What is scrying? A question I’m asked regularly.
Scrying is an ancient form of divination, gazing into a reflective or moving surface to receive insight, guidance, or symbolic imagery. Across cultures, people have long turned to water, mirrors, crystals, smoke, and fire to open intuitive channels of perception.
At its heart, scrying isn’t about predicting the future, it’s about listening to intuitive insights. It invites us to quiet the mind and enter a receptive state where images, sensations, or impressions arise naturally, like reflections forming and dissolving on the surface of water.
The Call of the Stream
In full transparency, I’ve never taken any scrying workshops and it wasn’t something I’d considered (although I’ve experienced extensive holistic training since I was in my 20s). My own scrying practice occurred unexpectedly and developed instinctively over time. In September 2017, I moved back to the UK to live in Cornwall after the purchase of the land where I live with my husband. For a couple of years, I found myself drawn again and again to the same spot at the top of the stream—a large granite stone block with a hole through its centre, where water from the lake trickles into the beginning of a narrow stream. The flow spills over the granite in a soft, silvery thread, forever changing yet constant in its rhythm. I was magnetised to this spot. And to this day, I still am.
At first, I simply sat on the granite and listened, drawn by the quiet music of the place, the glimmer of light, the sense of peace it offered. Each time I walked away I felt lighter and clearer. Gradually, the act of watching deepened. The rippling surface began to seem responsive, aware, as if the stream itself were quietly observing me in return.
Then something curious began to happen. As I sat by the water, I often felt a strong, benevolent presence nearby, so tangible that I would turn around, certain someone was standing just behind me. Yet no one was ever there. This happened several times, until one day I finally asked aloud, “Who are you?” The reply came not as a sound, but as a clear, inner knowing: “Think of me as the deva of the stream.”
A deva, from the Sanskrit for ‘shining one’ is understood in many spiritual traditions as a nature spirit, a conscious, living presence within the natural world. Each landscape, each element, carries its own spirit. In that moment, I understood what I was sensing was the living spirit of this particular stream, aware, intelligent, and benevolent. From then on, my time at the edge of the stream became a meeting with a companion of flowing light and presence.
Entering the Scrying State: Preparing for connection
Now, when I come to the stream, I begin by greeting the deva who I perceive as the spirit of the stream. I’m sure others would have different interpretations, based on their own experiences. I offer gratitude and ask for permission and support, acknowledging I’m entering a shared space. This act of respect transforms the experience from a personal exercise into a conversation with a living consciousness.
I sit quietly, slow my breathing, and let the sounds of water and touch of the breeze on my face guide me inward. When my eyes soften and my thoughts drift, the boundary between myself and the stream begins to blur. My awareness expands, alert yet deeply calm. Gradually I found myself receiving extremely clear intuitive guidance and insights, almost as if I was attending a personal session with a medium—and yes—the medium being water. Over time, I was guided to work with a glass bowl I made or a beautiful chalice, allowing the water to trickle into the receptacle and gaze at the water. This is the state in which scrying begins, a delicate balance of attention and surrender.
Water as a mirror and a messenger
The stream is never still. It glides over the granite, shimmering with reflections of cloud, tree, and sky. Sometimes, sunlight catches in the hole through the stone, turning the trickle into a glowing thread of light. As I gaze into the chalice or bowl, the flowing surface begins to reveal patterns and shapes, faces, wings, waves, or landscapes appearing for a heartbeat before dissolving. I don’t try to control what I see. I simply let the imagery come and go, trusting the spirit of the stream shares what I am ready to receive.
Each session feels like a dialogue, a subtle exchange of energy and meaning. The water becomes both mirror and teacher, reflecting not only the world around me but the movements of my own inner tides.
Interpreting the messages
Meaning unfolds as I focus on my breath and concentrate my gaze into the water. As I’ve explained before, until I received direct guidance in a dream one surprising night about offering streams of inspiration for others, it wasn’t something I’d imagined. These occur during winter and early spring when the flowing stream is in full force.
When recording a ‘Stream of Inspiration’ for a client I record my impressions directly onto an audio and then email to them. It’s magical how these transmissions from a Cornish stream trickle all over the world. Frequently, I have no idea whether an impression or symbol is literal or figurative but simply say what I see and sense. Often, I’m amused to hear back from a recipient about how literal a message might have been. For myself, often a symbol or feeling will return later in a dream, a passing thought, or a quiet moment of clarity in the shower. Patterns often reveal themselves over time. Nature interacts in these sessions in a multiple of ways; a rabbit or squirrel might suddenly appear, and birds and insects land on a branch next to me whilst I’m relaying a detail. For example, I might be talking about transformation and a dragonfly will appear, or the call to a new adventure and a rustling in the gorse will surprise me and it’s a deer. They are a specific messenger or I will find myself unable to look away from a tree or flower and receive a precise message for the recipient of the recording.
Some images feel deeply personal, while others carry the calm, creative wisdom of the element itself. Through these glimpses, I’ve learned scrying is less about seeing visions and more about entering a relationship of trust between my limited perception and the living spirit of water.
Lessons from the Stream
Years of returning to that same spot have taught me scrying is a form of devotion. The stream changes with the seasons, a silver trickle in summer, a flowing, energetic rush in winter and through it all, the deva, the spirit of the stream remains, steady and benevolent.
This practice has taught me to listen rather than ask, to observe whatever arises without expectation. I approach these sessions with a curious neutrality, and acknowledge the sacred in the simplest movements of nature. The stream’s spirit has become both companion and guide, reminding me wisdom flows most freely when approached with reverence and patience.
An invitation for you
If you feel called to try water scrying, you don’t need a stream or a granite stone. A simple bowl of water by candlelight, moonlight or under sunlight can become a sacred mirror if approached with openness and respect.
Before you begin, pause. Breathe. Introduce yourself to the water, however you understand it. Ask permission to the spirit of water, offer thanks for all water offers, and gaze softly. Let images rise and fade without grasping for meaning.
Notice what stirs within you as much as what appears before you. You could hold a question in your heart and direct this question to the spirit of water and see what arises. Jot down any insights into your journal. If you don’t have a specific question, simply ask “What do I need to know or be aware of, for my highest good, at this time?” Listen. Feel any sensations. As you feel the time come to completion, give thanks to the spirit of water, as you return to water to the earth outside, possibly to a favourite tree or plant.
Scrying, at its essence, is a way of remembering our ancient conversation with the living world, listening with all our senses and seeing with the heart.
I’ve been asked in recent years if I would be open to teaching. In the second half of 2026, I’m contemplating offering a weekend experience at my home in Cornwall for an introduction to water scrying, guided by the deva of the stream. If this is something you’d be interested in then join my newsletter to stay in touch.
Remember, we are water beings ultimately, so it’s unsurprising we are so drawn to bodies of water. We’re recognising and resonating with our elemental selves.
Do you scry and what is your favourite form; water, fire, mirror, crystals or something else?
If you want to receive your own personal stream of inspiration from me, explore here.
