Sitting with Divination

I've been reading tarot for myself for a long time. Ever since I bought my first deck, the Llewellyn Tarot, on a whim in 2008 or so. Before I was even identifying as a Pagan, although looking back, I already was one. I'd already had my first very shocking experience of Pagan deity. If pressed, I might have admitted I was Pagan-curious. But reading Tarot for myself is a lot like looking in a mirror. The cards become markers in the personal language of my own soul. I know what each means to me, and I can read them clearly. It's a skill, I think, fitting the spread to the constellation of experience you're considering and then drawing out the meaning.

But it's a totally different experience than using tarot to communicate with another being. Totally different skill set.

Temperance, from the Llewellyn Tarot

Every time I read an omen at the end of my rituals I am baffled. Every single time it feels like the most unexpected, indecipherable nonsense imaginable. I shuffle the deck in the deep state of connectedness that has really taken hold by that point in a good ritual. But when I start pulling cards it's like being hit in the face with cold water. What the heck could these random bits of image and symbol possibly mean to me?

It's one reason I rarely write about rituals very soon after I complete them. Because just about every time, I need time and distance to even approach interpreting that omen. Sometimes I need a few days' distance to even tell you if I think the message was positive or negative!

I leave the three cards out on my shrine after I put the rest of the deck away and return the shrine to its pre-ritual state. I look at them every time I pass by. I let the images sort of soak into my subconsciousness, and then, three days... even a week later, when I sit down to write about the ritual, it's usually so easy to see what those cards mean.

Three of Cups, from the Llewellyn Tarot

Sometimes that means I have work to do. My most recent reading tells me that the nature spirits think I'm seriously missing the mark with my offerings since we moved in November. Every omen I've taken since we moved in has been dissatisfied. Once I pulled the Tower. Sometimes when the meaning of the omen hits five or six days later it means I go back to the altar and do more. More offerings, more prayers. Sometimes it's more divination because the answer I got just leads to more questions. Sometimes... like now...  I don't know how to make it right.

But at least I'm learning to read it. Communication is key to building relationships. Sometimes it feels like I'm learning to communicate all over again, like a baby speaking gobbledygook to her parents. I feel like I just said "mama" for the first time.

But at least I'm moving forward.

Things you make. Things you see. Awen. Inspiration.

Today in the parking lot of my office building, I saw something that reminded me of how amazing the world is. It's no wonder that crows and ravens have long been considered the messengers of gods, they are so smart and so creative.

This particular crow had found a treasure: A mini-bar sized bottle of Dr. McGillicuddy's mint liqueur. He'd somehow managed to lever that unopened bottle halfway up a tree and was sitting there, in full view of myself and my coworkers, totally unperturbed by our observation, trying with beak and claws to get that bottle open.

I'm not a Heathen, but in that moment I could not help but think Odin would be proud.

Speaking of all things Northern. I made myself a starter set of runes. I've been reading tarot for years and it works more and less well depending on the day and my state of mind. I'd like to learn to divine with something more abstract than tarot and with less garbled history than tarot, which draws influence from here, there, and everywhere. I looked at Ogham too, but I'm going to start with Runes because it's been more easy for me to find information and established systems to use. Ogham seems to be more specialized, less common, and more fragmented and I don't have the money to buy books just now.

And lastly, on the subject of things I make. I made these sets of prayer beads, which I'm hoping to use for my meditation practice for the DP. I just have to buckled down and write myself some prayers to go with it. When I was briefly Catholic I found the rosary to be really effective at focusing me and it let me achieve sustained and regular meditation more reliably than any other method I've tried. I'm hoping that a bead prayer/meditation will be just as effective for me when I'm directing it toward Nemetona and not Mary.

Photo by CarysBirch

The turquoise colored set are ceramic and wooden beads, in 4 sets of 6 (no specific significance to the numbers, it was a broken necklace and that's how many beads I had.) The second set is aventurine and white quartz, and it's arranged in three groups of three, with an extra bead to start and end on.

These are my inspirations for today.

Winter Solstice Ritual 2015 (Dedicant Path Essay)

My winter solstice did not go according to plan. Amid the usual chaos of an American December, my car broke down and we spent the days leading up to the solstice itself scrambling for a way to replace it. What happened to allow that was a moment of great generosity and friendship. My prepared plans for ritual didn't happen, from a combination of the actual events and the exhaustion that follows the relief of strain, I just couldn't do it. What I did instead was go to my altar. I lit a bunch of candles. I burned  scented oils (cinnamon and cedar) and I spent a long time in front of my altar praying and meditating, and watching the candles burn down. I have a set of wooden prayer beads I use for meditation, and my intended solstice centerpiece prayer worked well as a mantra for praying with beads. It just felt appropriate to sit there in the presence of the gods and spirits, and be grateful. It wasn't ADF style, there were no offerings or omens, but it was nonetheless very meaningful for me. I'm struggling to describe this in a way that makes it sound like I did anything to observe the high day, but it was a really lovely, deeply connected experience of gratitude and hope, and I thought about doing a more structured rite later and decided it was unnecessary. What I did was complete, even if it wasn't a full high day ritual.

image via pixabay.com

This post is late going up, partly because I was overwhelmed with events and partly because I really struggle in the winter getting anything done.

Two Powers Meditation (Dedicant Path Essay)

My meditation practice started when I was exploring Catholicism. The rosary and its attendant meditations immediately clicked with me, the tactile elements of the beads, the standard prayers that silenced my internal chatter, the guidance of subjects to contemplate. It just works for me. I've explored other meditations since with varying degrees of success. Visualization heavy guided meditations don't work well for me, I have poor eyesight and don't rely on vision in ordinary living as much as I think many folks do. Walking meditations are amazing, especially the Labyrinth a local UU church sponsored monthly. I need my meditations to be tactile to keep my mind focused.

At first, using the Dedicant Manual's guided Two Powers structure, I really struggled to connect. I changed my perspective on it after reading a lot of dedicant blogs and finding a modification that worked better. To connect with the Two Powers, I had to shift my perspective and relate to it as a tactile meditation.  I do use a script, though it's very short, and most of the meditation is silent. I forego the script if I'm trying to snatch a quick meditation in the middle of a crowd or at my desk at work.

Sacred well, flow in me this day.

Sacred fire, burn in me this day.

Sacred tree, grow in me this day.

(This form of the meditation is modified from Kevin Silverstag's Blog here: https://atthesignofthewhitehart.wordpress.com/2011/11/16/the-three-powers-meditation/)

The first segment, the well, I concentrate on the cool, flowing sensation of water. I usually do visualize dark, brown, moist earth, but the physical sensation is the important connector. As I inhale, I draw the water up through my feet and legs and into the center of my body.

For the fire, I concentrate on the warm heat of the sun shining on my face and shoulders. I try to see blue sky and bright sunlight, but again, the important part is getting the physical sensation of heat and warmth and well being. As I exhale, I draw the sunlight down through my body.

At this point, I have to take a moment to balance the two powers, it's easy to lose the deep power when drawing the bright power. Once the two powers are flowing together I can feel a deep, cyclical, push and pull inside me as they interact. This is when I focus on being the tree, between the worlds, drawing needed nourishment from both but part of neither. There is frequently a physical sensation of wind moving around me, rustling my leaves.

Yggdrasil, from English translation of the Prose Edda, by Oluf Olufsen Bagge
Public Domain Image via Wikimedia Commons

I can typically only hold the meditation for a few minutes, although I tend to be better at it the more I practice. When I start to become distracted, I release the powers in the opposite order I drew them (tree, fire, well) and return to my regular day.

I've found that regular practice of this does keep me feeling whole and connected. I'm not great at maintaining a regular practice, but it's a valuable skill and I'm extremely glad I tried it.