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Posted on April 2, 2018 by Jamieson Wolf

I had been climbing for what seemed like days.
The mountain had seemed small at first, but it grew continually larger with each step I took along its steep terrain. It took me days to reach the top of the mountain, but it felt like it had taken me years. The climb had been gruelling and difficult, but now I was here, at the top of the mountain. I looked down at the world around me.
It seemed impossibly large, as if it could go on forever. That thought frightened me. I thought of how much further I had to go, of the downward climb that I had to make, and I was filled with a fear that took all the strength from my body. I slumped against a tree that was close by and smelled the scent of pine.
I closed my eyes and prayed. I don’t know who I prayed to, only that it was a reverent prayer, one filled with promises that I didn’t know if I could keep. After the immense climb, I wanted my journey to be over.
I heard someone nearby clear their throat. I opened my eyes and looked to where I had heard the sound. I saw a woman. She had bright red and gold hair that framed her face and brilliant brown eyes that were speckled through with more gold. She beckons me over with a cheerful wave of her hand.
I nodded to show that I had seen her. I wondered where she had come from. There had been no woman when I had first reached the top of the mountain and no forest either, yet there were trees that spread around her and beyond her.
When I approached her, the very air around her seemed to shimmer.
She looked up at me and the first thing I see is her eyes. When the light hits them, they seemed to shimmer like spun gold. I sense incredible warmth coming from her.
“Hiya!” She said. She motions for me to sit down.
When I do, I am entranced by different scents and smells. I am lulled in by lavender and I smell other scents like lemon and peppermint.
I take another look around us and I can make out the outline of trees, stretching high into the clouds. I can see the sunlight is coloured green where it filters itself through the leaves. I can see plains in the distance filled with flowers that lend more scentsations: rose and jasmine and neroli.
“I had no idea there was a forest at the top of this mountain.”
She lets out a laugh that’s like music. “Well of course you didn’t. You had to climb to the top first, didn’t you? If you could see the forest from down below, would that have brought you joy? Or would you have not climbed this mountain?”
“I probably wouldn’t have climbed it at all.” I said.
“Exactly. Life is like that sometimes. We take on that which is hard to do, but the reward at the end of it all if so much more than we thought possible. Don’t you agree?”
I nodded my head noncommittedly. I looked away for a moment, drawn by the breeze moving the flowers that surrounded us. I was sure they had not been there before. Then I looked back at the woman, she was handing me a cup of tea. It smelled of cinnamon, cloves and oranges. I closed my eyes and breathed it in.
“What is your name?” I asked her.
She took a moment to think of an answer, taking time to take a sip of her tea. “I am called many things. For today, you can call me Rachael.”
“Do you have more than one name?” I asked her.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
My eyes were drawn upward to one of the trees. I saw birds with red feathers. A flock of cardinals were sitting in the branches where there had been none before. They were chirping and singing to us. The melody was very soft and lilting.
“Why does this land keep changing? There was not supposed to be a forest here, nor grass or flowers or birds…” I said.
“I don’t know, Angel.” Rachael gave me a kind smile. “Who knows why? But let’s enjoy it while we’re here. I don’t often get to just sit and relax, so this is lovely!”
Rachael smiled at me again and I felt only felt joy and warmth from her. A soft wind blew around us and citrus notes filled the air, lemon again with orange and grapefruit. It made me feel as if I was smelling sunshine.
“So why are we here?” I asked her.
“Well, does there need to be a reason?” She shrugged. “Why did you climb the mountain?”
I shrugged. “Because I had to. It was on my path where I needed to go. I didn’t know there would be a mountain in the middle of my path but I had to climb it.”
“Did you really have to? Or was there another way you could have taken?”
I thought about it. “I could have just gone around the mountain, but then I would not be able to see all of this.” I turned and motioned to the world far below me. “I would not have been able to see the world in this way.”
She put down her tea cup and joined her hand together. “You see? You did not know the reason when you started climbing, but you learned something about yourself. Life is often like that, teaching us lessons when we least expect it.”
I put down my own cup and watched as grass sprouted where our tea cups had been. From these two spouts of grass, more grass grew and soon, the whole forest floor was covered in an emerald green blanket. It was soft and cool as I ran my hands through the blades of grass.
“I don’t know how to move forward.” I said. “I’m afraid of climbing higher.”
Rachael gave me a sage look. “Oh, I don’t sense fear in you. Only immense courage and perseverance.”
I shook my head. “Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it.”
Rachael held out a hand and I took it. A plume of warmth ran up my arm at her touch. “Sometimes, life gets in the way of the good stuff. In every challenge, there is wisdom if we choose to see it.”
“What’s the wisdom in climbing to the top of a mountain?” I asked. “The climb nearly killed me. It took everything from me.”
“Well yes, but you did climb it. You didn’t give up or lose faith in yourself! And now you can look back at everything you’ve accomplished. Isn’t that the most wonderful thing ever?”
I sat there in the midst of a forest that shouldn’t be, talking to a woman that should not be here and reflected on what she said. If I had not climbed the mountain, I would not be experiencing this moment of joy and beauty. If I hadn’t climbed the mountain, I would not be seeing the world in a different way.
I gave her hand a squeeze. “Thank you.” I heard music in the distance and something about it called to me. “What’s over there?” I asked, making a vague gesture beyond the forest.
Rachael gave me a kind look and I was moved by how beautiful she was. “I don’t know. But, much like the mountain you’ve climbed, won’t it be an adventure to find out?”
I nodded.
“You have to find the joy in your life. What do you smell when you think of happiness? What does your idea of joy smell like? What does it sound like to you?”
I didn’t have to think about it. “I smell the scent of ink and paper. I can hear the sound of a pen dancing across the paper. That is joy to me.”
“Then go out into the world and find something to write about, won’t you?” She stood and helped me to my feet. “If that’s your joy, you have to share it with the world. Don’t keep those scents, those words, bottled up. You have to let them out to dance across the page.”
She walked with me to the edge of the forest. I walked beside her and when I broke through the trees, I was expecting to see the mountain that I had to climb down, the rocky terrain that I would have to scale to continue on my path forwards.
What I saw instead took my breath away. Instead of a rocky terrain, there were wide open fields of grass, dotted with trees and more flowers. Here was where the scent of jasmine, neroli and roses had come from. The meadow was a riot of colour.
I turned to Rachael, one of my eyebrows raised in a question I didn’t have the words to ask.
Rachael only smiled. “Sometimes the path forward is not the one we envision for ourselves, but the one that we find instead. Would you agree?”
I nodded.
“Good. Now, get going. Those stories won’t write themselves and you have so much more to see.” She touched a hand to my face and I was filled with warmth from the light of her.
I walked on a little ways, but looked back to where Rachael had been.
There was only a flower, a tall rose, standing in the sunshine. I turned away and, as I walked forwards, I wondered if the scent of roses had come from her.
Posted on March 22, 2018 by Jamieson Wolf
When I awoke,
my body felt
as if it had been broken
and sewn back together,
only the pieces of my body
weren’t all mine.
My body was re-created,
three pieces came together
to make a whole.
They whispered their names,
these smoky others,
and I could hear them speaking
inside of me.
When I stood,
I had no control
over my body.
I had no concept
of movement
but I had an idea
of what it was supposed to be.
I stumbled around,
attempting to find my way
through the shadows,
trying to regain some control.
I shuffled out into the light,
and was blinded by it,
as if there were needles or knives
within the sunshine.
As I looked away from the sun,
I beheld a rose,
its petals soft and as red as blood.
I tore it from the ground,
for I had never seen anything
quite as beautiful.
I wanted it with me,
to remind me of what beauty was.
My blood flowed from where
the thorns had dug
into my skin, making the petals
redder, more vibrant,
as if they were made of rubies.
I left a trail of blood
wherever I walked.
I struggled onward,
each step painful
and filled with glass,
each step precarious,
as if I were walking
on a tightrope.
My body was a patchwork quilt,
sewn together like a ragdoll.
It tried to fight me
with every movement,
ever single step,
but still I kept going.
I had begun to draw crowds of people.
They looked at me with pity:
“Oh, poor dear. Are you all alone? Well, who would want you?”
They looked at me with hate:
“Stay the fuck home if you want to drink or get high.”
They looked at me with curiosity:
“Are there others like you? Do you live in a commune?”
They looked at me with derision:
“You’re so pathetic. Are you sure you’re really sick?”
I would try to speak to them,
to emote with words,
but my borrowed tongue
merely mumbled and tripped
as I tried to shape the syllables
that I used to know.
Still I walked on,
climbing the flat mountain
that the world had become.
I knew no other way.
Eventually,
I saw a light in the distance.
As I moved towards it,
my steps became surer.
As I walked on,
the flat mountain became more manageable
and I felt less and less like I was made of puzzle pieces
held together by thread.
The pieces had fused together
to form a whole.
When I finally came upon the reason for that light,
I could only stop and stare.
It was a man of breathtaking beauty.
His inner spirit shone
and this was the light that I saw.
When he looked at me,
I didn’t feel like a monster.
When he looked at me,
I felt beautiful
and the scars that ran all over my body
ceased to matter.
When he looked at me,
I knew that he really saw who I was.
I did the only thing I could do:
I held out my rose,
and my heart to him.
Inside of me,
my own light began grow,
starting as a seed
that would soon fill me with brightness.
He moved towards me and
I was unafraid.
I was ready for love.
When we kissed
and he took me into his arms,
the ground below us began
to rumble softly,
as if the earth itself was humming.
Roses bloomed around us and
the sky above us was filled
with stars.
Posted on March 20, 2018 by Jamieson Wolf
When she looked
at me, all
I saw were
eyes that were
filled with pity.
The tears fell
from her eyes
and slid along
her cheeks, looking
like jewels made
from her sadness.
She passed the
jewels to me,
putting her tears
into my cupped
hands. I looked
at them, shining
so brightly yet
so heavy with
despair. I looked
back at her
and saw no understanding
of what I
endured, only sadness.
I said:
“I do not have to take on your emotions.”
I let the
jewels fall from
my hands and
watched as they
floated in the
air like bubbles
filled with rainbows.
“I do not have to own your sadness.”
I said.
I watched as
the jewels began
to open in
the air, as
if they were
flowers or little
bits of joy.
Soon, the room
was filled not
with the luminosity
of tears, but
instead the bright
light of joy.
Posted on March 9, 2018 by Jamieson Wolf
He could see to the edge of the earth and back. The sky itself became his canvass. He watched the cosmos put on their light show for him. It was always different, punctuated by comets and shooting stars, the sky changing from a dusky plum colour to a sateen black.
From his vantage point, he saw everything. He had made his home at the top of a fire watch tower. That tower was at the top of a mountain. Alexander saw everything above and below. Every so often, he saw a flare of orange and red plumes fill the sky, as if the night itself had thrown off its black cloak to reveal the fiery feathers underneath. He called in those, speaking to the people who would put the fires out.
That was his life: wake, look out at the world and watch to see if part of it was erupting. He was deep within the trees of the forest so when the wind blew, it was as if the trees were whispering to him. In a way, he was never alone, but he was very lonely. He filled up his evenings with old movies. The fire watch tower had a small black and white television and a pile of old VHS cassettes. He did have a few books, but at night, when the darkness was total, he liked to have the sound of another voice.
He had been watching one movie in particular over and over again. It was an old movie from 1988 called Running on Empty. River Phoenix was in it and he was gorgeous. Alexander knew he needed to get laid if he was lusting after a guy from thirty years ago.
Just like the stars that changed in the blink an eye, so does life. It was a perfectly ordinary day. There was nothing to mark it as different. Alexander was just about to climb up to the top of the tower with some supplies when he heard a voice behind him. “Hey, Alexander?”
Turning, Alexander felt the world around him fall away. Coming towards him, his footsteps whispering like the leaves in the wind, was Troy. His Troy, his only. His everything. Alexander wondered if it was possible for a heart to stop beating when someone left and start anew when that person returned.
There were so many things that Alexander wanted to say. Instead he said, “What are you doing here?” What he wanted to say was: Where have you been? Why did you leave? How did you get back here? How did you find me?
Alexander watched Troy as Troy came closer to him, saw brilliance of his green eyes flash in the sun, saw the stubble on his chin and his gorgeous lips. Then Troy was there, and he was kissing Alexander. He had dreamed of Troy, had yearned for him, so it didn’t occur to push Troy away from him.
Troy still carried the same scent, sandalwood and something sweet, like someone had dusted his skin with sugar and cinnamon. Alexander slowly broke the kiss. “You might as well come up. You don’t want to be out here at night.”
Alexander turned away from Troy and began climbing up the ladder of the watchtower. He felt the moment when Troy began climbing. He could feel his vibrations in the ladder. As Alexander climbed, he wondered how he could still want him as if it were yesterday, why his heart held onto the emotions that only Troy could awake in him?
All too soon, Alexander was at the top. His body was humming, and a vibration seemed to come from his skin. It wanted to be touched again. He wanted to be touched again. Then Troy was there, his hair shining like spun gold in a riot of curls.
They both stood looking at each other, taking in the measure of the other man. Alexander wanted to run to him, to crush his body into Troy’s. Instead, he asked, “Why are you here?”
Troy ran a hand through his hair and Alexander was almost undone. That gesture was so familiar to him. Troy only did it when he was nervous. “I missed you.”
“That’s it?”
“What else do you want me to say? That the moment I left you, I wanted to come back? That I dream of you at night and now visions of you have started to seep into the daylight hours?”
Alexander was quiet. Then he spoke. “Why did you leave me?”
“I wanted more than this.” Troy motioned to the watch tower. “I wanted to live.”
“Whereas you were more than enough for me because I was only truly alive with you.”
Troy came a little closer. The air between them started to spark. “I saw flames in the sky and all I could think of was you. All I want is you.” He touched Alexander’s face. “Please.”
It was the please that undid Alexander. He kissed him again, trying to say everything that had yet to be said, everything he had wanted to say, with that kiss. He knew that there was more to talk about but right now, there was only Troy.
Something clicked within him, as if a wall had dropped. His skin was warm, and he felt a whoosh of air around him. He pulled away from the kiss and looked around him. All he saw was Troy and a riot of colour. At first, he thought it was fire, but as Troy and Alexander reached out to touch the plumes, they did not burn.
“It’s the colour of our love.” Troy said.
Alexander stared at the gold, yellow and orange plumage that surrounded them, seeming to move with their heart beats, and realized: it hadn’t been fires he had been seeing: it was the love between two people blooming into existence.
Holding Troy close, he looked out into the night sky as the world around them became a riot of colour.
Posted on March 4, 2018 by Jamieson Wolf
My body is built from
walls of bone.
They have been covered
with wallpaper
in a soft coloured hue.
There are hardwood floors
that run throughout the house.
They’ve suffered some water damage
and have become warped over time,
so walking might be a little tipsy.
There are photos that hang
upon the walls
and there are shelves
covered with nicknacks.
Each one of them tell a story,
a memory.
If you put them all in a line,
they will show you the path
my body has been on.
There are large picture windows
that let in the most gorgeous
amount of light
and they make the furniture,
careworn and old,
look brand new.
There is a washroom
that is covered in black and white tile
that is cracked in a few places.
There is an old clawfoot bathtub
big enough to fall asleep;
there is a book on the tiled floor,
half read.
If you go to the topmost floor,
as high as you can go,
you will find a library there,
a massive room filled to the brim
with towers of books.
The attic seems to go on forever,
filled with books I have read
and books that I have written.
The air smells musty
and is full of the scent of paper.
As I take in the house,
every nook and cranny,
all the cracks and holes,
the doors that don’t quite close,
or the faucet that always drips,
I am filled only with love.
As the sun falls along the wonky floorboards,
filling the house with light,
I realise that I am finally
at home in my body.
I am finally at home
in me.

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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
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