Yes, no, goodbye? Rosemary Ellen Guiley on Oujia

This week I caught an episode of the Paranormal Podcast, featuring Rosemary Ellen Guiley on the topic of Oujia boards.  The interview coincides with the release of Guiley's new book devoted to the history and lore of the Oujia, or "talking board," as the device is generically known.  She breezes through the Oujia's origins as a Spiritualist-era craze and its current status as a pop-culture icon and mainstay of urban legend.  But host Jim Harold keeps the conversation centered around one question:  Does the board really deserve its bad reputation?

 I've always marvelled at the knee-jerk reaction many people have to the very mention of Oujia--and not just people who are unfamiliar with or fearful of the occult.  I remember one time as a preteen, two friends and I pooled our allowance money to buy a Oujia board at the toy store.  It was the closest my liberal and rational-minded parents ever came to an outright prohibition of anything.  Much later, I became active in a paranormal group, where it was accepted as a truism that any pesky house-ghost manifestation could likely be traced back to a naive person playing with a Oujia board.  And of course I've heard plenty of New Age folks say matter-of-factly that Oujia allows "lower vibrations" to manifest, that it attracts "earthbounds," that it "opens a door" to astral cesspools, etc., etc.

So it's become a matter of course to shun the boards and blame them for all kinds of mayhem, from demonic possession to poltergeist activity to streaks of bad luck.  But why?  Why does Oujia occupy a category apart from other tools people use to access psychic information?  Isn't Oujia, based as it (probably) is on the ideomotor response of the body, basically just a form of dowsing?  How does using the board open a person up to unwholesome spiritual influences any more than say, automatic writing?  Is a paper and ink really more "visible" to predatory entities than a mediumistic individual, sans board?  I'm not denying that some people experience truly disturbing events related to Ouija use.  I just want to understand the mechanics here, and why this device is considered to be so especially dangerous.

Which is why I listed to Guiley's opinion with eager curiosity.  Her controversial position: Oujia gets a bad rap.  The board itself isn't evil, and it isn't fundamentally different than other spirit contact devices.  When asked why Oujia is associated with so much bad juju, she offers some different theories.  (I don't have the recording handy, so I'm going to paraphrase.) There's the prevalence of Oujia-related mischief in horror films, she says, which creates the expectation of fear in users.  Then there's also the ease of access for casually interested folks--people who would never go into a metaphysical shop to buy a dowsing rod can pick up a Parker Bros. board at Target.  And there's the internet, which allows fear-mongering and superstition to propagate out of control.  This interview was a treat.  I haven't totally made up my mind about Oujia yet, and I admire Guiley for having the guts to take an unorthodox stance and consider tough questions without spouting off cliches.  It doesn't stop her from rounding out her book with shocking and scintillating Oujia anecdotes--but hey, those make for good reading.

If you're interested in this topic, I recommend picking up a copy of Oujia Gone Wild, with co-author Rick Fisher.  Guiley's been working on the book for the last couple of years, and it's finally available through her website, visionaryliving.com.  (A digital edition is forthcoming.)  Has she been laying low since her sometime co-author, Philip Imbrogno, got busted for fabricating credentials and sources?  No matter.  It's great to see a new book from Guiley, and on such a perennially fascinating topic.

Legendary scryers: Morgaine from The Mists of Avalon

Viviane opened a little bag she wore about her neck and took out a small quanitity of crushed herbs, which wafted a sweetish-musty scent through the chamber.  She sifted only a few grains into the basin of water before saying in a low, neutral voice, "Look into the water, Morgaine.  Make your mind perfectly still, and tell me what you see."

Morgaine came and knelt before the basin of water, looking intently into its clear surface.  The room was very silent, so still that Viviane could hear the small chirping of some insect outside.  The Morgaine said, in a wandering, unfocused voice, "I see a boat.  It is draped with black and there are four women it it...four queens, for they wear crowns...and one of them is you...or is it me?"

"It is the barge of Avalon," Viviane said, low.  "I know what you see."  (The Mists of Avalon (1984), Marion Zimmer Bradley)

There are few pagans and witches of a certain age who don't recall Marion Zimmer Bradley's Avalon books with a sense of fondness.  The formula of epic Arthurian fantasy percolated through Berkeley neopaganism made for a delicious cuppa--and for those of us without access to a pagan/occult community, it quelled a mighty craving.  I snuck it out of my mom's book pile as a kid, bookmarked all the witchy and sexy bits, and pored over them until the pages got grubby.  I also devoured the inferior prequels (Lady of Avalon, Priestess of Avalon, etc.), until my small-town library figured out they were basically pagan porn and quit buying them.

For the handful of people who don't know, Mists covers the Camelot saga from the viewpoint of Morgaine (better known as Morgan le Fay), King Arthur's half-sister.  As the story begins, Morgaine is the loner at her father's court, a plain and stubborn girl who Nobody Understands.  (Bradley liked this trope--she later repeated it with Cassandra of Troy in her 1986 novel The Firebrand.)  The best part of the book was when Morgaine's cool Aunt Viviane, who just happens to be the Lady of the Lake, comes to visit Morgaine at her father's castle.  She figures out that Morgaine has the Sight.  (The liberal use of capitals is one of the book's hallmarks.)  Right away, she vows to adopt Morgaine away from her politically preoccupied family.  Morgaine gets to escape the repressive court of Camelot and go live on Avalon in the House of Maidens, where she basically gets naked and does magic all the time.  You might call this part of the book my Adolescent Fantasy, or even a Latent Psychic Baby Dyke's Wet Dream.

Morgaine does most of the scrying in the book, but everyone of the Old Blood (King Arthur's mother's side of the family) has the gift to some degree.  The ladies of Avalon prefer to scry in water, outdoors, in a natural pool not shaped by human hands--though in a pinch, a metal wash-basin does the trick.  (What those magic herbs are, nobody knows.) All the mirror gazing in Mists serves two basic plot functions:  It works like a two-way radio that the Avalon can gals use to communicate across vast distances (well, as vast as they have in England).  It's also a handy foreshadowing device--thanks to their mad scrying skills, Avalon's priestesses get to gloomily prophesy the doom of Camelot and the end of the Old Religion on every third page.

If it sounds like I'm snarking on Mists, I only halfway mean it.  I was re-reading parts of the novel recently (the witchy and the sexy parts, like old times).  And it's held up pretty well over the years.  Sure, the 80's Wiccan feminism is heavy-handed in spots, but to characterize the whole thing retro-camp is unfair.  In my opinion, it's still the best retelling of the Arthur story to date.  The film version (with Julianna Margulies as Morgaine) wasn't half bad, either.

Secret Window Mirrors on Etsy

That is, you don't need fancy tools if you possess the right skills and intent, and buying stuff won't make you successful if you don't.  This is the legacy of the postmodern Chaos Magick movement--which succeeded in shaking off some of the Victorian-era filigree from the Western esoteric tradition, but perhaps took things a step too far.  Yeah, you can make sigils on Post-its if you don't have an virgin parchment laying around.  And you can scry with day-old coffee in a Solo cup if that's all you have.  But it's equally true that magic begins in the imagination, and the imagination loves color, texture, and glamour.  Anyone who's the least bit romantically or artistically inclined will appreciate the boost they get from a beautiful, evocative piece of equipment.

That's why I'd like to endorse Secret Window Mirrors on Etsy.  Creator Michelle Christine offers goth-tastic black scrying mirrors in vintage frames, as well as decorative mirrors--all crafted from salvaged goods.  Her one-of-a-kind dark mirrors look like they belong on a fairy tale wizard's study, or a spinster witch's secret cabinet.  (Prices are very reasonable, too.)  If you're crafty, her work might inspire you to haunt some estate sales for your own scrying mirror, and put a little filigree back into your life.

Scrying with obsidian

Obsidian is a natural volcanic glass.  It is an ancient scrying tool with unique properties and sacred associations that make it a popular choice even today.   The stone, found primarily in North America, is black with a naturally glossy texture.  Large deposits of obsidian were formed when silica-rich lava or magma cooled rapidly, creating an igneous rock.  Obsidian often gets lumped into the crystal category by New Agers, but the stone is technically not crystalline--it's vitreous (or amorphous).  The metaphysical properties attributed to obsidian include grounding, blocking negative energy, spiritual protection, and enhancing psychic vision.  (Isn't every single gemstone credited with clearing negativity and enhancing psychic vision?  Just once, I'd like to walk into a crystal store and have someone say, "Here, check out the energy of this crappite--it shuts down all your chakras at once and gives you warts, besides!") 

Anyway, the largest veins of obsidian are found in North America, where for thousands of years it was used to make tools and ceremonial items.  Obsidian is fairly easy to shape with stone tools, and can be honed to an extremely sharp edge.  The knowledge of metallurgy, so important in the course of European civilization, did not develop in pre-Colombian Mesoamerica, perhaps because of the wide availability of obsidian for knives, axes, and awls.  To the Aztecs, obsidian was a divine stone, thought to be a form of blood originating from deep in the earth.  It was sacred to the god Tezcatlipoca ("Smoking Mirror"), who presided over magic, divination, the night sky, and ancestral memory.  Obsidian also has mythic significance in the Navajo and Maya cultures.  (For more obsidian facts and history, go here.)

Obsidian in its usual form is solid black and polished to a high shine.  But there are variations.  "Gold sheen" or "silver sheen" obsidian has phantom streaks of light-catching inclusions, which are caused by tiny gas bubbles trapped during the cooling process.  "Rainbow" obsidian has a multicolor effect caused in a similar way by trapped water.  There's also "snowflake" obsidian (or "Apache tears") that is sprinkled with grey, ash-like flecks.  (I can't imagine that this kind would be very good for scrying.)  Most obsidian goods come from Mexico.  You can buy obsidian in the usual assortment of shapes, including spheres, cabochons, skulls, pyramids and palmstones, and also in natural chunks which reflect the flow of the lava that formed it.

Among the most prized of scrying tools are black obsidian mirrors.  These are usually unframed round or ovoid slabs about a centimeter thick.  Broad pieces of obsidian that can be crafted into mirrors are rare, and it takes a lot of skill to cut the brittle stone this way.  That translates into serious coin.  I've seen 6-inch obsidian mirrors selling for $300 or more online, while most occult shops offer 12-inch beveled black glass mirrors for between $60 and $100.  If it's important to you to have the natural volcanic glass, you'll almost certainly have to content yourself with a smaller surface.

Now, from reading various internet forums (why, oh why?) I've learned that some people are reluctant to use a black surface for scrying, the same way some people have a fearful reaction to black candles, robes, and other ritual tools.  Of course my esteemed readers already know that there isn't anything evil or sinister about the color black and indeed it has a rich symbolic link to sleep, the powers of the North, the generative darkness of the Goddess, etc.  I think the black mirror's PR problem comes not only from negative associations with the color, but its use in ceremonial magic as a means of evoking spirits, such as in the Solomonic revival led by Carroll "Poke" Runyon.  But just because dark mirrors are useful for evocation work, doesn't mean you can't safely use them for general divinatory purposes, also.  If you're drawn to obsidian, you should use it.  If you're so superstitious and timid that just looking at a black surface gives you the creeps, you should probably just take up needlepoint--it's safer.

 While I'm dishing out the unsolicited advice, I'd also like to say, don't worry if you can't see anything in obsidian, because it really is different from other media.  Just try something else.  (Conversely, you might want to try obsidian if other scrying tools don't do it for you.)  For years, I thought that I couldn't scry a dark surface.  Despite some fleeting success with hematite and blank computer screens, I got much better results with water and later, quartz.  I found I relied on the subtle movements of light inside my specula, and obisidian just looked flat to me.  I also disliked the tendency of black surfaces to suddenly reflect my face back to me when I was trying to get a fix on a vision.  (That's right--my face is just too, too distracting.)

Recently, though, I've branched out and started playing with a small obsidian sphere that I picked up for around $10.  I was at a new (to me) crystal store that had a large display of obsidian at very reasonable prices.  There was another shopper nearby me, a Mexican man, who was in the process of reverently handling each and every stone one by one, sometimes muttering under his breath and holding the stone closer to his head as if waiting for an answer.  I watched him for a little while, then figured well, either he's fuckin' nuts or he knows what he's doing.  What the heck, maybe I'll go find me an obsidian, too.

So I go over to the display (there was plenty of room, and anyway, he didn't notice me) and start picking up rocks.  I didn't talk to them, though.  Eventually there was one I felt particularly drawn to, a ball about an inch and a half in diameter.  I held it up to the light.  And...I saw something!  Some clouds, some mountains.  I was so excited--I'd never seen anything (besides my nose) in an obsidian sphere before.  There was motion and light, a silvery streak with just the slightest warm tinge.  (I couldn't tell if it was silver or gold, so I just called it "sold.")  I took it home and began to work with it right away.  Turns out this was a "sheen" obsidian, which I had never heard of before.  When I turn it back an forth, it has a hypnotic effect that's similar to what I get from the light play in quartz.  I still find that clear depth works best for me, but I enjoy the challenge of trying something different.  I also get out obsidian during the dark moon, when my (very lunar) primary crystal seems to be hibernating.

Well, that's about all I know about scrying with obsidian.  I recommend trying this beautiful stone, especially if you have an affinity for volcanoes, Aztec and Mesoamerican culture, the color black, or the elements of Earth and Fire.  If you have any ideas or experiences that relate to the magical use of obsidian, please share them in the comments section--I'd love to learn more.

Related links on my blog:

Read about some basic scrying techniques.
Don't like black? Shop for a crystal instead.
See pictures of the most notorious obsidian mirror ever.

Legendary scryers: The Page of Cups

And now for something completely different.  Our legendary scryer for today isn't a historical figure or a fictional character, but instead a Tarot court card, the Page of Cups.

Also known as the Princess of Cups in some decks, this card usually depicts a dreamy youth holding a cup or chalice.  In the classic Waite-Smith and derivative decks, a fish is popping up to the surface, symbolizing the deep unconscious.  When taken as a significator, this card stands for a young, intuitive person of any gender (and often an androgyne). The Page of Cups is creative and sensitive, but not always emotionally mature.  When reversed or ill-aspected, it can indicate someone who is flaky, withdrawn, impractical, or subject to mood disorders or substance dependence. Astrologically, it corresponds to the water signs (Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces).  Besides representing a person, the appearance of this Page in a reading can signify the beginning of a creative undertaking or psychic exploration.

So why do I call the Page of Cups the scryer of the deck?  Well, for one thing, she bears a cup of water, a perennially popular scrying tool.  The Queen of Cups is also traditionally a card of clairvoyance--but she, being ruled by Scorpio, possesses a more forceful psychic/sexual energy than the Page, who is gently receptive.  The obedient and and humble Page is, I believe, a closer expression of the process of scrying.  When we seek visions, we adopt a passive mental state and accept information as it comes.

Another reason is her sub-elemental attribution.  Each of the court cards has a sub-elemental correspondence which bridges two of the elements--the Page of Cups is Earth of Water.  The Page stands with her feet on the ground, but her eyes are cast into the cup.  In this context, Water represents the world of visions, and Earth represents the world of manifestation.  The scryer uses physical tools to access an intuitive reality.  To extend the metaphor, when we scry, we cast a line out for the things swimming around in our unconscious, and allow them to be beached on the shores of our Earth senses.  We see the creature of the deep manifesting before our eyes, seeming to have a life of its own--just like the fish in the cup.

Finally, there's the symbolism of the cup itself.  The chalice of water is, among other things, an eloquent expression of the Hermetic concept of the Universal Mind.  The water in the cup is linked to every drop of water on the planet via the oceans and individual mind is a reflection of the One Mind, and contains infinite multitudes. If we can look past the cup (the ego that contains our being), we can link up with the ocean (Being with a capital B).  This allows us to see things that are distant from our own experience, narrowly defined.  Many have argued that this connection with the Universal Mind is the source of all psychic experiences, and I certainly don't have a better theory!

So, if you work with Tarot, as I do, you could try using the archetype of the Page of Cups to enhance your practice.  Try meditating on the card to learn about the nature of seership.  Place him on your table or altar when you scry, or store him with your bowl or crystal.  If you reach a place where you're stuck and feel like you're not making progress, you could do a reading, placing the Page in the center as your significator, to find out what will help you move forward.

The Page of Cups pictured above is from the Morgan Greer deck.

In, at, or through? Where to look when scrying

From watching movies and television, it's easy to get the idea that crystal balls and whatnot work pretty much like the TV itself.  You just tune it to the right channel, and then watch the pictures progress across the screen--clear, continuous, and illuminated by an LCD haze.  While this may describe some people's experience of scrying, it's certainly not the most common experience.  And this expectation can be a real stumbling block, especially for beginners who feel like they're doing it wrong because they're not getting 50 channels in HD video.

It's pretty obvious, but it's probably worth mentioning anyway--when you see something "in" your scrying medium, the picture is actually in your mind.  If you were to photograph the image, it wouldn't show up.  If someone was looking over your shoulder, they wouldn't see the same vision.  (Unless you were telepathically linked, or under the influence of the same entity...but that's another discussion.)  Basically, the vision is an induced hallucination that you are choosing to locate in or around the speculum for your convenience.

I recently heard author Geoffrey James express this concept very aptly while a guest on the podcast Thelema Now!  The show's host, Frater Puck, asked James for advice for listeners who had trouble scrying, and he gave this response:

Well, the main thing about scrying is that you have to plug the crystal ball into a USB port, or it doesn't work.  (Laughter.)  The problem that is involved there, when people say that they can't scry, or they say that it doesn't work for them is that they're expecting it to look like a television show.  They're expecting it to look like the movie where someone looks into a crystal stone, and then inside you see, like, teeny people doing things.  That's all convention, in terms of being able to show something like that.  And by the way, that's not new.  At one point, during Dee's work, they decided to use one of his sons, Arthur Dee, as a scryer--he was maybe eight or nine at the time.  And he looked into the stone and all he described some things: "Oh, it looks like there's these little round things coming at me," and eventually Dee looked at it, and there was just some little bubbles in the crystal that he was seeing.  So he was making the same mistake.  But the truth is that the visions occur in your mind, in your imagination--they don't occur as a physical thing that you see inside of the stone.  They actually might, if you were a schizophrenic. You might actually see things, because schizophrenic people literally see things. It's probably an occasion for worry if you actually saw little creatures inside the stone, you know, it's probably time to go get some meds because you're probably not too healthy if that's what's going on.  You have to think of it as more akin to a very focused sort of meditation rather than something that's going to be like the magic out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  That's just not how it is.  It'd be cool if it were, but it just doesn't work that way.  

On the other hand, some people are gonna say, "Well, it's only in your head."  What do you mean, only?  (Laughter.)  Hey what do you mean by that?  "Only"?  Everything's only in your head. Everythng that you perceive about the world, everything--it's all coming through your eyes and ears and through your brain.   So, "only"?  That's all you've got anyway! 

(Geoffrey James on Thelema Now! September 15, 2009.)

 Instructional books and articles offer many tips on how to approach the scrying mirror, crystal, or bowl.  They attempt to explain the technique to eyes used to watching screens:  "Look into it, not at it," or "gaze through it, like a window," or (my personal favorite), "look at it without seeing it."  All those diverse prepositions serve to highlight two essential facts about seership: It's hard to describe with words, and it's likely a little different for everyone.

Here's a list of some of the phenomena the scryer may experience:

• Clouds, mists, or lights which have no definite form, but may evoke thoughts and emotions.
• Flat, screen-like images of varying clarity projected onto the surface of the speculum.
• Events and objects in miniature, enclosed within the boundaries of the medium. (Like a snow globe.)
• Images that appear at a slight distance, as through a window.
• Images inside the speculum, but with portions of the vision extending out towards the seer in three dimensions.
• Visions which appear outside the speculum and seem to be in the room with the seer.
• Images seen in the mind's eye, while the open eyes are fixed on a point.
• Images seen behind closed eyes. 
• Reflections of actual objects on the surface of the speculum, which shift to form other sights.
• Non-visual information: sounds, words, emotions, physical sensations.
• Intuitions which occur directly to the seer, without sensory input.
• Visions which transport the scryer's consciousness to another place, not centered on the speculum.

And any combination of the above may occur in a single session!

What this means is that there are countless valid ways to receive information while scrying.  One is not necessarily better than another, and you can focus your eyes anywhere you damn well please, as long as the method allows you to be comfortable and undistracted.  It doesn't matter if your tools don't work like Jafar's--they will work if you are patient enough to find a good technique and flexible enough to accept the different modes of vision that may come to you.

Good luck!

M

Damon Albarn's Dr. Dee a dissapointment

This article concerns the music from the opera Dr. Dee, which debuted in Manchester, England in July 2011 to generally good reviews.  I just got my earbuds on the cast album (not the "soundtrack," as musical geeks are quick to point out) and had a few thoughts:

 I've been looking forward to hearing this since 2010, when Damon Albarn (frontman for Blur and Gorillaz) and Alan Moore (mad wizard comic writer) announced they were working on an opera based on the life of John Dee (Elizabethan mathemetician and mage).  As an admirer of all three men's work--as well as opera, musical theater, and Renaissance music--I thought the project sounded like a slam dunk, an irresistible confection that must have been dreamed up in a laboratory by evil pop scientists tuned into my every cultural craving.  Moore was to write the libretto, and Albarn to compose the music.  But the collaboration was fraught from the beginning, with the famously agreeable Moore bailing halfway through after Albarn reportedly flaked on some art he was going to do for Moore's zine Dodgem Logic.

Now, I didn't get a chance to see the stage show--from pictures I've seen, the production design looks amazing. Neither have I read Moore's unfinished libretto (which he rather snarkily published in the occult journal Strange Attractor).  But it appears from the music, and from reviews I've read, that Dr. Dee is a little short on story.  There's not enough exposition here to help along anyone who isn't already familiar with Dee and the angelic magic he undertook with scryer Edward Kelley.  And there isn't enough depth of content to sate the occultist segment of the audience, who would certainly prefer to see the pair's magic treated more thoroughly.  Dee himself is notably absent from the album: The title character doesn't sing at all, and has only a few spoken lines in the play.  Kelley is more of a presence.  (He's played by Christopher Robson, whose haunting countertenor is one redeeming quality of the album.)  Unfortunately, instead of characters, we get tropes:  Dee is a Faustian figure, teetering on the edge of damnation as a result of his hubristic curiosity.  Mrs. Dee is a dutiful wife who is torn by split loyalties.  And Kelley is your typical semi-reluctant medium (too long a mainstay of network TV dramas), alternately exhilarated and tormented by forces he can't fully grasp.  (At least he sounds tormented--it's hard to make out all the lyrics.)

Equally head-scratching is Albarn's decision to sing many of the numbers from a narrative perch, rather than giving them to the cast.  His nasally croon, so perfect for the disaffected millennial groove of Blur and the Gorillaz, is jarring and anachronistic when inserted into an opera populated by traditional operatic voices.  The contrast is original, but it doesn't exactly work.

All of these shortcomings might be forgiven if the music was better.  The production's biggest problem is the lack of standout songs.  Albarn's acoustic numbers such as "Apple Carts" and "A Marvelous Dream" are nice enough balladry, but don't showcase the cast members or truly serve the story.  A high point might be "The Moon Exalted," but it's a slow and nebulous ensemble piece--not exactly a toe-tapping show-stopper.  Too many of the other tracks are tuneless and tepid filler.  Stuck in a rut of moody set-pieces, Dr. Dee fails to plumb the depths and scale the heights of both traditional opera and the Enochian magical working on which the story is based.

In short, based on the impressive pedigree of this album, I wanted to like it better.  I can only hope that the mediocrity of Dr. Dee doesn't discourage other artists' attempts at interpreting the lives of Dee and Kelley--it would be amazing to see a competently produced biography on stage or screen one day.  In the meantime, however, I'll be getting my wizardry fix from yet another community theater production of The Tempest before I reach for this album again.

Divination methods: Intuitive vs. inductive

Open almost any occult reference work, and you're likely to find a list of divination methods ranging from the familiar to the chuckle-worthy:

acultomancy	divination using needles
aeromancy	divination by means of the weather
ailuromancy	divination by watching cats’ movements
alectormancy	divination by sacrificing a rooster
alectryomancy	divination by watching a rooster gather corn kernels
aleuromancy	divination using flour or meal
alomancy	divination using salt
alphitomancy	divination using loaves of barley
alveromancy	divination using sounds
ambulomancy	divination by taking a walk
amniomancy	divination by examining afterbirth

And so on. The word "divination" connotes communication with the divine, but it's rarely as simple as a two-way communication between the seeker and the Big Guy. Rather, the practice of divination infers that the divine communicates with us through obscure and densely coded signs--hence the proliferation of methods around the world, based on the tools that are available and traditional.

 I was interested to learn recently that anthropologists who study divination in past and present cultures divide the mantic arts into two broad categrories.  Intuitive divination involves the direct reception of information (from spirits, visions, or dreams).  Inductive divination is the process of observing signs (from objects, generally) and extrapolating meaning from them.  Divination methods may be placed on a sliding scale between these two points.  Shamanic trance work, for instance is strongly intuitive, and only incidentally inductive.  Observing the flight of birds or the arrangement of entrails, is mostly inductive with a minimal intuitive component.  The former method is thought to require some special skill or natural ability, while the latter can be done by anyone, once they learn the system and standard meanings.

This dichotomy describes two fundamentally different (though not mutually exclusive) assumptions about how divination works.  One centers on the ability of the human mind or spirit to go out into the ether and find the information it seeks; the other focuses on the tendency organize itself in an orderly fashion, in which reflections of events are noted by the observant diviner, and missed by everyone else.

Now, some may argue that we're describing two sides of the same coin, if we say the intuitive approach relies on the power of the individual to receive knowledge, and that the inductive approach relies on the universe (or gods) to communicate knowledge.  In any case, it's clear that the divination practices cannot neatly be divided into two discrete categories, which is why some posit a third category, which is really an intermediary to the two and which is called interpretive divination.

Some of the most popular forms of divination fall into this interpretive category.  A tarot reader, for instance, generally uses a combination of inductive and intuitive abilities to produce a reading.  He will shuffle the cards until he feels that it's time to stop (intuition).  He will then lay the cards out in a prearranged pattern, and accept the dealt cards as a message relevant to the matter at hand (induction).  A good reader will also be able to choose the most accurate among the many possible meanings for each card (intuition again) and relate the basic card meanings to the question in an expansive way (more induction).

Now for a little discussion on the relative strengths and weaknesses of each approach.

I've come to believe that inductive divination practices can be useful problem-solving tools even if the diviner's psychic senses are weak or non-existent.  This is because induction is a form of creative thinking that can trigger new and unexpected ideas.  I'll show you what I mean.  Let's suppose, for the sake, of argument, that you live in a universe where psychic abilities do not exist.  There are no supernatural or synchronistic forces at work, and complete randomness is the law.  Nevertheless, you're having a relationship problem, and you decide to do a divination by drawing a rune from a sack. The rune you draw is Berkana, "Birth."  It's totally random, remember, but you believe that it has significance--that it carries some encoded message about your relationship--so you turn it this way and that in your mind, you look up some different definitions and try to apply them.  Does it herald a new beginning for the relationship or does it mean someone's being a big baby?  Maybe it points to something that you need to bring forth or develop, but what could that be?  And so on.  And at the end of this exercise, you know more about the relationship than you did before--not because the divination gave you real information (it didn't), but because it coaxed you into focusing on your issue and thinking about it in a creative manner.  I've noticed this phenomenon with beginning tarot readers.  Often they haven't developed their intuitive faculties and the cards they draw seem (to me) to be pretty much a mishmash of random cards.  But in the process of scanning the scattered cards for meaning, believe that they contain profound and personal messages from the universe--surprise! They find some.  (I know this sounds cynical, but I mean it in the least cynical way possible.  It is truly marvelous what kind of practical information beginners can come up with when they give themselves permission to think magically.)

 Of course, there are times when the inductive approach falls apart--like when you need specific information that isn't easily expressed by the more mechanical systems of divination.  Another example:  Let's say you left your wallet out on the kitchen table, and while you were at work your adorable basset hound mistook it for a chew toy and dragged it off somewhere.  Well, you can throw the I-Ching until your brain is swimming in broken and unbroken lines, and still not get any usable information about the location of your wallet.  Is the answer there within all the noise?  Maybe--but that's a philosophical question.  It doesn't matter to you if you can't parse the signal, and there is no trigram for "under the chaise lounge."  It would be much easier if you could just lie down for a nap and have a psychic dream in which you see Buttercup depositing the wallet in its hiding place.  You need an intuitive method.

Different methods can also provide us with different information about the same situation.  For the sake of the example, we'll say the "target", the thing the is reading about, is the movie When Harry Met Sally.  We ask a talented scryer, and we might get something like this:

I see a woman...she's blonde, pretty.  She's smiling, but I feel that she's deeply lonely.  Smell of Aquanet hairspray.  There's a crowd of people walking, like an airport or bus terminal.  A yellow car...older.  Tables in a restaurant--why is everyone laughing?

In other words, we have images, impressions--but not the plot of the movie.  Now let's ask a talented tarot reader:

The reading concern a young man and a young woman--both have very busy lives.  They're friends, but there's a lot of sexual tension.  There's the potential for travel in the future?  The Wheel of Fortune here indicates the forces of karma and destiny, the Two of Cups, marriage.  It is very likely that after experiencing various ups and downs, these two will wind up together.

One more point of comparison.  There's a long tradition of using inductive methods for here-and-now information, and intuitive methods for spiritual development and exploration--and I think there's something to that.  Again, I'm not trying to draw a false dichotomy here--you can talk to your Holy Guardian Angel with casino dice and you can scry for lost socks if you want to.  But we bliss junkies and space cadets know that visionary practices can impress upon you the full magnificence, beauty, and terror of your situation in a way that regular ole fortune-telling does not.  For me, the most profound tarot reading is about as immersive as getting absorbed in a good book, while intuitive experiences can seem, for the moment, more real than anything else.

So, let's bring all this divination theory back around, shall we?  How does it help the practitioner?  If you're clairvoyant at will, then you can probably just dispense with this divination stuff altogether. But for the rest of us, learning to use our intuitive and inductive talents in tandem (with a good measure of savvy interpretation) is offers the surest chance at success.  You should know how to choose the method best suited to your question and to your particular talents--which, of course, will vary from day to day.  So, the next time you have a vision that you don't understand, why not throw a couple of bones to try and clarify it?  Or when you notice the Empress staring seductively from the center of your Celtic Cross, how about taking a journey to her realm to see what she has to tell you?

Hope your divinations are both transcendent and enlightening.  And I hope you find those socks,

M

More words for methods of divination.

Legendary scryers: Zoltar

"Welcome Traveler! Zoltar knows why you are here."

Remember Zoltar Speaks?  This animatronic oracle is a staple of coin arcades and various other grubby joints.  The turban-clad gypsy sage had a central role in the 1988 movie Big, and continues to dispense spoken and printed fortunes in exchange for your quarters and bills.    

So, is Zoltar technically a scryer?  Well, Zoltar never seems to move his head to the his right far enough to actually look at the glowing glass orb (although in some versions he does wave his hand mysteriously over it).  Arguably, Zoltar's forte isn't crystal-gazing (crystallomancy), but divination by lots (cleromancy).  He's never seen without his crystal ball, though, so we'll just have to take it on faith that he knows how to use the thing.

Zoltar links:

Zoltar machines are still being produced by this company.  Head on over to their website to see unique photos from the production line, and even build your own custom Zoltar!  Base model starts at $5500 plus shipping.

See what's replaced the Zoltar machine from Big on the Rye Playland boardwalk in New York.

Zoltar fan Jonathan Gleich has perhaps the coolest cosplay ever--a note-perfect Zoltar booth built over a Segway.  Here's an interview with him after he won the first place in the Coney Island Mermaid Parade in 2009.

Zoltar's friends and family: A gallery of fortune telling booths featuring a whole range of costumed characters.

Twitter feed in which Zoltar grants everybody's wishes.

Candle-gazing to enhance scrying: an intermediate technique

Scrying and candles go together like peanut butter and jelly.  Candles provide the low, incandescent light that most scryers prefer.  The slow, flickering beam of the flame casts animated shadows on the reflective surface of a mirror or crystal.  The heat it generates soothes and relaxes the body.  And aesthetically speaking, there is simply nothing better than a candle or lamp flame for evoking a spiritual, mystical atmosphere in a room where magical work is taking place.

But did you know that you can deliberately use your trusty altar candles as a trance induction device?  This technique has been known in the East for centuries, as part of the discipline known as tratakam, or yoga of the fixed gaze.  It is defined as sustained, single-pointed focus on an internal or external point.  The practice helps to improve concentration, access altered states, and achieve inner sight.  Candle-gazing in particular is thought to stimulate the pineal gland, the light-sensitive "third eye" which is linked with clairvoyance.

I first discovered this technique would work for scrying in the somewhat unlikely setting of a strip-mall yoga center.  The class was what I call the "hatha-plus" variety.  We did mostly asana (physical poses), but now and then the teacher would sneak in a bit of her more esoteric knowledge.  One day, after we had completed our asana sequence, the teacher passed out tea lights and informed us we would be trying a candle-gazing meditation before settling down for our final resting pose.  The students each sat in a seated position, palms resting on knees, with the candle resting on the floor a few inches in front of the feet.  With a straight back and neck, we cast our eyes downward to settle upon the wick of the candle.  The teacher dimmed the lights, then walked around the room and lit each candle.  Immediately a soothing orange glow filled my field of vision.  The teacher began to lead a rhythmic breathing exercise, and invited us to alternately open and close our eyes.  When my eyes were open and gazing at the candle, I felt blissfully absorbed by the flame.  With my eyes closed, I could still see the after-image of the candle and feel its light and heat, but there was also a welcome darkness, pregnant with images and meaning.  I opened my eyes for another breath, then slipped back into the darkness.  The room I was in disappeared and my sense of time dissolved.  I didn't snap out of it until I heard the instructor abandon her usual clouds-and-honey yoga teacher voice for a sterner tone:   "Okay, we're done working with the candles now.  We have ten minutes left in class.  Please move to your mats and prepare for shavasana."  Oops. 

The effects of the trance gradually wore off as I lay there on my mat, but spectacular visions continued to play out on the inside of my eyelids.  Of course, since yogic meditation discourages wandering thoughts, I spent the rest of class trying to banish these "distractions."  It wasn't until later that I realized that this simple candle meditation had allowed to me to reach a faster, deeper, more visual trance state than I had thus far been able to achieve by scrying alone, and that it might be helpful to hijack the technique for my scrying practice.  Incidentally, I no longer have a regular practice of Eastern yoga, mostly because I'm lazy and don't really like to break a sweat, but also because I don't always find it to be compatible with the Western esoteric systems I use.  Nevertheless, I'm grateful for the time I have spent studying yoga, because it's helped me to develop concentration, feel more comfortable in my physical body, and perceive and direct my subtle energy.

Want to try this method?  Here's some instructions.  (Keep in mind that I'm not a yoga teacher, nor is this method strictly yogic--it's just a personal practice that I'm sharing because it gets good results.)

So, you'll need a candle or lantern, a chair (or cushion for the floor), your favorite scrying medium (I generally use a crystal ball 'cause I'm old school like that) and a surface in front of you to rest it on.  Light the candle, and make sure you have something non-flammable to set it down on.  (Because nothing kills a psychic buzz like accidentally burning your house down.) While you can do this in exercise in pitch darkness, I find that the contrast creates too much eyestrain.  So I recommend lighting a few other candles around the room or having another dim light source going at the same time.

Next, sit up straight with your scrying medium directly in front of you.  Place the candle in the center of your line of sight, in front of the speculum.  (You can always move it away to the side when you're ready to scry).  Once you're all situated, do whatever you usually do to prepare for divination: ground and center, set your intention, cast your circle, invoke your guides, whatever.  Now begin taking some yogic breaths.  This is deliberate, deep, and rhythmic breathing. (Plenty of tutorials online if you need a refresher.)  Breathe as long as you need to feel your body relax and your mind to begin to clear.  As you continue to breathe steadily, fix your attention on the candle flame and blink naturally.  (If your ocular muscles start to strain or your eyes begin to water, then you're doing it wrong.  Relax.)  See the flame of the candle, feel its warmth spreading out, observe its tiny movements.  Visualize two beams of yellow light, one from each of your open eyes, traveling out to the candle to form a triangle.  Light from the candle, the apex of the triangle, is traveling back along these invisible paths to your eyes and into your brain.  A third beam appears, going from the candle to your third eye, bisecting the triangle.  When the light reaches the space between your eyes, it spreads out and massages the area with light.  This is a breath-linked practice, so if at any time you get distracted, go back a step and focus on the pattern of your breathing.

The next step is to coordinate the blinking of your eyes to your breath.  The next time you breathe in, intensify your gaze ever so slightly and draw in the light, as if you were hoarding it for later.  As you breathe out, close your eyes.  If you've been gazing at the flame for any length of time at all, you'll notice a "burn in" effect--the shape of the fire will still be visible between your closed eyelids.  Open your eyes as you draw another breath.  Then close them, continuing to gaze at the "phantom" flame.  Continue for a set number of repetitions, or, if you're not a counter, until you feel your consciousness begin to shift.  Now gaze at the candle for two breaths (in and out, then in and out again), and rest your eyes for a count of two.  Do this for a little while, then shift to three breaths.  As the space between open-eye periods gets longer, more complex images may begin to appear in the darkness.  (By the time I get up to three breaths, I'm usually spaced, but you could try a longer count if you like.)  When you feel ready, or when your inner vision begins to awaken, set the candle aside and take up your bowl, mirror, or crystal.  As you gaze at it, allow your faculty of sight to gently transfer to its surface.  If your preferred method is fire scrying or closed-eye scrying, then you're all set to go already, you lucky mofo.

Well, I hope this has been helpful.  If you've tried this candle-gazing technique or something similar, I'd be very interested to hear how it went in the comments.

Blessings,

M

Studying the Ganzfeld effect

No, she's not relaxing in a tanning booth--the woman in this photo is participating in a Ganzfeld telepathy experiment.  If you follow parapsychology news, you probably know that Ganzfeld (German, "whole field") tests have produced some of the strongest experimental evidence for psi over the past 35 years. ("Strong" is a relative term, but hey--we take what we can get.)

There are variations in the procedure, but generally the subject rests in a comfortable position in a semi-dark room.  Eye cups (classically made of halved ping pong balls) are placed over the eyes, and a red light shines, producing a blank, pink-tinted visual field.  Headphones play a constant hum of white noise.  In this state of mild sensory deprivation, the subject relaxes and tries to "receive" one of a randomly selected group of images (the "visual target").  So far, Ganzfeld studies have produced results statistically above chance, and also above other types of "random guess" psi experiments.  (The results are also stronger for individuals who have so called "psi-conducive" personal traits.)  The theory is that psi senses, if they exist, are so faint as to be buried in the barrage of ordinary sensory input--but they can be aided by shutting off the dominant senses of sight and hearing.

People who do scrying and certain forms of meditation will recognize the state that Ganzfeld conditions are designed to replicate--partial sensory deprivation that stimulates and amplifies inner vision.  Before there were ping-pong balls and white noise generators, the psychotropic properties of imageless space were already known to human beings.  Followers of the ancient Pythagorean sect went deep into caves to experience visions, and hallucinations have also been reported by trapped miners and snowbound polar explorers.  The human mind doesn't tolerate blankness for very long, and vision-seekers can exploit this tendency to their advantage.

Perhaps because Ganzfeld conditions are cheap and easy to produce at home, it's a popular experiment, even among people without any particular interest in the paranormal.  The "recreational" use of Ganzfeld technology can allow users to experience a temporary change in consciousness without taking drugs or doing extensive meditation practice.  (Instructables.com even has a step-by step tutorial for making your own Ganzfeld mask.)  For those who want to learn to scry but are having trouble getting into the right frame of mind, trying some of the Ganzfeld techniques may be a useful stepping stone into those necessary altered states.

What do you think?  Have you ever tried Ganzfeld for research, fun, or practice?  What was the result?

Podlist? Podliography? Bunch of podcasts on scrying

One of the best places to get in-depth discussion on occult topics these days is from podcasts.  These free audio files can be downloaded and played on your computer or favorite listening device, or streamed directly.  Anyway, for your edification and your enjoyment, may I present, in no particular order...a few great podcasts on scrying.

Beyond Worlds Tarot Tribe - "Crystal Ball Scrying with Marilyn Shannon"
The lovely gals at Tarot Tribe take a break from their usual card parties to discuss the use of crystal balls.  Marilyn Shannon, a psychic from Ontario, talks about her experiences learning to use crystal balls for guidance and growth. Ms. Shannon has a warm and engaging radio presence, and has given scrying workshops at the annual Reader's Studio tarot convention to rave reviews.

Darkness Radio - "Scrying for the Dead"
Fascinating final segment of a three-part interview with Dr. Raymond Moody on the Twin Cities paranormal radio program.  Dr. Moody, pioneering researcher in afterlife experiences, discusses his studies with the psychomanteum, or "apparition booth."  These dark, mirrored chambers have been shown to be beneficial in aiding the grieving process--but their clinical use is just one possibility to explore.

The Infinite and the Beyond - "Magick with Dr. Dean Radin"
Dr. Dean Radin is senior scientist at the Institute of Noetic Sciences, and author of the book Entangled Minds: Extrasensory Experiences in a Quantum Reality.  (This is the book on parapsychology that I tend to recommend to skeptical and scientifically oriented friends.)  Dr. Radin proves himself to be an excellent sport by guesting on an occult podcast.  He answers questions about his research and how it might relate to magickal practice, as well as discussing the expansive possibilities of human and global consciousness.

Occult of Personality - "Enochian Vision Magick with Lon Milo Duquette"
 Here, the author of Enochian Vision Magick goes into detail on the Dee and Kelley scrying operation that produced the system of Enochian magic.  It's a fascinating story, and Duquette is a consummate storyteller.  Recommended for anyone with an interest in Enochian or in western magic in general.

A Witch's Primer - "Introduction to Divination and Scrying"
Brief explanation of the purpose and methods of divination, presented in an upbeat and friendly manner and geared toward the beginning witch.  Episode opens with reader mail; lesson starts about halfway through.

The Hermetic Hour - "Scrying and Traveling in the Spirit Vision"
Hermetic Hour host Poke Runyon teaches visionary techniques as the head of the Ordo Templi Astartes.  His favorite topics include angelic invocation, spirit evocation, hermetic yoga and self-hypnosis.  The venerable magician has more practical experience with these methods than just about anyone teaching today, a down-to-earth approach, and a delightful sense of humor.  This particular episode is a good place to start because it includes general discussion about what scrying is, as well as attempting to explain the differences between scrying and astral exploration.

Other relevant episodes of the Hermetic Hour:
"How to Summon a Spirit"
"Magick and Hypnosis"
"Angel Magick"
"Magical Pathworkings"
"Enochian Magick"
"Dark Mirror Evocation and Angelic Invocation"

Legendary scryers: Queen Grimhilde from Snow White

Slave in the magic mirror, come from the farthest space.  Through wind and darkness I summon thee.  Speak!  Let me see thy face.  --Queen Grimhilde, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, 1937

If I think back to the first reference to scrying I ever saw, it would probably be the evil queen in the classic film from Walt Disney.  This bodacious baddie keeps her black mirror in a secret alcove in the royal palace.  When she has a question, she commands the mirror to respond, calling forth clouds, then lightning bolts, then flames with a wave of her imperious arms.

The mirror works by way of a familiar spirit, who appears in the form of a creepy dramatist's mask and tells the queen what she needs to know.  Unfortunately, what she needs to know always relates in some way to a certain indomitable princess.  (Aren't they always.)  The mirror's revelations fuel her jealousy and obsession, by which the queen is eventually undone.  If we can take a lesson from this divinatory disaster, it's that it really, really isn't a good idea to ask the same question over and over, especially if you're expecting a different answer.

In one scene where Queen Grimhilde consults a book of spells, you can read the titles in her magical library.  They are: "Black Arts," "Witch Craft," "Alchemy," "Disguises," "Sorcery," "Black Magic," and "Poisons."  There's not a single book on magic mirrors and their use--by which we may conclude that, even in fairy tale times, there was a surfeit of information on scrying.

What's up with gazing balls?

Have you ever seen those mirrored or glass lawn ornaments known as gazing balls?  (Wikipedia redirects the search to an entry on "yard globes," but I've only ever heard them called gazing balls.)  They're sold in hardware and decor stores, and are a common sight where I live--along with birdbaths, garden gnomes, and fiberglass flamingos.

Gazing balls might be a throwback to the gardens of French aristocracy, or they may have their antecedent in colonial American "witch balls"--hanging glass orbs thought to trap evil spirits outside the house.  In any case, gazing balls are frequently placed on tripods (just like scrying balls) and, as the name implies, make excellent focal points for a lazy afternoon on the back porch.  To me, the ubiquity of gazing balls is just another example of how occult technology and imagery can slip almost unnoticed into the mainstream. I remember being fascinated with gazing balls as a kid, and thinking that anyone who displayed one in their yard must secretly be a witch.

While gazing balls are usually too reflective to be ideal as a scrying tool, I must admit I still get a little thrill imagining suburban housewives and grannies trancing out in their gazing balls while weeding the begonias!

Some belated basics, or how to scry

All right, so...the time has come to cover some beginning scrying techniques. Even though my goal for this project is to offer a little more depth and breadth than you get from most "how-to"-type content, I'd be remiss if I skipped over the basics completely.  A couple more disclaimers: I don't really believe that visionary skills can be taught.  They come from innate talent and from hard work (and we can argue about the ratio all day), but the bottom line is that I can't teach this, and neither can any book, workshop, etc.  I offer this up as grist for your information mill only.  Second, any time I use spatial metaphors for states of consciousness (e.g., "higher" or "lower") they're just a clumsy last resort and shouldn't be taken too literally.  We're talking about the ineffable here, and it's effing hard to describe.  Finally, should you want some other opinions on how to scry, there are other good books and articles on this topic, so I'll add links at the bottom of this post when I get around to it.

So, the first thing you'll need is your chosen speculum.  Speculum (Latin, "thing for looking") is just the category name for all scrying tools.  (It also happens to be the name of the duck lips a gynecologist uses to look inside a woman's body.  You won't be needing one of those.)  Anyway, you'll take your crystal, bowl of water, mirror, and find a quiet place with a cushion or a chair to sit your ass down.  You can also lie down flat on your back, but if you have any trouble staying awake, then it's not recommended.  Plan on being undisturbed by phones, kids, spouses or pets for at least 20-30 minutes.

Next, prepare your body to enter a relaxed state.  If you already have a meditation practice, then you probably know what works for you.  If not, then experiment to find out.  You can do yoga or stretching to relax the body and settle the mind.  You can light candles or incense to create a special atmosphere.  At the very least, you'll want to sit with your back straight and breathe deeply.  Also place or hold the speculum in such a way that you can look at it for a while without straining any muscles or stifling your breathing.  If you're of a religious bent, you might also want to say a prayer of protection and blessing for your efforts.  You can ask a question, or leave it up to your unconscious mind to show you what you need to see.
And then just...gaze.

At first, you'll be just looking at the speculum. And perhaps, if you're new to this, feeling just a little but silly.  You keep looking.  After a while, any number of changes could occur, depending on the person and the session.  (I know this isn't very helpful, so I'll name a few.)  Your eyes unfocus, so it feels like you're looking through or beyond the reflective surface rather than at it.  You may dissociate from your body somewhat--looking at your hands, they no longer look like your hands.   Maybe you see your face or objects or lights from the room reflected in the speculum, and they begin to morph into other shapes.  Maybe you see clouds or mists swirling about.  (These optical phenomena aren't the same as spontaneous visions--although a resourceful scryer can certainly use them as a handy springboard into a visionary state.)  As you continue to gaze, you slide gently into a trance or self-hypnotic state.  You're still fully conscious, but you're also completely open--open to all the images that are bubbling up to your attention.  The visions you see are not in the crystal or the water or the mirror--they're in your mind--but the scrying tool allows you to relax and concentrate enough to receive them.

See anything?  Great.  Write it down.  You don't have to compose quatrains like Nostradamus--keeping even sketchy notes will prove invaluable as you learn and grow.  Some people swear by voice recorders, which let them quickly record experiences after (or even during) a scrying session.  No matter how vivid your visions are, they will begin to fade almost immediately, and most will vanish completely unless you do the follow-up.

This is just the bare bones of scrying technique, obviously stripped of any ritual embellishments.  In the thousands of years that humans have been up to this, we've concocted a whole mess of practices and preparations that are supposed to improve the scryer or the speculum--but we'll cover some of those in a later post.

Now for a little troubleshooting:

I can't sit still and/or focus.
This is where habitual meditators are at a real advantage.  Scrying (and arguably magick) requires entering a liminal state that's qualitatively different from ordinary waking consciousness.  If you can't quiet your thoughts and relax your body at will, then you aren't going to have much success until you learn to do so.  Fortunately, it gets easier with practice.  Try gazing for just five minutes at a time, then slowly working your way up to 20 minutes.  Or, alternately, commit yourself to sitting with your speculum for 20 minutes, even if you don't see anything, even if all you do is breathe.  Personally, I think scrying, where you allow yourself to observe and follow images as they arise, is a lot more forgiving for the beginner than Eastern-style "blank mind" meditation.  Patience and persistence will be rewarded.

I've tried to scry, but I don't see anything.
Read the above, then realize that human physiology and psychology are on your side.  Countless studies have shown how our brains love to make images where there are none.  Remember that everyone has dreams (two to three hours per night!) and that learning to scry is not all that different from learning to dream with your eyes open.

Doing visualization exercises is one way to improve the clarity and duration.  There are many such exercises.  Some examples are trying to visualize a familiar object as concretely as possible, or trying to recall a group of objects seen once and then hidden away (Kim's game).

If you've put in an honest effort to develop your powers of visualization and still come up blank, then you may just want to consider that some people are more visually oriented than others.  Are you so determined to achieve sight that you're ignoring other senses?  When you scry, notice if you perceive any sounds, voices, smells, or physical sensations that are out of the ordinary.  Maybe your psychic senses are stronger in one of these forms.  You want to be persistent and self-critical, but not so much that you're banging your head against the wall when there's a door to your left, you know?

I see images, but they don't make any sense, or they don't seem to relate to me.
I think the dream analogy is helpful here, as well.  For example, one night you have a dream that accurately foretells a future event.  The next night, you dream that you're riding elephants on the moon while being chased by zombies.  The point is, the subconscious burps up a lot of a stuff and not all of it is Grade A psychic information.  But some of it is.  If you have visions while scrying, then write them down.  You just might be amazed when that McDonald's apple pie wrapper you saw last night shows up on the sidewalk tomorrow.  (True story.)  Sure, we'd all like it if our psychic senses gave us profound revelations all the time, but sometimes they latch onto the ridiculously mundane.  One more point:  Some scryers see images that literally correspond to people, places and events--but many, perhaps most, do not.  Instead, they rely on symbols to convey the necessary information.  Again, keeping a careful record will help you develop an understanding of your mind's own symbolic language.

I see things, but they're frightening and/or disturbing.
On the one hand, there are ugly and terrifying things in all the worlds that we have access to, and the seer's job is to approach them fearlessly and without judgement.   On the other hand, magickal and visionary work is not for everyone.  People with uncontrolled psychic sensitivity--as well as people with severe past trauma, addiction, and mental illness-- ought to approach this practice carefully, if at all.  If the balance of your visions leans toward the grotesque rather than the beautiful, or if the disturbing content is spilling over into your regular life, then stop it.  Learn some ways to cope with your challenges, and take a break from occult work if its forcing you to confront crap that you know you're not ready to deal with.

I fall asleep while scrying, or immediately afterward.
Maybe someone has some good advice on this one?  Because this was my biggest hurdle as a beginner, and still is a problem from time to time.  It's just too easy to slide from a nice deep trance into a drooling, snoring puddle of bliss--a bliss puddle which likely won't remember anything when it wakes up.  I would recommend sitting upright (as mentioned earlier), getting plenty of sleep at night, and maybe incorporating a cup of coffee or tea into the relaxation ritual.  (Though some purists eschew all drugs in spiritual practice, caffeine has been shown to improve concentration in studies, and has even been rumored to help keep a person awake!)

Hope this helps you on your way,

-M

Dr. Dee's scrying tools at the British Museum

The British Museum has a collection of occult items belonging to Dr. John Dee which, amazingly, have been preserved for over four hundred years.  These items were instrumental in what is certainly the best-recorded and most influential scrying operation in history.

Dr. John Dee (1527-1608/9) was a British mathematician, astrologer and magician who served as a consultant to Elizabeth I.  With the help of his scryer, Edward Kelley (1555-1597), he developed (some say received) the mind-bogglingly complex system of angelic magick called Enochian.  After a series of elaborate temple preparations and lengthy prayers, Dee would invoke God's angels and Kelley would relay communications from them.  Dee kept meticulous records, and there are lots of books and articles that tell the story of the entire seven-year operation.  I recommend Lon Milo Duquette's Enochian Vision Magick for its depth and accessibility.

It's really hard to overstate the importance of Dee and Kelley's work to the current Western tradition.  There's a lot of Enochian revivalism going on among ceremonial magicians, who appreciate the system's otherworldly power (and don't mind its verbosity).  But traces of the Enochian DNA are found in even in "earth-based" systems like Wicca, thanks to the influence of Aleister Crowley and the Golden Dawn at the beginning of the 20th century.

The objects are, from left: Dee's black obsidian mirror which was brought from North America; a quartz crystal sphere (6 cm in diameter), possibly the "chrystallum" described in Dee's manuscripts; two engraved wax seals, used to support the legs of the Holy Table used in the operation; large Sigillum Dei Aemeth (Seal of God's Truth), upon which Dee placed his "shew-stones"; gold disc engraved with the Vision of Four Castles experienced in by Kelley in 1584.

I visited the British Museum once as a child, but I breezed right past these objects, unaware of their immense historic and occult significance.  If I ever make it to London again, I'll definitely take a few moments to gawk at them.

More pictures, taken by a visitor to the museum.