Class in Session: Tasseography

Back on Feb. 14th, a class was offered down in Sellwood at the Sacred Well (now called the Raven's Wing), on Tasseography --- a form of divination also known as tea leaf reading. I couldn't go, as I had too much to do. So when another class was offered, close by in NE Portland at a little apothecary I'd never yet visited, I jumped!

I wouldn't feel complete, in light of my British heritage and Potistry expertise, if I never learned to read the tea leaves, like a gaggle of working-class English dames or an old Roma (Gypsy) woman.

SeaGrape is a dear place, with a wholesome female energy, and shelves full of soaps, ointments, tinctures, smudges, and other appealing healing products. It felt really good walking in there. A table had been set up, covered with mismatched tea sets. About a dozen smiling women filtered in as class time drew near, then our evening's lesson commenced, taught by a cheerful and humorous she'he trans spirit.

Tasseography, or tasseomancy, is the art of reading loose tea leaves as a form of fortune-telling or divination. The first records of tasseography are from the 17th century, after Dutch merchants brought tea from China to Europe. It became especially popular amongst the lower classes as a cheaper and easier alternative to other forms of divination, including reading of molten metal (dangerous, costly, tedious) and animal entrails (um . . . ew).

There are many ways to interpret tea leaves. Choose one that speaks to you, or devise your own. Forcing yourself to read by someone else's prescribed method can merely result in poor or unhelpful readings.

Knowledge of symbols, we learned, is not necessary, though it can be a helpful starting point, especially if one wishes to jump off by sticking to the tradition of the art. But tea leaves are not like Runes or Tarot, which have consistent shapes and meanings. This art is more nebulous. Different symbols vary in the minds of different people: Some, for instance, consider a black cat unlucky; I for one feel the exact reverse. More than many other divination forms, tasseography requires a dose of intuition. (Certain members of the magical community have been heard to describe it as "woolly.")

Traditionally, the top inner portion of the cup has represented the present, the middle the future, and the bottom the distant future. But some use a reverse approach, with the bottom the past, the middle as present, and the top rim as future. Still others ignore this entirely and go purely on what their intuition tells them.

In choosing cups, some readers like to use special divination teacups with designs on the inside. With these cups, it's more about where the leaves fall than what shapes they take. The designs are typically astrology, playing cards or tarot, or symbols. In this class, we used blank cups, and focused on the different shapes formed by the wet leaves. Avoid a cup (at least at first) with a complicated design inside; it may be pretty, but it will also make viewing the leaf shapes more difficult.

Method.

After picking a seat (and a cup; I got a sweet pastel floral patterned one), we learned the basics, then got started, with many a shy, if excited, smile and a shrug. We had a plethora of delicious teas to choose from, courtesy of PlumDeluxe, our instructor's little company.

Chocolate Hazelnut! Hibiscus! Picking one was the hardest part. I settled on the first of these two, then went over to the hot-water carafe. . . .

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• Choose your tea. Any tea can be used, but finer cuts, such as those found in "breakfast teas", tend to work best. Tea taken from a tea bag is too fine.

• Place one teaspoon of leaves into the cup. Pour hot water over leaves in a circular motion to make sure they immerse and steep properly.

• When the temperature is to your liking, drink the tea. While you are drinking, keep your question(s) for the tea leaves at the forefront of your mind. Make sure to leave a small amount of liquid in the bottom of the cup, just enough to swirl the leaves; this can take a bit of trial and experience. Tradition holds this is a "thimbleful."

• Swirl the liquid remaining in the cup three times clockwise, then turn the cup over onto the saucer. Allow a minute for the liquid to drain.
  Note: Which hand you choose to swirl with may also vary, depending on which is your power hand, or if you'd rather use your receptive hand. (Yes, some leaves will probably end up on the saucer, AND you'll probably get tea all over the table, and that's fine.)

• Spin the cup three times counter-clockwise, then turn it over to see what's inside.

• Note any shapes, symbols, numbers, letters or words as well as their position in the cup and to each other. It's helpful at this stage to have a pen and paper nearby to jot things down.

• Use your intuition to interpret what you see based on the question(s) you asked while drinking the tea.

The Chocolate Hazelnut tea I drank for my first reading smelled delectable, and tasted great, too. "What guidance do you have for me in the coming year?" I asked, in my mind.

The nebulosity, the vagueness, of tea leaves quickly presented itself. I saw what sort of (and "sort of" was the de facto operative term here, not merely for myself) looked like a heart with stuff emerging from the top, or possibly a dancing female.
"And a shape can have more than one meaning at once!" our teacher assured us.

I saw a little girl with pigtails, either pushing off, or leaping for, what looked like a ship with square sails. Did this have anything to do with my growing inclinations to travel? There was a scorpion, or naga, or was it a mermaid? (But mermaids mean bad luck for those on ships!) A bird, a dog, an axe, a bat . . . some symbols appeared more like one certain thing than any other, but the need for intuition became awkwardly clear to me.

All down the length of the table, similar speculations continued.
"Does this look like a rooster to you?"
"Look for letters, numbers."
The woman kitty-corner to me muttered: "I found a penis."
Laughter.

For my second reading, I deliberately chose a tea with a different leaf cut shape than the first, to see how the shapes would compare. Inwardly, I asked as I stirred the warm golden tea with its small cyclone of leaves and began to drink:
"Do you have any guidance for me on relationships?"

To my amused dismay, much of my leaves ended up in an amorphous lump.
"You get big clumps a lot," she'he assured us.

I saw what resembled a kneeling woman in a dress, a cockerel, a group of dancing fairies or children, an orator or speaker with a staff (or a wizard!) . . . but what on earth was that?

I took photos, because I had the idea --- and our teacher agreed --- that this craft isn't always one to be rushed. Symbols and impressions can emerge later, after further contemplation.

Besides, why hurry such a pleasant experience, be it wittily social or peacefully contemplative? Our two hours felt woefully brief even as they were, and too soon, we were meandering to the door even as we lingered as best we could. I had to work that night (I told my evening's companions I was holding off on caffeine until later, for the deep night kick at work), so I got back on my bike, and off I petaled along sidewalks speckled with fragrant new spring cherry blossom petals, into the settling dusk. . . .

Now, I have got to get my paws on some loose leaf tea.

Even so, the night's pursuits had not ended. Determined to make full use of the moon's full (and Blue) stature, I made a potion. . . . .

to be continued