He showed me a squat cup made from folded paper. Crude, but effective, and most of all, devoid of external influences. He put the fourteen cowrie shells in the cup, shook them, and turned the cup upside down on the table swiftly.
“Ask your question, has to be a Yes or No kind of thing.”
“Will I learn something out of this demonstration?”
He laughed in sincere enjoyment at my snark. “Good question! Snark for snark, then? The shells will teach you how to read the answer.” He lifted the cup and fourteen cowrie shells tumbled out in a loose pile. “Don’t touch! They are where they are. Your shells are loud, let’s see if you’ve been listening.”
I looked over the pile, the tightness of it, the stray shells that slid away, which ones were slit up, which ones were slit down. He said this was a ‘Yes or No’ divination, but I saw the grays between black and white.
“Yes, but it won’t be what I wanted to learn from it. There are things here for me to grasp, if I’m willing to dig through the surface instruction to search for it. There are other things that will escape me, this time.”
He crossed his arms and nodded. “If I forced you into a one-word answer?”
“The answer is ‘Yes’.”
“And if I forced you to qualify that answer?”
“The answer is ‘Yes, but it won’t all be what I expected.’”
“What if I just came up and told you to tell me a thing using the shells like this?”
“I’d make you come up with a pertinent question worded for this style.”
“You should do that elsewhere.” He nodded and tapped the side of his nose. Before I could rebut him, he placed a box on the table. “Here, since you’re heavy handed, use this box to practice in before using the tray. The tray doesn’t have high walls, and you’ll lose shells before you’ve learned how to be gentle.”
He scooped up the shells into the paper cup again. The interior of the box was marked with a circle that was as large as the box would allow. The circle was marked like pie slices, that varied in count as I watched. The slices were given labels, some symbolic like astrological signs, some written in tiny lettering. These also changed in definition as I watched.
“Sometimes, you’ll need all fourteen. Sometimes, you need only one. Fit the method to the question within reason. If the question is poorly worded or just plain bullshit, deny it.” He spoke sample questions and the markings in the box adjusted to best answer his question. After each question, he would ask me how many shells were needed to answer and to explain how to read their tumbling.
He gave me the box, the crumpling paper cup, and the shells. “Go practice.”
I practiced.
He was right to have me use the high-walled box at first. I do not have a subtle hand.
“Your time grows short, so I will only tease you and leave you wanting.” I mocked him by moaning in deprived lust. He laughed with hearty peals. “It’s good you are able to have fun.” He placed a wood platter on the table. It was the size of a dinner plate, but two fingers deep. The slightly recessed interior was perfectly flat and round. There were no markings on the oiled wood. The ridge felt more decorative than functional.
“You will have this. One way or the other. But you will have this. Recognize it?”
I shook my head. He smiled. He handed me the shells and made an elaborate show of hands to show me he held nothing. Rubbing his hands over the wood platter, something like fine sand or salt flowed from his hands to the wood. After pouring enough to cover the interior completely, he flipped the platter like a cook flipping a pan, moving the sand around until it covered the bottom in an even layer.
I recognized what he was doing, but said nothing. What I suspected is forbidden to me.
He smiled and winked, reading my thoughts and teased, “No one is teaching you that, girl. And even I am not teaching you anything you don’t already know. Besides, how can I teach that when I don’t know it myself!” At that moment, I recognized who my demonstrator is, this time. He laughed again at my startled face.
“You have loud shells, girl. Listen to them more.”