Dissecting the "P" word: What's wrong with "psychic"?

Over the years, I've encountered a lot of people who do metaphysical work of one kind or another and are uncomfortable with the word "psychic."  I'm definitely one of them.  Just hearing the term makes my eyebrows tilt inward, and saying it makes my hands leap up into involuntary air quotes.  So, I'd like to spend some time unpacking the word--what it really means, and what about it makes people's skin crawl.  This may seem like a semantic rabbit hole I'm going down here, but bear with me.

1. So, let's start with the obvious knock against "psychic"--its connotations are kind of sleazy.  Sure, it's Greek for "of the soul," but somehow that noble word got saddled with images of ugly neon signs and the back pages of irreputable magazines.  (Thanks, Miss Cleo.) The fact that some jurisdictions require the disclaimer "for entertainment purposes only" from psychic readers does the word further injury.  People who believe that they have genuine abilities just don't want their god-given talents confused with the smooth dealings of a cold reader or mentalist.  It's no wonder you see so many business cards for the "intuitive counselor" and the "angelic life coach" around town, with nary a "psychic" to be found.

2. "Psychic" is divisive, especially when used as a noun. It implicitly divides people into two categories--those who are and those who aren't--when most people agree that psychic talents exist on a continuum.  Furthermore, the word can have an unpleasant ring for people whose gifts manifested early in life.  Many of us have always felt weird or different, and chances are, the first word we learned that described our otherness was "psychic."  Maybe the word got slapped on us when we accidentally displayed our talents in some way that caught the notice of family or friends.   Maybe we heard it applied to an alien species on television and thought, "That's it.  I must be from another planet."  Now, as adults, we can deal with the fact that we are different--if only because of the fact that not everybody believes in or studies this stuff.  (Whether everybody is or can be psychic is a whole 'nother can of worms, which we'll have to savor later.)  But the word draws attention to the difference in a way that belies how common psychic experiences are to human beings--and brings back crummy memories, besides.

3. "Psychic" is unspecific.  There are just too many psychic gifts, all trying to crowd under that one umbrella term.  There's the "big four" which have been most extensively studied (clairvoyance, precognition, telepathy, and psychokinesis) and many more which are on the fringes (mediumship, psychic vampirism, extraterrestrial communication, and energy work of all flavors).  There are people who have psychic dreams, psychic feelings in their big toe, and people who claim not to have any psychic ability at all, but have mad skills when you hand them a deck of tarot cards.  So describing a person as "psychic" is like calling someone "creative."  It's mildly descriptive, but it doesn't provide a whole lot of information about what it is that they actually do--do they paint, do they make windchimes out of beer cans, or what?

4. "Psychic" is a pretty stiff claim, the kind that raises the hackles of skeptics and even moderate believers.  Me, I like to think of myself as a thinking occultist, one of an elite fraternity of seekers who aren't out to scam people or massage our own egos.  One of the markers of this fraternity is that we are hell-bent on being honest and forthcoming about what we can and cannot do.  And precision of language is a big part of that.  Thus, I'm comfortable saying that I have psychic experiences, even frequent ones--but to round that up to "I'm psychic" feels like an extravagant claim that I can't really back up, especially not to the harshest skeptics.  (Say "psychic," and those folks hear "omniscient.")  Most psychic events are spontaneous and kind of random, but claiming to be psychic implies the ability to gain information at will--in a deliberate, consistent and focused way.  I'm certainly not there yet, and furthermore, I've never met anyone who is.

5. I've saved my biggest objection for last:  The whole concept of psychic ability is an extremely limited (and limiting) paradigm.  Dean Radin expresses it best in Entangled Minds, when he says that we need to stop thinking of psychic phenomena powers of the mind, but instead as properties of the universe.  This is an incredibly important and overlooked point.  To focus our amazement on abilities "possessed" by an individual is to miss the truly amazing realities they imply--a splendid unity and complexity in the universe, properties of time and space that are almost beyond imagining.  In other words, the next time you have a so-called psychic perception, the conclusion you should be drawing is not "I'm special" but rather, "This world I'm a part of is incredible."

So, that's just a handful of my reservations about the word "psychic."  (Whew.  I feel much better now.)  I'm not saying nobody should use the word, or even proposing an alternative. I'm just enumerating the ways I find the term problematic, and why I can't quit doing those douche-y air quotes when I say it.  I'd be interested in reading some others' opinions.  Do you use the word "psychic" to describe yourself?  Why or why not?

Legendary scryers: Frederick Hockley

Frederick Hockley (1809-1885) was a British occultist who was particularly fascinated with the practice of summoning spirits into crystals and mirrors.  His other interest included alchemy, Rosicrucianism, and later in life, Freemasonry.  An accountant by trade, he spent much of his free time visiting the British library and transcribing magical texts for his vast personal library.  Hockley's meticulously recorded scrying sessions spanned several decades.  In a lecture given in 1854, he claims to have thirty years of experience with crystallomancy.  Assuming he began in 1824, his practice predates both the Spiritualist movement and the Victorian occult revival spearheaded by the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.

 Despite his lifelong interest in the practice, Hockley apparently was not himself a gifted scryer.  Instead, he relied on the talent of a clairvoyant assistant (usually a young woman acting under hypnosis), who he termed his "speculatrix."  His most fruitful such partnership was with Emma Louisa Leigh, who began scrying for Hockley around the age of thirteen, and who died at the age of twenty.  Through her, Hockly received the answers to over 1,000 questions posed by him to a purportedly ascended spirit being, who he called C.A. (for Crowned Angel).  The result is a lengthy philosophical and cosmological document, which certainly exceeds what a Victorian girl of Leigh's age and education could be expected to generate.

Hockley published no books during his lifetime.  His output was in the form of lectures, letters and essays on magic and mysticism.  He was reputedly a generous lender of his personal library, and kept up an active correspondence with students and colleagues on the topics that interested him.  Virtually the only component of his practice that he did not share was the collection of spiritual diaries that detailed his scrying sessions.  These were dispersed after his death, and the contents mostly lost.  Of the thirty or more notebooks he is said to have compiled, only a few excerpts transcribed by one of his associates have survived.

However, we can gather some of his methods from the book "Invocating by Magic Crystals and Mirrors."  This short treatise originated as a hand-scribed and illustrated manuscript which Hockley presented for the medium Barbara Honywood (herself an accomplished watercolorist), probably to try and inspire her to scry for him.  Hockley was a devout Christian, and grew more and more devoted as a result of his lifelong work with spiritual entities.  Thus his tracts contain effusive prayers, invocation of angelic spirits, and precise formulae for the proper consecration of ritual objects.  For would-be scryers, Hockley prescribes a life of abstinence and piety in order to avoid the physical and mental problems that seemed to have befallen many clairvoyants and mediums of Hockley's day.

Maybe this speaks more to my ignorance that his obscurity, but I hadn't heard of Frederick Hockley until fairly recently.  His works are not much in print, and for that reason I think he's often overlooked.  It is almost certain that Hockley's manuscripts were circulated widely among members of the Golden Dawn, and strongly influenced the development of that organization.  Hockley also stands as a transitional figure between the venerable tradition of Renaissance magic whose grimoires he studied, and the eclectic occult revival which was soon to follow him.  For those who are interested in learning more about this fascinating figure (and who have moderately deep pockets), occult publisher Teitan Press is currently in the process of putting out some truly covetable fine editions of his major works.  Or, you can check out the book The Rosicrucian Seer (out of print, but available as used paperback and also online if you poke around), which compiles some of Hockley's papers into a single volume.

Further reading:

Teitan Press's Frederick Hockley Series.
Hamill, J.  The Rosicrucian Seer: The Magical Writings of Frederick Hockley (1986).
Samuel Scarborough. "Frederick Hockley: A Hidden Force behind the 19th Century Occult Revival" Journal of the Western Mystery Tradition 14:2. (2008).

Pagan annoyances, or demons I'd like to banish

 It can't all be sweetness and light.  Sometimes associating with the pagan/occult community can drive me to the end of my rope, so please indulge me in a bit of vitriol.  Here's three things that have been trying my patience lately:

Whining.  I get so tired of listening to people grouse about being so persecuted for the pagan path that they chose, and presumably enjoy.  So, Mom doesn't like that you go out to the woods to burn shit and dance naked?  Big deal!  (Unlesss you're fifteen)  You aren't comfortable discussing your Samhain plans with coworkers?  Boo hoo.  Save your outrage for the real injustices.  And please shut up about the Burning Times, capital B capital T.  I'm willing to bet that neither you nor anyone you've ever known has ever been in danger of being burned alive for your beliefs.  If you're living somewhere you can safely read this post, you're living somewhere that free speech and religious liberty have at least a fighting chance--for which you should be thanking every god you can think of.  So walk your chosen path with strength and integrity and quit expecting a pat on the back from everyone. 

Cheap, crappy incense.  Ah, there's nothing like wafting, fragrant smoke to set a sacred space and lift the spirit to higher places.  Unless your incense of choice is waxy sawdust doused with cloying solvent.  Here's how to tell if your incense is shit:  Does it come from a Renn Faire, dollar store, or head shop?  Does it smell like a bowl of grandma's potpourri (and grandma's been dead for 15 years)?  Anyway, good incense is like good pizza--just a couple bucks more, and totally worth it.

Eco-fascism. I live in a place that is plagued by swarms of mosquitoes in the summer.  Every year, we have local outbreaks of West Nile virus, which is transmitted by mosquitoes and which can be fatal.  I'm extremely susceptible to the bites (swollen limbs, sleepless nights, etc.), so I buy big spray can of insect repellent and carry it everywhere between May and September.  And it works.  Better than any solution I've tried before, anyway.  But at pagan gatherings, I courteously step away from the group to douse myself, and return to a chorus of unsolicited counsel:

"Oh, you should try eating more garlic.  Then you won't have to use that stuff."
 "You know what works great for mosquitoes?  Orange oil and clove oil." (No it doesn't.)
"Have you tried this organic brand?" (Hell no!)
Me: "No, what's the active ingredient?"
"Ummm..." (Because there isn't one.)

Yeah, I get it: The Earth is our mother and our home.  But let's not be ridiculous--every creature alive is programmed to look out for its immediate survival.  That's the way Momma Earth intended it, and that's what I plan to do.  So here, have some Diethyl M-Toluamide: Fffwwwwwwssssssssssssssshhhhhhhh.  You can thank me later.

Legendary scyers: Jeane Dixon

Before Sylvia Browne and James Van Praagh were camping out on late-night cable, there was Jeane Dixon (1904-1997), one of the first celebrity psychics of the modern era.  Dixon, now best known for her alleged prediction of the Kennedy assassination, reached millions of Americans through her syndicated newspaper column and popular autobiographies.   A professed Catholic who often wore a prominent crucifix, Dixon maintained that her prophetic abilities were a gift from God, and not in conflict with her Christian beliefs.  She rode a wave of increased interest in psi phenomena in the 1960s to a position of considerable influence.  Richard Nixon followed her predictions and met with her in person at least once, and she also advised Nancy Reagan during Reagan's White House years.

 Dixon made her predictions by gazing into a large, clear crystal ball in which she claimed to see scenes of future events.  The psychic, who had a penchant for self-mythologizing, claimed that a gypsy gave her the crystal when she was young and told her she would become a famous seer.  She made some correct public predictions which captivated believers, and some notable belly flops which caught the notice of the skeptics.  (The year 2000 came and went without a World War with China, a female U.S. president, or a cure for cancer.)  In the skeptical lexicon, her name is attached to the "Jeane Dixon effect"--the fallacy by which a psychic's "hits" are publicized and "misses" are downplayed or ignored, creating the illusion of accuracy.

Whether her talents were genuine or not, Dixon's legacy is that of a unique historic personage (and something of a kitsch icon).  Her prop of choice, that large crystal ball, fetched almost $12,000 in a 2009 auction of her personal effects.

Further reading:

Montgomery, Ruth.  A Gift of Prophecy: The Phenomenal Jeane Dixon (1965).
Dixon, Jeane.  My Life and Prophecies (1969).

Nineteen things that might help you scry, and one thing that definitely will

"Crystal-gazing shows how a substratum of fact may be so overlaid with mystic mummeries, incantations, fumigations, pentacles: and so overwhelmed in superstitious interpretations, introducing fairies and spirits, that the facts run the risk of being swept away in the litter and dust of nonsense." - Andrew Lang, Cock Lane and Common-Sense (1894)

Having read even a handful of books or articles on divination, I'm sure you'll immediately notice two things--authors tend to have strong opinions about what works, and their advice can be quite divergent and even contradictory.  For example, some people believe that it's difficult (or unlucky!) to read tarot cards for yourself, and other people maintain just the opposite point of view.  And since we're talking about the metaphysical here, there's no way to prove one right and the other wrong.  Here's a compilation of some of the "must do's" that I've seen or read over time:

• Leave your crystal, mirror or bowl out under the full moon to absorb its influence.
• Burn an incense that's suitable for your work. (Sandalwood, mace, and bay are some that are traditional for divination.)
• Invoke a god or spirit who can help you see what you desire.
• Inscribe your tool with prayers, words of power, sigils, or other formulas to enhance their efficacy.
• Gather scrying water from a sacred spring or other outdoor source.
• Place a light source behind you, so that it's indirectly reflected in the surface in front of you.
• Place a dark cloth or box around the speculum, so that no light is reflected in.
• Scry on a Monday.
• Scry during the full moon waxing moon, appropriate planetary hour, or astrologically favorable time.
• Scry at night, when your mind is closer to a hypnogogic state.
• Scry during the day, when you're less likely to fall asleep.
• Store your speculum wrapped your speculum in silk, to insulate it from outside influences.
• Rub mugwort on your speculum, smoke it, or drink it as a tea.  (Obviously, do your research before you ingest any herb.)
• Use chanting, drumming or singing to help you acheive trance.
• Make your own scrying mirror, so it will be uniquely imprinted with your essence and intention.
• Sleep with your tool under your pillow.
• Anoint your tool with a drop of your own blood to enhance the bond.
• Be a woman.  (Yes, it's a long-standing belief that women are more naturally seers, even though most of the famous ones throughout history have been men.)
• Recite a spell or rhyme before you sit down to scry.

And the one thing that will definitely help?

• Practice. (Duh.)

So far, I've avoided harping on the importance of regular, persistent practice in developing the ability to scry.  It's boring and obvious, and restating it over and over doesn't make it any easier to stick to.  But here it is, for the record:  The way to learn and grow in an occult discipline (or any discipline, really) is to do it--do it until you break through your resistances, do it until you find the methods that work for you, do it until your beginner's luck gives way to reliable proficiency.

As for the other ideas?  Some of them may work for you--the only way to know is to try them and see.  Just don't try them all at once.  Pick one or two at a time and keep a record of the results--that way you know what practices correlate with good results.  You can't really be scientific, but you can at least be systematic.

Ripples in a pond: Lecanomancy

Lecanomancy (from Greek lecane, "dish" or "pan") is the practice of divination by dropping objects into water.  The diviner observes the sound or shape of the water to gather omens about the future or distant present.  Stones or precious gems may be dropped in the water, and their ripples noted.  Or, the diviner may pour oil or dark colored liquid into clear water, and interpret the shapes formed as it pours.  Lecanomancy is closely related to water-scrying, and at times the two methods may overlap.  Unlike, say, tea-leaf reading, I haven't been able to find a source explaining what different types of ripples traditionally mean.  Which suggests that lecanomancy, like scrying, is mainly dependent on the seer's intuition and judgement, rather than on a prescribed set of rules.

Lecanomancy was recorded first in ancient Greece, where natural springs were considered to be sacred to the gods and good for scrying.  The popular practice of throwing coins into "wishing wells" may be descended from a European custom in which a maiden would drop a piece of gold into a well in order to catch a glimpse of her future husband.  Here's an example of a modern lecanomantic ritual, from the book Healing Crystals by Cassandra Eason:

For personal divination, ask a question and drop five moonstones into a crystal bowl of water lit by the moon or by silver candles. The ripples as each falls into the water will suggest an image in your mind’s eye and the five images will answer your question.

On her website, Eason also recommends scattering herbs across the surface of the scrying vessel, then reading the clusters of herbs, or the space in between.  Another tradition is to drop a shiny coin or pebble into the basin, then gaze at the submerged object instead of the water's surface.  Similarly, I've heard of painting a spot on the bottom of the vessel and fixing the eyes on the wavering point.  And recently I stumbled across this so-called Tibetan scrying bowl:  It has handles attached to the sides, which allow the scryer to gently agitate the surface of the water by gripping them with the hands.

Having read and experimented with water-scrying fairly widely, I've come to the conclusion that it is often useful to disrupt the surface of still water with one of the methods discussed.  A smooth plane of water can be too reflective--or just too blank.  Ripples, submerged objects, etc., can act as points of entry for the scryer to same way that rainbows, fractures, and inclusions in crystal are sometimes helpful.  Water has an advantage, though, in that you can disrupt it as much or as little as you need to in order to create the perfect canvas for your visions to emerge.