed the joint back to her, and she took a few more puffs of her own. Soon, the joint half gone, we were both giggling like school children. My face hurt from laughing, having been kept in a frown for so long. 

The moment made me realize how long I had been hurting myself. I shook my head and looked at Lisa, her eyes large with mirth. “He really was a dickhead.” I couldn’t bring myself to call him an asshole like Lisa did on a regular basis since he had broken up with me. Dickhead was as far as I was willing to go. I still loved him. It hurt to admit this to myself, but I knew that my love for him would take a while to fade.

Letting out a laugh, Lisa said “Well, he does like dick, so it’s an appropriate nickname! I’ll call him that next time I see him.”

I didn’t think anything of it until a few days later. My pager went off, and I saw Francis’ number flash on the screen. My whole world seemed to pause and go still. I couldn’t hear the sounds of Lisa in the next room, or the sounds of traffic from the freeway near by. I stared at the number and wondered if I wanted to talk to him or hear anything that he had to say.

I was still wondering this as I walked out the door, lit a cigarette, and found myself at the payphone across the street. I put a quarter in and dialed his number and when the phone clicked and he said hello, the sound returned to the world around me. His voice could make me believe in any kind of possibility and I wondered which one I would find here.

“Hello, Francis?” I said.

“Hello,” I was surprised to hear the coldness in his voice. “Don’t you mean dickhead?” he asked. “That’s what you’ve been calling me.”

The volume of the noise around me went even louder. Francis’ words seemed too loud and his words felt like a slap. “I mean, I could have called you worse things. You’re lucky that it was just dickhead.”

“That’s what I am to you? I loved you, Jamieson. You don’t talk about people you love like that.”

“You do when they are being mean. You hurt me, Francis.” Even saying his name hurt me and I felt the pain in my chest, the swords clanking together. “I have a right to be upset after you did what you did.”

“I set you free, Jamieson.” I heard the click of a lighter and Francis took in a breath of smoke. “You should be thanking me. I’m not a dickhead.”

Louder than any other sound was the loud beating of my heart. I could hear it in my ears and the noise of it seemed to fill my mind completely. I thought of every other man I had been with, and I didn’t use my voice. My heart wanted me to know that I had one. I closed my eyes and watched as I took hold of one of the swords that surrounded my heart. In my minds eye, I held it out towards Francis.

Letting my eyes slide open, I took in my own breath of smoke. “You’re right, Francis. You’re not a dickhead. I believe that asshole fits you a lot better. You don’t get to break my heart and then tell me how I feel. This is on you.”

I hung up the phone before he could start talking again because I realized that what he said no longer mattered. I could grieve now, finally seeing Francis for what he was. It seemed that he had given me a gift in the end, the clarity that can only come from pain.

I held on to the sword like a dowsing rod and let it lead me back home.

Chapter Fifty-Two – 4 of Swords

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

I arrived back at Lisa’s with a broken heart.

Every breath I took into myself hurt and I wondered if this would be the way it was from now on. I dried the tears that had started again before I entered the house. I wanted to appear strong, but I knew that this would not last long. I’d resolved myself to the idea that tears were a sign that I was strong enough to cry. I just wished the tears would stop. I had cried all the way back to Lisa’s.

She seemed genuinely unsurprised to see me back so quickly. “Jamieson, you’re home early.”

I looked at her and saw her kind face and knew that I couldn’t keep it from her for any length of time. “Francis broke up with me.” I said, new tears sliding down my cheeks.

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

That stopped me short, and I felt like I’d been slapped. “Why are you sorry?” Her words clicked into my head. “What do you mean, you know? What are you talking about?”

She patted the chair beside her and passed her pack of cigarettes towards me. I reached for the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out for myself. Getting up quickly, Lisa put the kettle on to boil. She was drinking coffee, but she drank it at all times of the day. She knew I liked a cup of herbal tea in the evenings. If she was brewing me tea, I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to hear what she was going to say.

She waited until the kettle was boiled and she poured the water into the mug. I could smell peppermint across the kitchen. Bringing the tea back to the table, she put the cup beside me and took my free hand in hers. “I know because we talked about it.”

“It meaning us? Like, Francis and myself?”

“Yeah, he’s been talking to everyone about his feelings for months now.”

“Months?” I felt the ground move beneath me. Looking down, I wasn’t surprised to see that the earth had opened up around me. If I looked too deeply into the earth, I could see the air moving within it and feel the wind on my skin. “What did you talk about?” I could barely get the words out. It felt like I was having to pull each word from my lips, the air to create them gone for now.

“Well, how young you were, of course. How he loved you but realized that he didn’t love you in the way you needed to be loved. There were so many years between you.”

“That didn’t matter to me!” I told her, letting out a puff of smoke. I watched it float to the ceiling to join the ether and wished that I could find a way to disappear so easily. “I knew he was having difficulty with it; he kept saying that I was only six years older than his son.”

“Then you see the problem. He already had two kids; he didn’t want a third one.”

Whatever words I was going to speak were slapped out of me. I closed my eyes and looked down at my heart which still bore the scars Francis had given me. I held my heart in my hands, and I cupped my hands around my heart to keep it safe. I would not let him hurt me. I kept my eyes closed when I spoke next. “Why didn’t he talk to me?”

“Because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He loved you in the beginning, Jamieson. But there was more than twenty years between the both of you.”

“That didn’t matter to me. I love him and never saw age when I looked at him.”

“Yeah, well he couldn’t overlook it.”

“Fine, but he should have talked to me about it. Who else did he talk to about breaking up with me?”

An uncomfortable look came over her face. “Everyone,” she said.

“Like, everyone we know? Define everyone. Like Darnelle and Sophie? Jen?”

“That’s a good start. But when I mean everyone, I mean anyone who would listen. He was so broken up about everything. It’s been going on for months.”

“But we’ve been together for months, almost a year.”

“He started talking to me about it soon after you got together. He loved you but didn’t know what to do.”

“Yeah, well, he certainly knew what to do when I was sucking his dick.” The words came out of my mouth unbidden. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She pushed my cup of tea towards me. “Francis is an asshole. He may be all flash in the pan and sparkles, but I still think that when you have a chance at love, you don’t start looking for excuses to take your heart back.”

I closed my eyes again and could see my heart. It looked whole again. There were cracks that ran along the surface, but it was still beating. I could get through this. I had to get through this. For a moment in the dark, I was beside Shades while he fucked a woman, and I opened my eyes so that I could let go of that memory. I was always giving my heart to the people who didn’t want it. Here I was having discovered what love could truly be and the magic it could create, but it had been a lie, too.

Lisa could sense where my mind was going. “He loved you, Jamieson. I’m sure of it.”

“Then why did he push me away?” I asked. Fresh tears slid down my cheeks.

“I think he was pushing himself away. Not that I’m playing devils advocate, but I can’t imagine what it was like for him to love you and fear you at the same time.”

I let out a laugh. “Why would he fear me?”

“Because you gave him the love that he’s always been wanted and that terrifies him. He doesn’t think he deserved it, so he runs away from it, hurting people in the process.”

I nodded and got up from the table. I took my tea and went out back, sitting down on the back stoop in the dark. I could see bugs surrounding the lamp by the door. I listened to the wind and the sounds of traffic and other people in the distance going about their lives, unaware that it felt like mine had ended.

In my minds eye, I saw myself holding my heart to my chest. I knew that what it needed was love and care. I couldn’t give my heart to another; I had to keep mine close and love it as much as I could. I would focus on loving myself, instead of loving others who could not love me back. I took the four shards of metal that had been left in my heart and gently pulled them free. I took the time to fashion a box around my heart that would protect it and keep my heart from harm.

I would give my heart the rest that it needed so that it would be able to heal in peace. It was the least I could do after everything that my heart had seen me through. I opened my eyes again and looked into the shadows, knowing that I had to find my peace after I had time to grieve.

I lit a cigarette and the smoke faded in the shadows much as I wished to do.

Chapter Forty-Eight – Queen of Cups

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

There were always people at Lisa’s house.

One of Lisa’s friends was a woman named Darnelle. She had dark hair and a quick wit. She had been the one to introduce Paganism to Lisa and she seemed to resent Lisa for how little respect she showed the Magick. When she was in the house, I knew that I was in the presence of an elder and she made sure to let everyone know that.

“You can’t conduct a ceremony without calling the quarters,”

“Says who?”

“Says the way it’s always been done. You must respect tradition.” Darnelle would say.

“I want to make new traditions,” Lisa would respond.

They had this argument often and it got to the point where I could follow it like a tennis match. “But you have to respect the Gods,” Darnelle would respond.

“What do you think I’m trying to do? The whole ritual is to honour them.”

I didn’t understand the push and pull between them. To me, Magick and Paganism made a lot of things possible because it was so open. There was no right way to find your light. This is what all the people I knew in the community had taught me. They were all Pagan, but how each person had gotten to this point was different, just as their journeys were not the same.

I thought of my own journey that had brought me here and I knew that each step I had taken had been one of choice. Paganism existed in a place beyond choice. It simply was, shaped by a person’s ideals and what they believed. Their spirit told them what kind of things they needed. The fact that Darnelle always insisted that her way was the right way grated a little.

Yet she could be incredibly kind. She would stock Lisa’s fridge and cupboards without asking, showing up with bags of groceries. There were quite a few people living in Lisa’s apartment and all of us were on welfare. Money was thin, and the extra food was always a blessing.  She always had a spare cigarette for me, and I loved Darnelle despite her rigid stance on how the occult should be practiced.

I ended up going to see Darnelle on my own and would travel to her place to see her. My mother had walked away from me, so Darnelle became a kind of stand in for my mom. She had two children of her own and they were in and out of Darnelle’s house often. Even though Darnelle had a rigid sense of what was right and wrong in magic, she was keen to help me develop mine.

“I know you’re a warrior witch right now, but what path are you going to take when the need to fight is gone?” She motioned at me with a cigarette between two fingers. “Warrior magic is strong, but it can wear a person out. You don’t want to be guns blazing all the time.”

“I am strong.” I told her. I looked into her eyes, dark like a cave that invites you in but hides so many wonders not ever seen before.

 I took offense to the idea that she would find me weak. I wanted and needed to prove myself to her. Darnelle had this way of seeing what a person carried within them without them having to tell her anything. It was like she could see right into you and would judge you based on how strongly the rivers flowed within.

She lit another cigarette and looked at me through the smoke. “I never said you weren’t. But aren’t you tired of being strong all the fucking time? I told you that you can’t keep going at that rate, you’ll fucking burn out. Do you think I want that for you?”

I lit my own cigarette and took my time to respond. Darnelle demanded respect. You could speak your mind, but she demanded I take the time to respond and not lash out. She always wanted me to think of what I really wanted to say, what the heart of the matter was. “If I’m not a warrior, what am I?”

She shook her head. “No, you misunderstand me. You will always be a warrior, but practicing warrior Magick all the time will tap you out. Look at what it does to Lisa. She lets it be the excuse for her ignorance, uses it to be the reason for her rudeness.” Tapping her cigarette in the ashtray she left it there to smoke while she got up to put the kettle on. Taking out two earthenware mugs, she popped to orange pekoe bags into them and then came back for her cigarette. “No, you can’t be a warrior all the time. You’ve had to fight so much. You don’t have to be a warrior all the time.”

“I don’t know how to do anything else but fight.” I told her.

“Well, then maybe it’s time you look at magic that will help heal you instead of magic that will aid you for battle, hm?”

I watched as she put out her cigarette and went back to her kitchen to get the mugs of tea. I wondered about the idea of actually loving myself and letting myself heal from the scars that I carried not just on my skin, but also within me.

I added some milk and sugar to the tea, and we held up our mugs. “To healing,” Darnelle said.

When we clinked our mugs together, I imagined that I could hear the sound of bells over the whisper of the waves. I tried to listen to what the waves within me were saying and took a sip of my tea.

Chapter Forty-Six – Prince of Cups

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

“My mother is into the same shit as you are,” Max said.

I let out a snort. “Well, it’s not shit,” I said. “Magic isn’t shit, it’s the people that use it that take it to a darker place that are shit.”

She shrugged and shook her head when I offered her a cigarette. “Whatever. I mean, she was kind of into it before, but now it’s more so what with Francis and her being roommates for so long. Francis is the kind of guy that fills the world with wonder, everyone is drawn to him. I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

I was surprised to find myself blushing. “Is it that obvious?”

“Hey, I’m happy if you’re happy. Just be careful.”

I felt a moment of panic and I wasn’t sure why. “What do you mean? You don’t think that Francis is a bad person, do you?” I wondered if my gut had led me off course, but I knew Francis with my whole heart and spirit.

“No, no. He’s never been mean. But have you looked at him?”

“Of course I have, he’s beautiful.” I said.

She gave me a goofy grin and nudged my shoulder with her own. “I know that, but when you look into him, what do you see?”

I thought of every time that I looked into Francis’ eyes and the sea that always drew me in. I thought of the water every time I thought of Francis because of the endless sea that swirled within him. Depending on how many emotions he was holding onto, sometimes I swore that I could see fish swimming within the deep waters.. I told this to Max. “I just see the sea.” I said.

She nodded. “Everyone is so taken by it. I was, too. I still am a little but keep myself to myself for the most part.” She shook her head. “He’s never hurt me, not like that. But he’s just so sad.” Max looked like she was going to cry. I too her hand to give her some kind of comfort.

“Just be careful, okay? We got along like a house on fire at first, and he’s been like a dad to me for so long. But there’s just too much there. Too much,” she scrunched up her face, trying to think of the words she wanted to say. “Like, just think of taking a tsunami, the biggest and most epic one you’ve ever seen, and shove it all into one person. That’s like Francis. He holds too much. Haven’t you seen his moods?”

I nodded. I knew that Francis could get withdrawn and lost within himself, especially if he was sewing or creating something. Even after months with him, I knew little about him. I knew nothing about what it was like for him growing up, what it had been like for him growing up. He always wanted to focus on the now and the future, the one that we were making with each other. “I always want to talk about where I’ve come from so that I can appreciate where I am going.” I told her.

“Exactly. Francis never wants to talk about what came before. I mean, since he left his wife years ago, he’s only ever had one boyfriend. He’s been alone for years before he met you. That’s a lot of emotion to handle for someone Francis’ age, let alone you.”

“I love him even with the age difference.”

“I know you do. I just want you to be careful. You see no boundaries and no worries and I’m pretty sure that is sometimes all that Francis sees.” She took my hands in hers. “I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

She reached into my pack and took two cigarettes and handed one to me. “Just don’t tell my mom I’m smoking,” she said.

“Your secret is safe with me.”