It is said that scrying, receiving spiritual messages with mirrors or candles or crystals or smoke, is the most difficult form of visioning. And yet, many eschew our tarot decks and astrological charts when we are in need of guidance, and choose these more mystic tools. And even within the world of scrying, there is a hierarchy. Water is perhaps the easiest, though it often shows what we want to see. Fire is powerful, but often lies. And only, it is said, the most deeply connected and wise can scry the wind. I have used them all, along with flame and wine, and find them powerful.
At times, however I find myself seduced by the rocks that surround me. From the red rocks near Mesa Verde, to the deep layers in the Grand Canyon, to the walls built of hewn stone in Tzfat (Safed) and Jerusalem, rocks have called to me with song, and prayer and taught me ancient rituals. These rocks laugh at humans who expect to dominate and control the world, knowing that it is water and fire and wind that truly shape our destiny.
Even though I am sure all rocks sing I cannot always hear them. I expected the rocks at Petra to hum just like the rocks at the Colorado Canyons, but to me they were silent, almost dead. The rocks in Israel, however, either in place or carved into blocks for walls or buildings, sang and chanted and prayed and whispered secrets of the past.
Rocks jump into my hands as I hike, snuggling into the hollow of my palm and purring with contentment. They journey home with me and settle around my fire pit, offering their services when I am in need of deep wisdom. I light the fire, perhaps set a crystal glass of wine on edge so I can see the flame dancing in the liquid, and hold a stone close to my heart as I stroke its rough surface. And I listen.