by Katie Craig
I’ve been working with tarot cards and runes since I was 11 or 12 years old. Over the years, it’s become less and less about what I see on the card and more about what I feel in my gut when I sit across the table from someone.
The cards have become more of a tool for tapping into my knowing, my intuition, than about the literal interpretation of the pictures. It’s like holding the cards in my hands gives me permission to relax into that place of allowing information to flow.
In the last year, I’ve learned a couple different ways to read tea leaves. Maybe because I am clumsy and prone to dropping, spilling, and splashing, I haven’t yet found that reading tea leaves taps me into that place of knowing.
I’m concentrating so hard on not sloshing tea onto myself or someone else that I can’t quite drop into the space between here and there, the place where the juicy information lives.
Working with pendulums to clear negative energy, I stumbled across another means of connecting with messages from somewhere else. Watching a rose quartz pendulum spin ‘round and ‘round in my hand, suddenly I had all kinds of words of insight to share with my friend.
The faster the pendulum went, the faster the information seemed to flood my brain until the pendulum finally snapped free from its chain and flew across the room.
When I learned of a scrying class in my town, I was eager to sign up.
The thought of scrying immediately evoked mental imagery of a bejeweled fortune teller and her crystal ball, speaking predictions in a voice tinged with a mysterious foreign accent. Scrying can be done with a crystal ball, a mirror, water in a vessel of some sort, or even a body of water like a pond or lake.
I wondered if it would work for me like tarot or pendulums, or if I’d struggle with it like tea leaves.
Our teacher shared with us some history of scrying and we all received our own scrying mirrors. She shared the care and maintenance of our scrying tool, suggesting we keep it under wraps when not in use.
We moved through a grounding exercise, and once grounded and relaxed, we were to try to make contact with our spiritual team, our informational allies in the scrying process.
Our teacher let us know that we might see something in the mirror, smell some kind of fragrance, hear words or phrases, or just have some information pop into our heads.
I focused on my mirror with the intention of connecting with my spiritual team, the beings of the highest positive vibration that are with me every day. I saw a greyish shape in the mirror, just a blob, and then heard loud and clear in my head the voice of my maternal grandmother fussing at me for not reaching out to her sooner, that she’d been waiting all along for me.
She told me she was doing just fine and to come back and talk to her again. As the exercise ended, I was smiling and laughing because only my grandmother would pierce the veil to fuss at me for not scrying sooner.
In our next exercise, we paired up with a partner to try to have our spiritual team connect with our partner’s team for a little conversation. I was paired up with a young man I’d never met before. I faced him and said “Hi,” then looked into my mirror.
I saw a big deer, antlers and all, and told my partner that he had an animal guide with him, a deer or a caribou. My partner nodded like he heard that sort of idea every day.
Suddenly, in my head, I heard very clearly in an unfamiliar voice, “That’s Josh,” so I asked cautiously, “Are you Josh or John or Joe or something?” He told me his name was Josh, and that’s when I laughed so hard I broke whatever trance or connection I might have had. I was ungrounded and unfocused, but I was delighted.
Scrying is a brand new (yet ancient) toy in the treasure chest of divination for me, and I’m curious to see what I might learn with it. I’d love to see in the comments your own experiences with scrying or even your questions about scrying. Together, our curiosity can keep scrying alive for the magical generations after ours.
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