Crystal Ball

Crystallomancy is just what you think it is: the ability to accurately read a crystal or crystal ball and it's something I've always wanted to be able to do. Last week I bought myself my first crystal ball, a pristine clear dusky purple crystal that also reads blue in some light. I held an amazing clear quartz ball and an even more incredible amethyst ball but they were loaded with striations that I felt would make my first attempts at reading more difficult. That and their exorbitant price tags. I mean, what if I don't ever get the hang of this? How could I justify spending that much money on what would become merely a gorgeous paperweight, albeit one with really great energy?

So I spent some time handling and getting to know my new crystal ball, then I carefully cleansed it and a few days later sat down one evening for my first try at reading it. I'm aware that this form of divination is considered to be one of the most difficult to master, so I was prepared for a challenge. But seriously, this was hard. To begin with, I had trouble with my light source and despite fussing with my candles and dimming the room lights up and down, and up and down again and again for a good twenty minutes or so, I never truly did find a comfortable amount of light with which to work. I relaxed and grounded and then threw up around me a bubble of safety. And at last I was ready to try to read. Sigh. I managed to find my soft eyes, that sort of pre-trance, almost day-dreamy feeling I get when I read auras or do a visualized journey. But an hour later I had seen nothing at all, not even a wisp, and I had managed to give myself a bit of a sore neck and a violent and unexpected case of extreme nausea that took more than two horrible hours to subside.

Needless to say, my ball and I have kept a fairly respectful distance from one another since that night while I await the arrival of three new books on mastering the art of crystal gazing since I think it best I not try my hand at this again without at least a small amount of guidance beforehand. I'm anxious to give it as many tries as I need in order to begin to actually see something, but I'd prefer to do it without incapacitating myself for hours on end. Trust me, nothing is worth feeling the way I did that night, not even foretelling a strange and glorious future. And until my books arrive, I'll just have to admire my beautiful new purple-blue paperweight safely from across the room.

John William Waterhouse, The Crystal Ball, 1902 (detail)

The Tools and Rules of Ritual

I tend to lean towards the simple when it comes to the accoutrements of ritual. I find myself routinely skimming through catalogs, both paper and online, checking out all the wands, clothing and altar tools, but when it comes to actually putting them to use in my own life, it's just not my thing. I'd never knock another witch for their own preferences but for me less is definitely more.

I don't have an athame or a wand, nor do I own a white handled knife. When I cast a circle, I use my hand and when I need to cut herbs I use an old knife that belonged to my father who was an executive chef. My utility knife has a very worn brown wooden handle and a blade that's been sharpened countless times over many decades, but it speaks to my heart and when I use it my father is right there with me. I will admit that I have thought about finding a lovely fallen branch and crafting it into a wand but I haven't yet done this, probably because I know that I most likely wouldn't use it in ritual. Perhaps one day I'll make one anyways.

My circle altar has no fancy statues or decorations. I don't use special silver and gold goddess/god candles, but one simple fat white pillar to represent them both. I haven't a special dish or chalice so my offerings of food are served up on a plain dish and in a simple cup. I do have a nice incense burner because I grind my own incense rather than use sticks, but that's about the only thing that I've purchased from a shop. My cauldron is an antique that took me years to find, plain cast iron without any fussiness, and used for centuries by women who came before me.

And in circle I keep myself as simple as my tools. I've read about a gajillion books by witches and I have to say that while most of the authors are extraordinary in their talents and knowledge, they're also all utterly delusional. While it would be wonderful to have the time to bathe in a tub full of purifying oils by candlelight prior to circle, who actually has that kind of time? I'm lucky to have the time to cast a circle at all. I try to always wash my face and brush my teeth beforehand, but if I have to choose between the time for ritual and the time for cleansing myself in preparation for it, I'm going to choose circle every time. And given that I bathe every day, I seriously doubt that I'm so filthy as to insult the divine ones. I don't wear any special robes or clothing, but I am always barefoot. I've read in a few books that there is a "rule" about never wearing any hair adornments while in circle, but when I had long hair I always wore it pulled back and out of the way. I'd rather be breaking some silly rule than setting my head on fire. Sometimes common sense far outweighs the romantic notions set forth by those who revel in making ritual as intricate as it can possibly be.

There's something to be said for stripping it all down to the plainest way possible. Remove the glamour and you're left with what is most important, what it's all about. What so many might find boring is what speaks volumes to my soul and that's good enough for me.