Readers, please enjoy this guest blog post by Thumper Forge, co-author of the new Virgo Witch.
My go-to method of fortune-telling is lithomancy: that is, divination with semi-precious stones. It’s something I picked up originally for no-nonsense, yes/no answers, but over time, I’ve been able to get fairly complex readings out of it, which never fails to surprise the hell out of me.
My friend Chester recently asked for a reading, and I was happy to comply, even though my Virgo brain did its best to interfere with anxiety and insecurities. (You can read more about both lithomancy and my neuro-spiciness in the new Virgo Witch, part of Llewellyn’s Witch’s Sun Sign Series.) But I breathed through the nerves, laid out my casting cloth, gently tossed the stones upon it, and took note of what they had to say.
Chester’s question involved career direction, and the stones just nailed it: He should continue working from home, but he should also establish a business partnership with someone experienced in his field, specifically someone with a branded online presence. Which was…a lot to get out of a random scattering of small rocks, but the message was undeniable.
Chester was happy with the reading, which was great, although he was a little less enthused by my reaction, which was to absolutely lose my damn mind over the accuracy. It just freaks me out sometimes when something that logically shouldn’t work—like divination—does work. And honestly, I know better than to let that show, especially when reading for other people. The problem was that I forgot how I play pool.
Not how to play pool in general, mind you, but how I play pool.
I love playing pool, but I legitimately have no billiard skills whatsoever. What I do have is preternatural luck—like, I’ll miss the ball that I’m aiming for, but in missing, I’ll somehow knock three other balls into pockets while simultaneously blocking any opportunity my opponent may have had. (It’s not the world’s most impressive X-Man power, but I feel like they’d let me on the team anyway.)
The first time it ever happened, I was like, “Wow! That was amazing, and I definitely did not mean to do it,” which, as you can imagine, did not go over well with the people playing against me. As such, I quickly learned to just hit the cue ball, impassively watch the highly improbable trick shot play out, and then just give a slight nod and move on. And if anyone expresses astonishment, I’ve trained myself to shrug noncommittally and gesture for the game to continue.
The same rules apply to divination. I don’t know how the stones are going to land when I throw them, but they’re going to give an answer. And the querent doesn’t need to know if I’m caught off guard by how precise that answer is—they just need to know the answer itself. All I am in this situation is the messenger, and nobody pays the messenger to crow about how great their delivery is.
So here’s my advice to you, born from awkward experience: Throw your stones, or pull your cards, interpret the message, and let your querent decide if the information provided is worth blowing a gasket over. And if it is—if your divination reveals a clearer truth than expected—let your querent’s feelings on the matter have the spotlight.
All you need to give in return is a slight nod and a shrug. Which I promise will be more than appreciated.
Our thanks to Thumper for his guest post! For more from Thumper Forge, read his article “Night of the Living Earth Sign: A Virgo Witch vs. the Zombie Apocalypse.”
