Tag: writing

Chapter Nine – The Hermit

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

Sunshine lived with two other guys in a two-bedroom apartment.

It was this squat building painted a burgundy too dark to be considered gentle and there was yellow trim everywhere on the outside of the building. The building looked tired, but damn it was trying. “It’s not much,” Sunshine said. “I get a large room with a window that looks out into the alley. There are sometimes that I like to sit there and listen to the music that the evening has to offer.”

He gave the old building a wink. “Still, she can be temperamental like all old places are.” Giving me first a shrug and then a saucy wink. “At least she’s trying!”

The lobby was a one room with a jumble of mailboxes that looked strangely like mouths. I was reminded of the doorknobs from The Labyrinth for some reason and wondered what kind of a world I was about to enter. There was graffiti in the stairwell that had been there for years. The words had faded to the point where they were unintelligible. In certain sections of the stairs, it looked as if a painter’s pallet had exploded: the stairs were covered in bold blacks and yellows, arcs of magenta, vibrant oranges faded to the dusk of dusk itself.

To my mind, only the fey folk lived here or those desperate to live. It felt like home to me right away. My stepfather had taught me to recognize the signs of what had once been a good building. This building may not look pretty, but I could see what the building had once been underneath the grime, crumbling stone and faded windows. She had been a jewel in her day. The wood held the stories of these people that had come before me. I may not be here very long, I thought, but it would be home while I was.

Sunshine’s roommates nodded at me when Sunshine and me came into the apartment. “This is Dan and Mike. They’re nice. Their room is that way. They don’t want anyone knowing that they are a couple, so mums the word, honey.”

We passed by a kitchen, the bathroom and then ended up in Sunshine’s room. He was right, it was a spacious room and the window to the outside world was huge. I could see the deep blue of the dusky sky and it brought me comfort. “Come here, honey. Look, it’s like a window box. You can even sit in there and write. I like to do that. I write in my journal sometime, you know? I know that it will be published someday.”

He went over to his stuff and pulled out a roll of foam. “I don’t have a lot for you to sleep on. My mother got me a futon, but it’s only a single. I can give you this to sleep on? I’m sorry honey, I wish I had more.”

I took the foam with reverence. “Thank you, it’s more than enough. You’ve given me so much already.”

“You go on and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back. I’m going to see if those two guys have left any food in the house.”

While he was gone, I took a seat in the window. If I wanted to, I could have opened it and dangled my feet out into the alleyway. Instead, I was content to sit there looking at a slice of the moon that I could see. There was a haze around the building that seemed to take on more life the darker the sky got. It’s like the building wanted to shine for all those that might need her.

I sat there and tried to focus on my own light into my words. I sat there, holding my pen and paper in hand and just enjoyed the moment instead. There was no other sound except my own breathing and Sunshine in the kitchen.

I knew that the world held the dark and the light and that I had a choice to make. I could let what happened with Shades dim my light, I could disappear into the uncertainty of this world and let myself become lost within it. What did I have anymore but my own will? I could choose to let that go, too and embrace what may come.

Or I could choose to dust myself off, get up and not have my life determined for me by a man. I was in a place of comfort with someone I trusted, and I hadn’t had that with Shades. I thought of the steps that I had taken and the path I had chosen for myself. I would see this path through to the end, no matter where it took me.

As I looked up at the sliver of the moon I could see in a dusky blue sky, I promised myself this.

Sunshine came back into the room holding two mugs. “Good news, honey! They didn’t finish everything off.” His smile was infectious as he held up the two mugs. “Chicken noodle soup!”

Chapter Seven – The Chariot

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

I spent a lot of time at the YSB.

It was a home away from home really and gave me a place to get away from Shades when he was in one of his moods which was happening more and more lately.

The YSB was a haven of safety in a world that felt new and frightening. It was a place where the waters seemed to stand still around me and I didn’t feel like I was going to be taken out to sea. Whenever I was with Shades or out on the streets, I hear the steady ebb, flow and wave of water around me and within. My emotions were uncertain of where this path would take me. The waters only calmed when I put pen to paper.

I had taken a notepad and pen with me when I left home and I had taken to writing in it when I found myself lost. I would often go through the tarot deck that my brother had given me and wrote down my thoughts about certain cards within the Ancient Egyptian Tarot. It helped me to understand them. The scratching of the pen would calm the waves, and it was like the words were leading me home to myself.

I would sit in one of the chairs at the YSB, talking to friends, reading books that I found on the bookshelves, delving further into my tarot deck and writing. Interspersed through the nots about tarot and my thoughts, I would write poems, casting my words like stones upon the paper.

Words had been my comfort for so long. I had found my way in the world through them, and I had written voraciously since I was a child. I had to write; it was the way I found my voice when I felt that I didn’t have one. All throughout high school, my writing gave me the comfort I needed. I didn’t even realize I wanted to be a writer, or that I was one. Writing and words were just part of who I was. My pen had been quiet, but I had begun to take the journal out from time to time. There were only a handful of pages left, and I had to keep my writing small, but even so, they came out in a small torrent, and they carried me along, letting me know that they had my back, much like my cards. The words let me know that spirit was always there.

I looked at the pages left in my journal and wondered what I would fill those pages with, what words would fall out of me and find their way together.

One of the workers of the Youth Services Bureau stopped by my table, a woman named Rebecca. I later found out that all of the people that worked there were social workers. They were some of the very best people in my life at the time. They took care of me, each in their different way. Some would sit outside with us while we smoked cigarettes and others would walk around making sure we had food, or we had been able to take a shower.

She gave me a kind look. “What are you reading?”

“It’s my journal. I’ve been writing in it, but I’m running out of room.”

“Well, that’s awful,” she said. “You don’t want to stop a story or a poem in midsentence.”

I shrugged and gave her a weak smile. “There’s not much I can do. I’m running out of paper.”

She looked at my face and she could see the longing there. The pen lay on the table in front of me, but I didn’t reach for it. She saw my hand twitch and gave me a smile. “Hold on a second, I have an idea.”

Rebecca walked away for a moment and rummaged in the desk where the social worker on duty would sit. She returned a few minutes later with a few sheets of paper. She had folded them in half. When she handed them to me, it felt like she was giving me water or the breath of life. I could hear my pen click in joy on the table.

“You can’t stop story before it’s done,” she said. “You can fit them in the back of your journal so that you can keep writing. If you need more, just let me know.”

I nodded. “Thank you,” I told her, knowing no other words.

I slipped the paper into my journal and let the torrent of words take me forward where they would.

Chapter Five – The Hierophant

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

Even though I was staying with Shades, my bag was always with me.

It held everything I owned, and I didn’t feel safe leaving it with him. I just got a feeling that my belongings weren’t safe with him if I wasn’t with them. To a passerby, the bag was full of an odd sort of collection, a hodge podge of things that didn’t seem to connect or have any kind of order.

They were the only things I left home with.

My stepfather had given me fifteen minutes to pack what I wanted to take with me when he kicked me out. I had looked around my room and tried to think of what I would need to make me feel more comfortable in a transitory lifestyle. I had no idea where I would end up, no set notion of where I was going and no idea what I was about to do.

That was okay, though. It was better than living under his roof. I was never really at home beneath it. I had a room, but it was never really mine. It was a waystation of sorts, even I knew it in some rudimentary way. It was a home, but it wasn’t mine, not really.

I had looked around my room and thought logically about what I would need, knowing that everything would have to be small and lightweight. I went around my room, looking at everything I had gathered crow like around me, all my clothes and things: gadgets and wonders, books filled with worlds, CDs filled with anthems, joys and understanding.

I knew that I would need to take very little with me. What did I actually need beyond a shadow of a doubt. I took my time to choose the things I would need no matter where I was. I took my alarm clock so that I could set always get up when I need to and have order in a world that had none. I took three t shirts and three pairs of underwear so that I would always have a spare and a change plus the shirt I wore. I took one hoodie. I had a little bag of toiletries: deodorant, toothbrush, soap. I took Playing Beatie Bow by Ruth Park and Mine for Keeps by Jean Little because they were a comfort, and they were thin and light.

I took what ID of mine that I could find and my tarot cards, the box beginning to fall away. I checked my wallet. I had thirty dollars to my name and little bit of paper that contained things I had written down.

I had collected these things to me, going around the room and gathering to me and finding a place for them in my bag. Every spot was special, and I didn’t want to weigh myself down too much with a lot of stuff. I took one last thing: a silver ring with a wolf etched to it in Haida art. It was my connection and touchstone to spirit.

I kept all of this with me at all times, either on my back or beside me, always in view and I had chosen each piece for myself. There was no panic in any of my choices. I knew that I had to leave room for other items and treasures that I would find along the way. I had to leave room for myself so that I could grow wings.

I knew that every time I took my bag with me that I didn’t trust him. Could I love someone I didn’t trust? I knew the answer and wasn’t sure how long that I could stay with someone who I didn’t trust, who hadn’t so much as kissed me. We’d done other things, but never that. I knew that it was the most intimate that you could be with another person and Shades and I didn’t share that between us. I knew the signs were there and that this was only the fist step along on this new journey.

I had no idea where it would take me, but I knew that I had packed my talismans and brought them with me for some semblance of normalcy. Less a bag of personal items, it was a bag that contained what I thought contained magic. I just wondered where that magic would take me.

I lay there at nighttime, Shades shirtless beside me, listening to his breathing as he slept. His snores sounded like the wind as I looked at the night stars outside the window, the air hot with the heat of summer, a candle we had lit earlier beginning to sputter.

As I fell asleep, I watched the shadows on the walls and wondered what I would become.

Chapter Two – The High Priestess

by Jamieson Wolf, posted in A Tarot Guide

Life took on a different shape for me.

I found it surprisingly easy to let go of the life I had lived and embrace the new one that stood out in front of me. No rules, no engagements, no expectations of me. The sheer amount of freedom was almost intoxicating.

Shades and I shared the same bed, but it turned out the only way that he would let himself act on his impulses with me was if he got drunk beforehand. I hadn’t known or wanted to see that about him. There was a lot that he had kept hidden from me, the biggest omission was that he was dating a woman.

Rainbow didn’t exude an array of different colours. Instead, she looked at everything with a very calm outlook. There were some in our group that thought she was arrogant. I recognized a little of myself in her and I knew that her attitude wasn’t arrogance. She was trying to protect herself. Rainbow had been drawn in by the flame that Shades put out, but she was being careful.

Despite Shades pressuring her for sex, she refused. She would look at him with a coy glance and give him a little smile as if she were laughing at him internally. When she refused him, he would turn to me. I wondered what Rainbow had seen, what she had dealt with to make her so able to observe the true heart of any matter that was placed before her and speak her mind about it.

Rainbow and I would sit outside waiting for Shades to come back with money, cigarettes or food. He took his ability to provide for us very seriously. Rainbow and I would smoke and look at the world around us, wondering if we ever fit within it.

“You deserve better,” she said to me once.

I shrugged. “I love him,” I told her, knowing that she was referring to Shades. I don’t know what made that love so vital to me, but there it was. It was the first time I had said the word.

Taking my right hand, she traced a finger around its knuckles. “I know it may seem like love, but I’m not sure that Shades is capable of it.” She let my hand go and pulled a cigarette out of the pack. “You deserve someone who loves you as much as you love them.”

“What about you?” I asked.

Now it was turn to shrug. “I know that I love myself,” she said, taking a drag off of a cigarette. “That seems to be enough.”

“Then what is he to you? How can you be with someone you don’t love?”

Rainbow gave me a genuine smile. “Haven’t you ever been with someone you don’t love?”

I thought back to the people I had been before I came out of the closet. I loved them, but not in the way they needed. I thought, too, of the men that I had been attracted to since coming out. They were all unattainable in some way. None of them got too close to me and I’m not sure if it was me keeping them away or their non-ability to have an actual relationship.

“I guess it’s enough for now.” I said.

Nodding, Rainbow blew out a plume of smoke and kissed my cheek. “Well, at least you know that I love you and that’s what really matters.”

I sat there in the warmth of the sunshine and wondered if this was enough. I took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, drawing smoke into my lungs. I pictured the cloud of smoke becoming a wall of thorns, hiding who I had been and who I was going to be. All that mattered was who I was right now and I could tell my own story.