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Scrying is the art of divining by looking into an appropriate surface. It could be water, a mirror on the wall, a crystal ball, or a slap of rock. For that matter, some people are quite talented at seeing visions in the flames of fire or in the bottom of a teacup. Smooth, natural surfaces are much better and less distracting, however. 

I like to think that a chunk of shiny black obsidian was the first scrying mirror. We know the ancients had special prophets and priestesses who engaged in foretelling the future, and they were making and using tools of their trade from various crystals at hand. No doubt they would be delighted to know we are still using crystal balls made from translucent quartz and mysterious volcanic obsidian! I cleanse mine before and after each use with rainwater that has set through at least one day of sun and one night of moonlight, but rituals can get as elaborate as you want! 

A True Story

The priests of a certain sanctuary wished to build a shrine on a particular piece of land. Accordingly, they summoned a diviner to take omens for the project.

“Build elsewhere,” said the omens. “Build here, and in five years' time, there will be no shrine.”

Now, the priest-kind misliked this divination, for the site was indeed a choice one. They brought in a second diviner who, as you will not be surprised to hear, soon found omens more to their liking.

Without even offering sacrifices of propitiation, as one might expect, the priests soon oversaw the building of a fine shrine in the chosen location.

Five years later, this shrine was destroyed by a flood.

Mirrors have been tools of magic since time immemorial. Shiny, smooth reflective surfaces have lent themselves so well to the imagination and intuition. It is little wonder that these portals to another world promote psychic awareness. Obsidian and other types of shimmering rocks and volcanic glasses presented themselves to primitive peoples as opportunities to communicate with unseen spirits, which is what we modern folk do when we are accessing energy. 

When Harry Potter famously looked into his magic mirror, he awakened the masses to this tradition, and I have heard that sales of magic mirrors have skyrocketed. Throughout history, people looking for answers have used mirrors and even bowls filled with ink to peer into another dimension. Gazing balls and pools have also served for dealing with the divine.

The pendulum is a tool for gleaning information from your inner self. Some of the best pendulums are the ones you can make yourself by tying a piece of string or rawhide to a crystal. You should tie it so that the crystal points down. Each time you use it, ask the pendulum, “Show me yes or show me no.” The crystal pendulum will swing up and down, giving you answers. I recommend keeping a journal of your work with the pendulum. Not only will this give you a record of yes-and-no responses, but it will also help you track their effectiveness, and you will be able to see patterns of information emerging from your unconscious and the universe. I can’t recommend this highly enough. You will learn so much about yourself and your place in the world from this. I know people who absolutely depend on their pendulums for help with shopping and all manner of decision making. 

Most New Age shops now sell lovely chunks of amethyst and quartz attached to delicate chains. Do try this easiest of all forms of divination. It is fun and full of surprises!

Findhorn Spirit Oracle Cards
Written and illustrated by Swan Treasure
Findhorn Press, Rochester, VT, © 2022. $19.95
ISBN: 978-1-6411-374-5
44 cards. 3.5” x 5”

The sweet potato lies in the middle of the porch roof. Looking out the window, I wonder if it's an omen.

An omen, as a warlock friend of mine once pointed out, needs to be something out of the ordinary. In order to know what's out of the ordinary, you first have to know what's ordinary.

(He was out on a first date with a Druid one night, when the guy picked up an oak leaf from the ground and said sententiously, “In my tradition”—gods, I hate it when pagans start sentences that way—“it's a favorable omen to find an oak leaf.” Then he paused, expectantly. At the time, they were standing in an oak grove. It was autumn. Needless to say, there were no more dates.)

I presume that the sweet potato in question came from the compost, and got to the roof via squirrel. That's ordinary enough around here, though I can't recall having composted any sweet potatoes lately. Still, mine isn't the only backyard midden on this alley.

A sweet potato on the roof, though: I'll grant that tentative “out of the ordinary” status. Now, of course, we arrive at the central crux of omen-reading: what the flock does it mean?

OK: it's on this roof, so clearly—if it is a sign—it's a sign for this household.

As for meaning, well: nice fat tuber, comes from underground, gold in color.

I'd say: Unexpected windfall coming soon. Gods grant the omen.

A few hours later, I remember and look out the window again. The sweet potato is gone.

Some time ago I wrote about the possibility that Minos, who is a god and not a mythical king, is a Moon god. It turns out, that's only one of his many fascinating aspects.

There's precious little about him in the garbled fragments of Minoan myth that survived into classical times. The stories mostly talk about him being a king, and a horrid one at that. But the tidbits of information that led us to view him as a Moon god also point to his connection with the Minoan sacred calendar. More on both of those aspects shortly.