Tag: The Ottawa Mission

Chapter Seventeen – The Star

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Tarot

We ate almost every day the Ottawa Mission.

Sunshine and I would go there to eat lunch and dinner. “The food is amazing,” he said. “It’s like its food being cooked by your mom. It’s that good. They let you leave with sandwiches and sometimes some soup. Every Wednesday, you can go and take three pieces of clothing from the warehouse in the back, and you can take as many books as you like.”

He said this with a smile because he knew that books were where I found my peace as much as tarot cards were where I found my wisdom.

I just remember the crowd of people waiting to get in the first time we went. Everyone was pleasant and even neighbourly. These were people I would have turned away from in my previous life and now I was one of them.

I looked at the cross that sat above the door of the Mission. Normally, the cross would have made me turn away. The cross was one of the symbols from my past that still didn’t sit well with me. The people that found comfort sitting under the cross didn’t make room or give tolerance to people like me. To me, the cross symbolized hatred.

However, there was no hatred here. The crowd held all kinds of people from all walks of life: teenagers like me, mothers with their children, men talking in groups and sharing a moment of laughter or one last cigarette. The crowd of people waiting was full of those who were trying to find their way back to the life that they had come from or those who had made peace with where they were.

There was no malice in the crowd though it began to grow, spilling down the stairs and along the sidewalk. No one pushed each other and there was this soft murmur of conversation that sounded like music. The door opened and as I made my way up the stairs into the main hall of the Mission, I eyed the cross above me. Part of me tried to imagine it was a pair of arms, offering a welcoming embrace. I needed to feel more comfortable in this place and my walls were coming up.

When we got into hall, the music of people’s voices rose higher so that it was steady hum. I closed my eyes and found comfort in those voices, and it was like my body was being swayed along, carried by the music. I looked behind Sunshine and myself and saw a sea of people, all filled with song. The hall was filled with round wooden tables and Sunshine and I took a seat. We were soon joined by several others and all of them were kind. They asked where Sunshine and I grew up and one man’s face opened up as if it had been lit from inside when I told him that I had been born in Ottawa.

“Me too, son. We Ottawa born and bred are few and far between. Everyone here has come from somewhere. No one was content to stay where they were and went off looking for the great wonders of the world.” He tapped his nose. “You and I know the truth. Ottawa is full of magic, so why leave?” He smiled and he looked years younger, his eyes looking like jewels among the hills and valleys of his skin.

When we got in line to get food, I told the woman I only wanted a small amount, seeing the large crowd of people behind me that had still yet to be served. The volunteer that was serving food gave me a smile as if she had known my thoughts. “Don’t you worry about anyone else at the moment. Here, I’ll give you a full plate, you need to eat.” I thanked her and tried to stop my cheeks from blushing.

The food was as good as Sunshine had promised and I was even able to go up for seconds. As we were leaving, someone offered us food to take home like sandwiches and soup; there was even someone offering essentials like deodorant and toothpaste. I felt guilty for taking these things, but Sunshine had no such qualms. He took a wrapped sandwich and cup of soup for me, so I accepted the deodorant and toothpaste. It felt like I had been offered a meal filled with hope and kindness and my whole body felt more alive than it had in a long time.

As we made our way from the Mission, I looked back at the door with the cross above it. If I squinted my eyes a little, it looked more like a star than a cross, a beacon of hope for all those that needed it, even me. I had to start believing that I was worthy of the kindness that other people showed me, even if it did make me feel uncomfortable.

I let Sunshine hook his arm in mine as we made our way back home, feeling for the first time in a long time that I was going to be okay.  

Chapter Thirteen – Death

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide, Tarot

We spent our days in the square.

It was where we gathered when we had nothing to do and wanted to be with others but still have the freedom to be outside. There was a Coffee Revolution on one side with a large patio and on the other side, there was a Scotiabank. There were other little stores too, but we stayed away from those stores. We felt comfortable more out in the open areas. I know that I felt safer among a group of people than I did sleeping in the shelters. I had stayed at the Ottawa Mission before, and I had felt like I was out there for the world to gawk at.

When I had stayed at the Ottawa Mission, I’d had a clean room with four walls and a small window, a simple bed with clean sheets and a blanket. It is a place for healing, but when you come out of there, people look at you differently. Your story is visible for everyone to see, and you don’t belong to anyone.

Among the people here, I was among my family. Sunshine and the people I knew here had become part of me in some way. I was surprised by how quickly you could form a bond with someone. All you had here was your word and your reputation. As long as I was honest about who I was and treated people kindly until they gave me a reason not to, I could be part of this family. It was that simple to have a family and I had never experienced anything like it. In my biological and extended families, there were lies, memories held onto for too long, jealousy and pain caused by other people. There were shadows with the occasional moment of light. There were promises that were broken time and time again.

With the people here on the streets, we supported one another, and we fought for each other. These were my brothers and sisters, and this surprised me. To be accepted for who I was and the fact that people wanted to know me was mind-blowingly amazing. It felt wonderful not to justify who I was and talk about what had brought me here. I simple was.

At the end of the day, we would go back to wherever we had found to sleep and rest our heads, but during the day, we always found each other. It was like there was a homing beacon that led us together.

I remember sitting in the square one day with my family, the sun bright on my face and in my eyes. I turned to look away from the suns rays and found myself looking at my mother. She was walking with a friend and looked just as shocked to see me as I was to see her. I hadn’t thought I’d ever see my mother here, but I knew that she often went out on Friday nights of went shopping on the weekends. Still, it I had never thought that I would see her here, or rather that I couldn’t comprehend the sudden clash of my two worlds: where I had been and where I was now.

My mother did not slow down when she saw me. She continued talking to her friend and kept walking. Her eyes looked at me though and I tried to hear what my mother was saying without the power of words. I felt an ocean stretch between us, each of us on our own island and unable to touch each other. I watched the current take my mother away from me and into the waves.

I sat there stunned, my head filled only with the sound of waves and the scrape of metal and steel when the waves hit the rocks around me. I tried to think of what she could have done, what kind of life receiver she could have thrown me, and my brain came up completely empty except for the sound of the waves hitting the rocks with furious abandonment. I knew at that moment that if I didn’t give up an offering of some kind, the wave would take me, too.

Closing my eyes, I tried to delve into the wires, skin and light. It took me a while to find it, but it was still pristine. It was the mind garden that I carried with me, the plants the result of everything I had planted.

Around me, my family carried on and I could hear the gentle sounds of their voices, but I was still within myself. I knew what I had to give to the waters, what I could freely give them in order the calm the waters within me. I didn’t want to break, not now, not after all this time. My mother told me that I would have to learn to do everything by myself, that nobody else would be able to do it for me.

Up until quite recently, my mother had been the one who had helped me and made me realize that anything I wanted to do was possible, despite being disabled. She had helped me to realize that even though I had difficulties I had to fight against every day, I could fight the battle. Even better, I could win.

I just didn’t realize that when my mother had said that I would have to do everything by myself and nobody else was going to help me, she was also talking about herself.

I reached down and gently plucked the Lily-of-the-Valley. Its petals were a wonder of blue, a few different shades so that the petals were made of water. The petals had reminded me of sapphires, and they always shone like beacons in the dark when I got lost for too long among my plants.

I went to the small pond in the centre of my mind and placed the lily within the water. The hiss of the waves and the strong screech of metal stopped. I wondered where the currents would take the lily. I knew only that by the time I saw it again, I might be ready to see my mother again.