Thursday, 11 February 2016


    Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson has been writing since a young age when he realized he could be writing instead of paying attention in school. Since then, he has created many worlds in which to live his fantasies and live out his dreams. He is a Number One Best Selling Author (He likes to tell people that a lot) and writes in many different genre’s. Jamieson is also an accomplished artist. He works in mixed media, charcoal and pastels. He is also something of an amateur photographer, a poet and graphic designer. He currently lives in Ottawa Ontario Canada with his cat, Tula, who is fearless.

Blurb Skinny

Dancing with the Flame cover

Following the Number One Best Sellers, Talking to the Sky and Talking with the Earth, Dancing with the Flame contains poems that are part memoir and part journey towards self-love. They are Wolf’s attempt to not only find balance but to love all parts of himself, even those that are most difficult to love. They are a testament to the strength of the human spirit. The poems show us that whatever life throws at us, with courage anything is possible. With unflinching honesty, Wolf talks about disease, sexuality, physical disability and the healing power of love.

Excerpt skinny

What I Had Become

 When the New Year began, I looked into the mirror. I saw a reflection of myself from long ago. I was lying on a bed, weak, my whole world changed. I watched as my reflection lifted a hand and beckoned to me.
  “Come on.” He said. I touched a hand to the glass and it was as if there was no glass there. The veil between the present and the past was thin. I stepped through the mirror and found myself in a place that I remembered but fought so hard to forget. It was dark and there was only one small light in the room. Even so, by that light I saw who I used to be lying on the bed, my past self, my other self. He regarded me, and I looked at him. I remembered that day, how the night before the New Year my life had changed forever, never to be the same again. I knew just how he was feeling as I had been him, he had been me. He was weak and disoriented, unable to walk very well at all, his whole world seeming to move around him, unable to keep still. He regarded me with tired eyes, the fear in them so total. He knew that something was wrong.
  “You forgot about me.” He said.
  “You forgot our anniversary.” It was true. I had forgotten. Every year since that day, I always wondered if this would be the year that it happened, the year where I lost control of my body once more. For a while, I lived in fear of December 31st, of who I had been and of what I had become on that day.
  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I did forget. I did forget you.”
  “Why?” He asked.
  “Because I left you behind. Because I’m so much stronger now. So much happier.” He regarded me with a blank expression, the fear increasing in his eyes until they were full of tears.
  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so afraid.”
  “I know,” I said kindly. I sat on the bed beside him and took his hand in my own. It was cool and sweaty and I remembered how warm I’d been, how nothing had felt right, and how my own body had turned against me.
  “You’ll have to be strong,” I said.
  “There is a lot more pain coming, but you’ll have to be stronger than you’ve ever been. Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t know how.”
“You don’t, but you’ll learn. There will come a moment when you’ll want to quit, where you’ll want to give up and head towards the darkness. But I promise you, good times are coming.” He looked at me with such an open expression, one of yearning for something better. I remembered wearing that look, wishing and hoping so fiercely that it was painful.
  “Okay,” he said.
  “Okay.” I heard my partner calling me from the other side of the mirror, his deep voice making the liquid glass move in ripples. I took one last look at who I used to be and patted his hand, leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead.
  “I have to go now.”
“I know you do. Don’t forget me, okay?”
 “I won’t, I promise.” With that, I stood and moved towards the glass. When I stepped through the glass, I left behind what I had been and into what I had become.

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