Divination
A divining rod is just another word for a pen.
Life might be described as largely a matter of looking for signs.
Signs that someone likes you. Signs that someone doesn’t like you. Signs of a storm coming. Signs of care. Signs of food.
As an artist, you have to be especially attuned to the mysterious pulses around you. You hear things. You smell things. You’re a walking Ouija Board. You’re a lightning rod.
You’re a divining rod.
I’ve always been fascinated by divining rods.
Divining rods have been used throughout history to locate things like water, gems under the earth, or even criminals on the run. There are references to the use of divining rods in Herodotus, the writings of Marco Polo, and the Bible. In the Tassili Caves of northern Africa, an 8,000-year-old cave painting depicts a man holding a forked stick, apparently using it to search for water.
Some thought divining rods were a tool of the devil. Some thought they were a tool of angels. They were used by French authorities as late as 1703 to select Protestants for roasting.
But there’s the question of whether the power is in the rod or the “dowser” (another word for diviners).
Dowsers believe that objects possess a natural magnetic, electromagnetic, or other unknown energy that their senses can detect. The rod twists when the operator passes over underground water or minerals. To a dowser, sensing energy is a natural process that can be developed through practice.
Scientists have largely proven that dowsing doesn’t work, but Albert Einstein believed in it. He said, “I know very well that many scientists consider dowsing as they do astrology, as a type of ancient superstition. According to my conviction this is, however, unjustified. The dowsing rod is a simple instrument, which shows the reaction of the human nervous system to certain factors that are unknown to us at this time.”
It’s good for us to be open to forces that “are unknown to us at this time.”
Divining rod as pen
“Water witching” is much like story witching. A divining rod is a metaphor for a pen. You pick it up and channel the pulse of a story. You listen for your muse. You write a word, just for the heck of it, and then a few more words, and then you surrender yourself to them. They’re electromagnetic forces. They spark curiosity, wonder, play.
Intuition is a mysterious thing. Sometimes we know something as if we’ve lived it before. I like to believe in parallel universes. I like to think we’re living out infinite life possibilities all at once.
We’ve all felt these moments, right? Deja vu, but something more. De Chirico describes it: “One can deduce and conclude that every object has two aspects: one current one, which we see nearly always and which is seen by men in general: and the other, which is spectral and metaphysical and seen only by rare individuals in moments of clairvoyance.”
I wonder if instead of reading books and taking courses on how to write, we should take lessons from a fortune teller.
But we don’t need such lessons. We just need to practice sensing energy. We just need to open ourselves to such tinglings and let them take us over.
I read about how to be a dowser. There’s no dowser school, no dowser certificate. The answer is simple: “All that is needed is sensitivity, focus, and a quieted mind to discern the energy.”
Why not speak to ourselves in parallel universes?
Because a quote
“Our task is to listen to the news that is always arriving out of silence.”
~Rainer Maria Rilke
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I love this. I recently moved back to rural Iowa after 15+ years in San Francisco, and the "water department" (one guy) in my hometown witches for old water lines when he can't find them on the city's plans. Writing really does feel like a metaphysical act of revealing something we sense, unconsciously, but can't see. Thank you for writing this!
I can't remember where I read this or who said it: writing is like trying to capture a dream - it always seems just on the edge of our consciousness. This is what it feels like for me.