The "intuitive" cop-out: Thoughts from a recent Tarot class

So, I've been attending a Tarot meetup for a more than a year, and I love it--but I want to talk about something that's been bugging me from the beginning.  Now, the format of this get-together is kind of loose, and activities vary from week to week.  We pass around different books and decks, exchange readings, and share our experiences and methods.  Usually there's a fairly in-depth discussion segment, where we will consider traditional and alternative meanings for the cards, talk about their elemental and astrological correspondences, and decode some of the mythology and symbolism embedded in the images.

But almost every time, there's someone who becomes very resistant.  It's not the same person, but a succession of them. This visitor sits through the discussion, not contributing, then raises his or her hand and says,"All this information is well and good for you people, but I'm a natural intuitive and the cards speak to me despite the fact that I know nothing about them.  (And don't want to.)  In fact, I don't need any tools at all.  I read a person's vibes like a teleprompter, and I have a personal chat with Mother Universe every Saturday. If I were going to condescend to do a reading here--which I'm not--I promise you'd all be blown away."

Now, the rules of etiquette prohibit me from laying into these folks on the spot, so I'm going to do it here. Leaving aside the obvious insecurity bubbling up from this statement (and the obvious question, what are you doing in a Tarot study group?) it's time to call bullshit on self-styled intuitives who resist study, practice, and discipline.  One foundational occult maxim is "Know Thyself"--and Tarot is "yourself, turned inside out" (Trish Macgregor and Phyllis Vega, Power Tarot).  Deep study of the Tarot, or any organizing system of wisdom, can only make you bring you closer to self-knowledge and enhance your intuitive work.
 
Now, I'm not quibbling with those folks who use personal meanings for the cards that differ from the traditional ones, or those who take intuitive cues from visual elements in the cards.  Most, if not all, good readers do this.  And it is just as common to be too rigid when interpreting the Tarot as it is to be too loose.  What I'm reacting to is the implication that some students are less wise, less intuitive, because they have the commitment to take notes, read books, exchange ideas and debate with others.  As if careful, persistent examination of one's spiritual path could diminish its beauty and mystery.  As if it were even possible to diminish something so beautiful and mysterious as the Tarot.  The anti-intellectualism that pervades the pagan/New Age arena is a pernicious, eroding influence.  Intuitive and intellectual faculties are not mutually exclusive.  The best diviners--the best practitioners of any magical art--are the ones who can synthesize all the parts: knowledge gained from study, wisdom gained from living in the world, and intuition gained in the moment.

What's the matter with tap water? A no-nonsense approach to water-scrying

 Okay, so I'm generally pretty tolerant of other people's magical rules and guidelines.  After all, magic and divination are very subjective arts, and have long been taught through word of mouth and tradition.  This means that there's a wealth of folklore associated with them.  Unfortunately, this also means that there are some truisms that are speculative, dogmatic, or just plain stupid--and they will never die.  Instead, they get propagated in book after book or repeated online as gospel.  My current favorite:  Never, ever use tap water for water-scrying.

Obviously, water that comes out of the faucet at the turn of the handle is just too mundane and accessible to fill your scrying bowl.  Proper water must be gathered from a lake or stream, under a full moon, preferably from a sacred site after asking the blessings of the local fairies.  (Rainwater is reputedly acceptable, as well--which is great news unless you happen to be in Texas in the summer.  Ahem.)  Never have I heard or read a satisfactory explanation for "gathered" water is necessary to produce visions.  But I have a couple of theories that sound plausible:  Maybe pond scum contains little-known psychoactives that are good for scrying.  Or maybe the undines get filtered out at the water-treatment plant.  Maybe making your whole room smell like a lake is essential for getting in touch with the element of Water.  I wonder, if I just get a bowl and fill it with my tears of frustration, would that be okay for scrying?

Now, I'm making fun, and perhaps being a little bit harsh.  If doing a preparation ritual is valuable to you, if it seems essential to your scrying practice, then do it.  However, if you're like me and (I suspect) most people, it's hard enough to find half an hour to dim the lights and close the door.  Never mind finding the time harvest the right water.  Also, these days most pagans/occultists are urban folks.  Unless you happen to have a nice babbling brook within walking distance, gathering water means driving somewhere.  That uses our finite fuel resources and pollutes the air and water, and how do you think the undines feel about that?

And before we start talking about the transformative power of ritual, lets not forget that too often, all these rules and rituals become an excuse for avoiding practice:  "Ooh, I want to learn to scry, but first I need to save up for that pewter cauldron and moonstone necklace, then I need to wait till the next full moon so I can go harvest some moonwater."  No you fuckin' don't.  Just grab that glass that came with the Jim Beam, turn on the tap, and go to town.  It's better than nothing, and the pewter cauldron will still be there when you're ready for it.

Also--I'm not jaded about tap water.  Tap water is pretty damn cool.  There are billions of people in this world who would love to not have to walk to some creek to get water.  So try some gratitude, water snobs. Also, if you just take a minute to think about the miracle of the water cycle, you realize pretty quickly that water is water.  That "ordinary" stuff coming out of your faucet has been in clouds and waves and dinosaur veins and toilet bowls.  All water is magical, whether it comes out of the tap or the well of fuckin' Avalon.

Now, I like pretty tools as much as the next person  But there's a difference between appreciating the beauty of tools, and fetishizing them.  To externalize the process of magic too much is disempowering to the practitioner.  When you experience visions they are (depending on who you ask) in your head, in the ether, reflecting off your aura--but they're not literally in a bowl of water, tap or otherwise.  The only reason that tap water won't work for scrying is if you believe that it won't work for scrying.  And you shouldn't believe that, because it's just dumb.

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?

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.