Jamieson Wolf
Number-one bestselling author
The Wisdom of the Flowers – A Short Story
Here’s my second Pay It Forward 2015 offering. This is a short story I wrote for Heather Garrod.
I just thought of Heather and a dream someone had mentioned to me the other day came to mind. I decided to combine the two plus a twist of my own.
Enjoy!
The Wisdom of the Flowers
Heather believed.
It was as simple as that. She knew in her heart that there was more to the world that we could see with our eyes. She would often see things that others couldn’t, sense things that weren’t physically there. It had always been this way.
It was why she wasn’t particularly surprised to see the woman sitting in her garden.
For Heather, scents were as spiritual as anything else, even more so. There was something about the aromas of certain plants that were able to calm, to ignite or even heal. She had always grown plants and different types of flowers. They were part of the way she got in touch with her spirit.
She had gathered her gardening tools (gloves, trowel and scissors for clipping dead leaves and weeds) and stepped out her back door. She smelled the garden first, that delicious scent of wonder. The air smelled of lilacs and orange blossom and filled her with joy.
It was as she was coming around the back of the house to the garden proper that she saw the woman sitting under a large oak tree in the centre of her garden. This was unusual for two reasons: She had never planted a tree in her garden and her gates had been locked.
Heather approached the woman slowly. She was sitting in a rocking chair and she moved it slowly back and forth. It seemed to be creating a small breeze that blew even more scent towards her. She wasn’t afraid, only curious.
The woman saw her coming closer and smiled broadly. A light came from her, emanating from somewhere within. She waved at Heather. “Come closer dear. It’s all right.”
Heather knew it was, so she walked closer. As she did, the breeze that surrounded the old woman increased. To Heather, it felt as if it were welcoming her. She stood in front of the old woman, the breeze growing stronger. “Who are you?” Heather whispered.
The old woman smiled. “I am called many things. Maiden, mother, crone. The old woman, the nurturer, the princess. I’ve come to answer your questions.”
“I don’t have any.”
“Oh, sure you do. We all do! Where are we going in this life? How will we get there? Will I find love? You humans are a species that always wants to know more. That’s a great thing to have, never lose that curiosity.”
The breeze blew across her face, almost as if it were caressing her cheek. She smelled honeysuckle and iris blossoms. Heather asked the question that was burning on her tongue. “What are you?”
“Oh, to that I can give you a proper answer. I’m a dryad. I am alive only when I am near my body.” She patted the trunk of the oak tree. “I can wander for short periods, but never very far away.”
Heather let out a small breath she had not been aware that she’d been holding in . “How did your tree come to be here?”
“How did any of us come to be here? No one really knows. Science is a great way of explaining magic, don’t you think? But enough gibber jabber. You have questions. Come, have a seat.”
Heather looked down and saw a tree stump where there hadn’t been one before. Rather than sitting on the flowers that had been there before, they now grew around the stump. Heather nodded and sat down, the sun warm on her face.
Sitting this close to her, Heather noticed what she hadn’t before: the old woman’s skin was like the back of the oak tree, her hair like the leaves that grew from it. Her eyes were green like the sap that ran through the tree.
The old woman pulled out a cloth bag from the folds of her dress. “Let’s see what’s in store for you, hey?”
“I’ve had my tarot cards read a few times.”
Shaking her head, the old woman let out a chuckle. “That’s fine dear, but I don’t read the Tarot. I read the flowers instead.”
“You can’t read flowers. They have healing properties, but it’s not like they’re magical.”
“It’s because they have healing properties that makes them magical. You know this, dear. Now, reach into the bag and pull out five petals and we’ll see what’s coming your way, hmmm?”
Nodding, Heather reached into the bag and pulled out a petal. They were white and shaped almost like silver dollars. “I’ve never seen petals like this.”
“That’s because they aren’t petals yet, they have to become. Pull four more and place them in a line on the table.”
“Table? There isn’t one.”
The old woman looked down. “Oh, silly me, hold on a tic.”
She waved her hands and a branch grew out of the ground between them. A leaf began to grow from the end of the branch. It grew larger and, as the leaf settled, it lay on its side and flattened out, making a perfect table top.
Heather had never seen anything like it. She took a breath and drew out four more petals, putting the five of them on the leaf table top. Then she looked up at the old woman. “What do I do now?”
“Well, you turn them over of course. You said you had experience with Tarot cards? This works the same way.”
Heather took a breath and turned over the first petal. There was a shimmer and then colour began to grow from the middle of the petal. As it flowed to the edges, it changed shape. When it was done, there was another little shimmer and the breeze stopped flowing around them, almost as if it was afraid to disturb the petals.
The old woman smiled. “A Begonia petal. That’s a lovely start, wouldn’t you say?”
“What does it mean?”
“Why it stands for rich, hidden treasures that you’ll find on your path through happenstance. It promises something rare and beautiful. Flip the next one.”
Heather did and watched it shimmer and turn from white to a deeper, creamer white. She knew this one. “Calla Lily.”
“Quite right dear. Another beautiful one. It symbolises a well of deep knowledge and intuition. It catches your dreams and holds on to them and speaks of your beauty, both of heart and soul. Draw the next one dear.”
Heather reached for the third petal. When she flipped it over, it turned into a beautiful light purple petal. She knew what these were, too. “Crocus flower. What does this one symbolize?”
“It’s a powerful symbol. Many believe this flower brings about openness, to capturing the goodness in life and all that is part of it. It’s a powerful flower. Draw the next one.”
She reached for the fourth petal and this time, she felt the woosh of magic all the way up her arm. The petal turned a beautiful shade of pink with an outline of yellow. She immediately felt more cheerful upon seeing this and wanted nothing more than to smile.
“The hibiscus.”
“Quite right dear. You see, I knew this wouldn’t be wasted on you with all your knowledge of flowers. Sometimes when people see flowers floating past them in the air, they don’t pay attention to what they could mean. Just because flowers can’t speak doesn’t mean they don’t have a voice.”
“What is this one trying to tell me?”
“It represents joy. Pure happiness fully realized. It’s about your dream realized, every step of the way, seeing beauty in everything and celebrating the small things in life.” She motioned with her hand at the remaining petal. “Turn the last one dear.”
Heather turned it over and watched as turned purple at the tip and white at the end. She would know that smell anywhere. “Freesia.”
“That’s right dear. This is one of my favourite flowers. It is the flower of trust. You are being guided by force of the cosmos on your path and you have to trust that everything is unfolding as it is supposed to. Trust yourself, you already know where you’re going.”
The old woman stood. “Well, my dear, I must be getting back.”
“But what does all this mean? What are the flowers trying to tell me?”
She smiled and it was a warm, beautiful smile. “You’ve had Tarot card readings done before?”
“Yes.”
“Much like Tarot cards, their meaning is up for your interpretation. However, I’d say one thing is clear: we can expect great things from you.”
The old woman reached down and collected the petals. Then she pressed her hands together. When she drew them apart, all five petals hung on a silver chain like charms. “This is for you. So you will never forget the wisdom the flowers have bestowed upon you.”
Taking the chain from the old woman, Heather power emanating from her. “Will I see you again?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Know that I’m watching over you regardless of whether or not you do. You are never alone, child. Know that, too.”
“I will, thank you.”
“Now, perhaps it’s time for you to open your eyes, hmmm? You don’t want to spend all day sleeping in the sunshine do you?”
Heather woke. She was sitting in a deck chair that she didn’t remember moving. It was sitting on the edge of the garden. She did notice one plant she hadn’t before: a small shoot of a tree. Heather was sure if she looked up what kind of tree it was, it would be an oak tree.
Standing to get up, Heather felt something around her neck. She put her hand up and felt what was there. A chain.
Taking it off, she saw that she held a silver chain with five charms dangling from it, each shaped like a different flower petal.
She looked down at the little tree. “Thank you.” She whispered.
Picking up her tools, she set to work weeding the garden, feeling that all was right, or would be, with the world.
The Beautiful Sound of Song – A Short Story
This is my first offering for Pay It Forward 2015. It’s a short story that I’ve written for Pam Chartrand.
Not only is she a wonderful friend, she’s an awesome human being. She also gave me the impetus I needed to go back to Inglewood Hamlet (the town featured in my book of fairy tales, When Love Blooms) once more.
So this is for Pam, with love and gratitude.
The Beautiful Sound of Song
Once upon a time, there was a small country by the name of Inglewood Hamlet.
There were four borders to the country, marked by the cliffs, the fields, the sands and the waters. Inside a tower that was located on the very highest point of the cliffs, there lived a Princess named Pam. One day, Pam’s life changed forever.
When she thought back on it, Pam decided that out of all the moments from the day her life had changed, she would remember the birdsong most of all. It had been a harbinger of the change she had been so desperately wanted. She had thought she was happy with her lot in life, but that was before she had seen the bird.
Pam had woken early, her handmaiden had brought her breakfast on a little silver tray and she had dressed in one of her most luscious gowns: gold brocade with details in silver. It had no petticoats so it fell to the floor. She loved how it would sweep along the ground, almost as if it were whispering to her while she walked.
She had taken a cup of strong tea made from camomile blossoms and ginger root out into the garden. Her handmaiden, a lovely girl by the name of Anna, would have her breakfast ready upon her return. It was always this way.
Every morning, Pam awoke, dressed, went for her walk with a cup of tea and she would look at the wall, wondering what was beyond it. Then she would return to her tower to break her fast and she would read for the rest of the day. It had always been this way.
Being a Princess was an easy job, but frightfully boring. She spent her days in her tower, surrounded by a wall which was almost as high, with only Anna for company. Anna was a kind soul and good company, but she longed for her Prince. That was the whole point of the Princess gig, after all.
Her job was simple: amuse herself until her Prince came along. That was all well and good, but in her experience (which was albeit very limited) most men needed to be given direction. She had lived in her wall encased tower for forty years. She was now well past the accepted age for a Princess, but she didn’t care. She still wore her small tiara, despite the fact that she should be wearing a crown and ruling by now.
The country of Inglewood Hamlet was a small country that did well, even without a ruler. They had had a King and Queen and a Prince before, but they had all disappeared. Pam was the only one left in the royal line to rule and her country didn’t need her. So not only was she imprisoned in the tower, when she got free, she would merely be a figurehead, nothing more.
It was as these thoughts ran around inside her head that she herd birdsong. She stopped, looking for it. Though she had trees and a garden inside the walls of her tower, they were too high for most birds. It had been years since she had seen any wildlife. The wall was higher than any bird was willing to fly, higher than any squirrel or chipmunk was willing to climb, so there were no animals in her walled tower garden.
That’s why even the sound of birdsong was alarming. She looked around and finally located the bird, a male blue jay. He stood on the edge of the tower wall, serenading her with song. She stood there with her eyes closed, the tea in her hand forgotten, and just listened to the beautiful sound of song.
Her eyes snapped open when the song stopped. The blue jay was still there, but something was happening to him. A light started glowing from his feathers, as if he were made of the sun itself. The glow intensified until he a ball of light, brighter than the sun itself. She shielded her eyes but kept looking. Pam had never seen anything so beautiful.
With a soft pop, the light disappeared, but in its place was a man.
He sat on the edge of the wall, clothed in leather breeches and a poet’s shirt, both blue in colour. She put he hand down and lay the teacup on the ground. Pam could only stare at him. He had a strong chin with soft layer of stubble upon it and long dark hair that hung to his shoulders. He had blue eyes that were so clear and so bright, they seemed to be looking right into her.
“Pray, what did you do with the bird, sir?”
“Oh, he’s right here. Why don’t you come up and fly with me?”
She laughed even as the sound of his voice stirred something in her. “I have no wings. Why don’t you come down?”
“Would that I could, dear lady. I would break my legs if I jumped from here and the wall is too tall to fly down into, I would never be able to fly out again. There is a magic that prevents this, shimmering over the top of the tower.”
“Fly? You were the bird that sang so sweetly?”
“Yes.”
“Then are you a shape shifter?”
He cocked his head to the right as if thinking of how to respond. “Does it matter?”
Pam thought about it for a moment. “No, just sing for me again. It was so beautiful.”
“Come up here and I shall. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Blushing, Pam asked him: “What do they call you?”
“I am Gregory. I’ve heard the maiden you live with call you Pamela.”
“Pam, please, there’s no need for ceremony here. If you’ve watched us, why are you only showing yourself now?”
“I was afraid, dear lady. There are not many who would have me as I am. I was afraid of showing myself to your maiden.”
“Ann would have loved to hear you sing. Are you sure you cannot come down here?”
“No lady, look.” He picked up a stone that sat on the walls edge and threw it at the opening at the top of the tower. Something sparked in the sky and it was gone. Then the sky shimmered as if made of water. “It is as I’ve said, there is a barrier.”
“So you mean to tell me that this is the reason no Prince has come to my aid?”
“Why do you need the help of a Prince? You merely have to help yourself to break free of this life and live the life you want.”
“How am I to get up there?” Pam asked. “It’s so high, you ask the impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible if you believe. You have to believe, Pam. Grow wings and come fly with me.”
“It’s that simple?”
“Yes. You just have to believe.”
“There must be more to it than that.”
Gregory shook his head. “You are talking to a shape shifter, a being once thought to be mythical yet here I am talking to you. Come on Pam, believe.”
The third time he said the word, a breeze came down to run its fingers along Pam’s skin and through her hair. She shivered with wanting and closed her eyes, wishing that she could find a way to lift herself up into the air, that she could find a way to sit beside Gregory.
She wished with every fibre of her being but it was not to be. She was saddened that she would not get her happily ever after.
“Pam, open your eyes.”
Pam did so, and nearly screamed: she was floating off the ground and a curious light was emanating from her skin. “What magic is this?”
“You’re just like me, Pam.”
“No, I can’t be.”
“You’re unique and beautiful. Grow your wings. Believe in yourself.”
Pam did the only thing she could do: she closed her eyes and did as Gregory told her. She took in a deep breath, taking in the scent of the breeze that had so enticed her. She took in another breath and it was as if her blood had become the air itself.
Her whole body had become lighter. She reached out to touch something, anything, and realized that she didn’t have fingers. Opening her eyes, she saw that she had wings. It was as if she was floating on a cloud of light, so bright was the light that emanated from her.
When she reached the top of the wall, she slid through the layer of magic that was there as if it was water. She felt it slide along her skin and then a hand grabbed hers. Gregory looked into her eyes. “I won’t let your fall. I won’t ever let go of you.”
“Nor I. I’m yours for life, if you’ll have me.”
Gregory pulled her closer to him and Pam’s body swooned with need for him. “That’s a good thing as blue jays mate for life.”
There was a blinding flash of light and a blue jay danced in the air in front of her. It pulled at her hair playfully and sang at her. Pam laughed and let the breeze run through her body until she glowed briefly bright and then transformed.
Pam let out a song of her own. Finally, she knew freedom. She finally knew love. Gregory let out another burst of birdsong and Pam let out her own as she followed him through the air and towards her future.
So the story goes…
Seeing Into Both Worlds – A Poem
I see her
coming towards me.
She is walking
with a cane
but solders onward,
every step with
purpose. She looks
up and sees
me and I
feel as if
she is taking
stock of what
I’m made of.
She stops in
front of me
and we regard
each other for
a moment. Then
she speaks, in
a voice that
has known the
raspy embrace of
too many cigarettes.
“Look at me.”
She says and
I do, I
am. She moves
her hand upward
and snaps her
fingers at me.
“I said, look at me.”
I’ve experienced this
before. I sigh.
“I am looking at you. I only use one eye at a time to focus on people.”
“Is that a medical condition?”
“No, I was born this way.”
She nods as
if this confirms
her thoughts.
“I thought so. You see into both worlds, then.”
I’m taken aback
by her words.
“What do you mean?”
“You use one eye at a time, right? What is the other eye looking at when this eye is focusing on me?”
“It widens my field of vision. I can look ahead of me and beside me.”
“So you travel the plains of both worlds.”
I shrug, and
try to explain.
“No, it was just a lazy eye that was never corrected.”
“Nor should it. You haven’t seen all you have yet to see. Do you see goodness or duplicity in others, just by looking at them?”
I shrugged again.
“I just go with my gut reaction. “
She waved a
hand as if
waving my words
away from her.
“You have yet to see, then, but you will. You will.”
She put a
finger to my
chest and pressed.
She looked me
in the eyes,
first the right
one and then
the left one.
“You carry light with you. Don’t give it to those that don’t deserve it.”
So saying, she
walked on past
me. I watched
her walk away
for a moment
until a group
of people passed
in front of
her. When they
had moved out
of the way,
I looked for
her, but she
was already gone.
The Light Inside of Us – A Poem
Even as a
writer, I am
often at a
loss for words.
When I look
into your beautiful
eyes and see
myself reflected from
within, I tell you
that I’m grateful
for your love
and your kindness,
though that only
comes close. When
you take my
hand and the
simple gesture makes
me feel more
whole than I
have ever been,
I tell you
that I’m honoured
by your presence
in my life,
but the words
don’t described everything
I’m feeling. When
you tell me
that you love
me, I tell you
I love you
in return, but
trying to fit
everything into those
three words seems
impossible. Now, as
we embark on
building a life
together, joining our
lives into one, I
try to express
how thrilled I
am, how happy
you make me,
how you make
me a better
man. I can
only hope that
you know this,
that you can
feel the words
I want to
say but can
find no breath
large enough to
hold them. I
know that the
emotions I can’t
find the right
words for thrum
within my body,
making it vibrate
with light. I
can only hope
that when I
take your hand,
and put it
to my heart,
you can feel
the vibrations of
words not spoken
and that you
know their meaning.
If I am
ever lost, I
know that all
you will have
to do is
follow the light
that you create
within me and
I will be
guided by the
light I create
inside of you.
Walking the Walk
Last year, I did what I thought to be impossible. I walked the 3KM walk for Multiple Sclerosis.
I had signed up and didn’t really have any idea what I was going to do. I had just stopped walking with my cane but was still shaky on my feet. I walked but didn’t know if I could walk 3KM all in one go.
My friend Julie helped me get ready. Instead of sitting around on our breaks at work, we would go out for walks. I walked to and from work and then twice a day at work. Julie had me calculate how much I walked and add it all up.
According to Google, I walked about 4 to 5KM per day. However, as I pointed out to Julie, I hadn’t done three kilometers all at once. It was split up all throughout the day.
On April 27th, 2014, I embarked on a walk that would change me. I walked with a whole team of people. We had raise $595 towards MS research and were walking for a cause. Mine and everyone else that was affected by MS.
It was the first time I had ever taken part in something like this and even up until the very end, I wasn’t sure I could do it. I had never done anything like the walk, but I had to try. I wanted to prove to myself I could do it.
And I did. We ended up finishing the 3KM walk in 59 minutes and 37 seconds. It took us just under an hour to walk 3KM. There was only one moment where I felt as if I had to stop, but I kept going. I proved to myself I could do it, I could do anything I set my mind to.
This year, my team and I are walking the 5KM walk. Hey, got to reach and continue to grow, right?
I can’t wait to take part in the MS Walk again. Won’t you walk with me? Here’s the info about the walk:
http://mssoc.convio.net/site/TR?fr_id=4250&pg=entry&s_locale=en_ca
You can sign up to be part of my team, The Wolf Pack, here:
http://mssoc.convio.net/site/TR/Walk/OntarioDivision?team_id=61623&pg=team&fr_id=4250
If you can’t walk with me, would you consider donating? Every penny earned helps to fund MS research and finding a cure. You can donate here:
Even if you’re just cheering me on, thanks. It means the world to me and I can’t wait to lace up and get Walking!
Buy Little Yellow Magnet from Amazon and Kobo!
Jamieson Wolf has written a compelling story about navigating multiple sclerosis and cerebral palsy. His story will touch your heart, make you cry, then laugh, and inspire you. A touching memoir with a bit of magic…and tarot! ~ Theresa Reed, author of The Tarot Coloring Book
Jamieson Wolf 