Adventures in Scrying

                I guess it was nearly ten years ago…  I had been living in another state but would be returning to my home in North Carolina in a few months.  While there, I had sought out the local pagan stores and happened upon a Witchcraft 101 class, which seemed an excellent opportunity to learn, meet like-minded practitioners, and feel like I was progressing in the Craft, even though I was far from home and my Coven.

                I had been practicing for nearly a decade at that point, but had never taken a group class and found the company delightful.   The course was nearly a year, and I was only able to attend about half of it, but I enjoyed it incredibly.  It lifted my spirits at a time when I was very, very down, and the various assignments helped me focus on magical possibilities throughout the week, rather than the homesickness deep in my heart.

                 Even on the first night, I learned so much!!  We met in an upstairs classroom of a large pagan store.  The walls were a simple white, decorated with metal tea-light sconces.  My current Craft room, though not white, is similarly lit as I tried to capture the feel of those winter evenings in that upstairs classroom.  The shop-owners had set long tables against the walls, leaving the center free for a circle of chairs, and, on some nights, altars and a Ritual space.

                That night, the center space held a circle of chairs, and after introductions to the instructor, the class objectives, and each other, we were invited to explore the rest of the room.  Set up on the tables were all variety of scrying tools in “stations.”  Each class member was expected to explore each type of tool, and, the instructor explained, some will work better than others.  The point was to try each out, get a feel for how they work, and also identify the methods that work best for each of us.  To ensure we all got to try each one, our explorations were timed, and we shifted en masse from one station to the next.

                The instructor provided an example of using a pendulum.  She held it in one hand and dangled it over the open palm of her other hand.  “Show me your yes,” she spoke out loud, and the pendulum began to swing, hesitant at first.  “Stronger,” she commanded, and pendulum swung harder.  She stilled it.  “Show me your no,” and the pendulum swung along the opposite axis.  Now she could ask it a yes/no question, confident in the answer.

                She encouraged us to explore several of the pendulums available—she had a variety there, in wood, metal and stone.  She informed us that we would find that some materials would work better than others, and after our experiences tonight, we would have a sense of the pendulums that work best for us.

                I tried quite a few pendulums that night, asking each to show me its yes and no, and then testing its feel on various questions.  I learned that stone pendulums work best for me, then metal, then wood.  I can certainly use a wooden pendulum in a pinch, but the wood doesn’t feel alive in my hands and the pendulums swing slowly, as though holding themselves back.  I discovered this about my pendulum work in the candle-lit classroom, that night, but have had it reinforced in several encounters since. 

                I find it odd, honestly, because I love working with wood.  I love the feel of it, the life of it, and wooden objects hold tremendous beauty for me.  I had assumed the wood pendulums would be my first preference. 

                I am reminded of a recent Mead Day celebration where I encountered a vendor of wooden objects.  He had wands and brooms, rune tiles and pendulums, among many other beautiful pieces.  I picked up pendulum after pendulum, trying nearly every one.  “Show me your yes…”  “Show me your no…”  “Are you the pendulum for me?”  And always, piece after piece, it swung no.

                That night back at the class, I tried several stone and metal pendulums.  I am also drawn to metals, and once I realized the wood and I were not a strong match, I assumed the metal pendulums would be for me.  The reaction was certainly stronger, but the stone pendulums swung strongest—vehement, quick, and confident in their answers. 

                And I had my answer.  It would be stone pendulums for me.  And this has remained the case.

                We also went to other scrying stations.  A crystal ball, a scrying mirror, smoke, water… 

                For me, the crystal ball and the scrying mirror were the least successful.  The instructions, for those who don’t know, are to set the instrument in the light such that no clear images are present, as they will distract you.  The light should play through the ball or into the mirror without clear reflections.  The user softens her focus and then allows the images to take shape, listening to one’s intuition during the process.

                These methods, similar in their approach, afford me no help in the scrying itself.  For me, the light doesn’t move, images never appear, and my intuition with these tools feels non-existent.   

                But set me in front of smoke or a water bowl, and I’m good to go!

                To use smoke, it helps to have a lit candle creating a current in the air as well as light to see the images form in the smoke.  And as with all things magical, your intuition is a powerful tool.  That night, I lit the incense stick from the candle, as instructed, and watched the smoke twist and curl.  Images formed and poofed away, creating a rich visual vocabulary for my intuition and subconscious to interpret.  Clear messages formed in the smoke in answer to my questions.

                Next I moved on to the water bowl.  A black bowl, also set with a soft light source nearby, and several small vials of essential oils sat on the table.  The instructor had suggested we use the drops of oil to create shapes on the water, blowing gently to disrupt the mirror-like surface.  This sounded better to me than just looking at the glass-like water, since that would not likely be any more successful than the mirror or the crystal ball.  Those who excel at using the mirror, though, could use a water-filled bowl similarly.

                I chose, though, the oil method, and gently blew my energy onto the water, tapping a few drops of oil onto the surface.  Intense, intuitive images jumped in front of me.  A hare, a Greek goddess, a temple…  The oil was alive with roiling scenes as I stared intently.  The images came so quickly and with so much energy, I knew they were special – more important, if you will, than the images from other methods.  I committed as many as I could to memory and later that night emailed my Shaman for help with the interpretation.

                Turns out the images echoed scenes from his latest journey on my behalf.  We talked and wrote about it quite a bit in the coming weeks as the imagery from several sources coalesced into a powerful message.

                Until recently, that night in that classroom was the only time I spent significant energy scrying.  Each Samhain I have made my tools available to the practitioners joining my Ritual, and typically I gaze longingly into my scrying mirror—a treasured gift from my bestie-bestest friend—hoping it will share its power with me.  However, no powerful messages have made themselves known.

                So we can fast forward now to the Pagan Pride Festival almost a year ago; a friend walked with me from vendor to vendor, as we enjoyed the Magical energy and absorbed the vibrations of the marketplace.  We came across a jeweler selling, among other things, pendulums.  I showed my friend what I had been taught in the class, many years ago.  “Show me your yes…”  We tried several, and we each found pendulums that matched our energy;  a quick exchange of non-magical funds, and the pendulums were ours.

                One of the last times I wrote in this blog was that weekend.  Life took yet another unexpected turn shortly after that, and a huge negative wind blew through my house.  Its force was great enough that I wondered whether my life would be permanently changed as a result.  In the midst of this terrifying experience, I saw my new pendulum resting in its tiny cloth bag on my desk.  I grabbed it, with the chaotic energy flying all around me—I felt just like the depiction in the movies where the wind is whipping inside and lights and shadows are flying around the room.  None of this was literal truth, but the energies in the house felt that way.  I grabbed the pendulum and followed the steps I’d been taught.  “Show me your yes…”  I asked it if this was a permanent thing, would my life be forever changed by these forces?  “No” was the clear answer.

                “So this is just temporary?  Just right now?”  “Yes” was the clear answer.

                I straightened, feeling more powerful than I had in a long time.  No matter how hard it got, these would not be permanent injuries.  I would not only get through this, but I would be unscathed.  I braced myself for the storm, walked back into the chaotic space, and rode it out.

                True to the Universe’s word, the energies of that night were the culmination of a building process, not the beginning.  The next morning brought a calm clarity, and those energies never returned.

                In my Samhain blog a few weeks later, I wrote how I intended to use my new pendulum for scrying on that powerful night.  What I never got a chance to say was that when I went to do so, I found the pendulum broken.  The chain, which was fully intact when I used it and slid it back into its bag, was disconnected.  Neither link – the one connected to the bob, nor the one on the end of the chain itself—was bent.  I found no bent link inside the bag.  The pendulum chain was simply dissected.

                I mentioned it to a friend, in the context of fixing it, and she was quick to correct me.  Obviously, the pendulum had served its magical purpose.  I agreed, and the pendulum will not be repaired.

                So things have calmed considerably since those days.  We had another serious storm hit in the spring, totally unrelated to the first.  During that time, it was the work of my Shaman and my consultation with Tarot cards that reassured me.

                As things return to normal, I found myself in a pagan store again, staring at a display of pendulums.  It was the day after Mead Day when the wooden pendulums had reminded me I needed one but then rejected me one by one.  I ignored the wooden pendulums in this particular display, and in fact, the metal ones as well, remembering the lessons of that first night of the class. 

I picked up first a pendulum with a pointed crystal bob, with beautiful striations.  “Show me your yes…”  It said it was indeed an acceptable pendulum for me.  I tried several others, several of which said “no,” and some which said yes but with less energy.  Then I saw a beautiful pendulum—the bob was a circular white stone veined with brilliant black lines.  The top, where it joined the chain, and the bottom, where it came to a point, were metal.  The chain had a rainbow of chakra stones up its length.  When I asked if it was the pendulum for me, it gave me a whole-hearted, enthusiastic “yes!”   I eyed the price tag.  “I’m SO SORRY!” I whispered sheepishly to the beautiful pendulum.  “You are not the pendulum for me,” and I carefully, respectfully, and apologetically fastened it back to the display.  Next to it, though, was a similar design, with a bright blue stone, and no stones along the chain.  Much more affordable, I pulled it down, asked it if it would be mine, and it said yes.

                At home, I considered the role of a pendulum for me.  My husband is starting a new business, and I am toying with a business idea as well.  I have also, as you can plainly see, neglected my writing in the last year. 

                I cleared a section of table in my home and set up three lines, intersecting in the middle.  One I deemed BOOK, one I deemed BUSINESS, and one I deemed HUSBAND.  I asked, “will the second income in our family come from my book, my business, or my husband?”  The pendulum clearly showed “husband.”  

                I then asked it yes/no questions to follow up, asking it first to show me the yes.  I asked if starting my new business would make me happy.  It said no.  I asked if writing my book would make me happy.  It said yes.

                And so, here I sit—trying to get the writing energies flowing again after a year of significant trials and storms.

                Yesterday I downloaded and began reading the latest book in a mystery series by Bailey Cates.  The magically inclined, fairly simple fictions have been a source of great pleasure these last few months and leave me yearning for magic.   I looked around the house.  The full moon hung invitingly, the living room was cleaned up and straightened, and I could feel the powerful energies abounding.

                I pulled out my scrying mirror.  I lit silver and gold candles, chanted briefly for grounding and safely, and stared with a soft focus.  The scrying mirror blurred in front of me, creating a perfect stage for images.  My eyes felt like they do when you stare at the 3-D prints that were so popular at the malls a decade or so ago.  I knew the messages would start coming.  I could feel them, right at the surface.

                Ummm…  remember I said the scrying mirror and I don’t get along?  I got nuthin.

                I stared for several minutes.  The black surface had turned gray in preparation.  The images were there, I knew it.  But nothing appeared.

                Time for Plan B.  I lit an incense stick and held it in front of the candle.  I rhythmically jiggled the incense, causing the smoke to dance and jump.  The air current in my living room sent the smoke to the right, in front of the gold/God candle.  At first I felt the dull sense of disconnection from the energies, in spite of the simultaneous feeling that they danced all around me.  Soon though, I was in the smoke.  The first images just looked like writing, and I assumed the message was that yes, there is a message.  I later realized this was more likely referring to my writing, a follow-up of the earlier message from the pendulum.

                Then the images came—a woman dancing, an elk, a snake, a tree, and image after image of a woman in an ecstatic dance.  A clear smoke ring formed and then broke sharply in one spot, with my intuition that a binding force had been broken.

After a few minutes, the smoke stopped moving with such vigor.  It no longer drifted directly toward the God candle.  It moved leftward, toward the silver candle and away.  Even shaking the incense caused the smoke to make a rhythmic zigzag, exactly what you would expect, without the energetic images of before.  The air conditioning continued its hum in the background, so I would expect the air currents to be the same.   But the life of the smoke had left the room, and I was just looking again at the science of a burning incense stick.

I ended the ritual, and took notes.  Then I went to find my animal oracle deck to look at the Elk card.  I never found it, realizing I wasn’t meant to look there.  In searching, though, I saw my Rune book and remembered the protection Rune is the Elk.  I read about Algiz and the strong protection and prosperity it brings. 

I will continue to think on the other images, but to me, I heard the message – get writing so you can get to that ecstatic dancing!  So here you are, reading a very long entry about scrying.

Blessed be!!