The morning had been blissfully uneventful. The owl occupied his usual perch in the old oak tree, quietly watching the world awaken below. The gentle hush of birdsong was interrupted by a loud fluttering, followed by the unmistakable sound of several hard objects bouncing from branch to branch.
The magpie landed rather awkwardly. Three quartz crystals rolled one way. A piece of amethyst bounced another. A rose quartz nestled into the crook of the branch. A crystal pendulum swung precariously over the edge before the magpie caught it with admirable dexterity. Finally, with great ceremony, he produced a perfectly polished crystal ball. “There!”
The owl surveyed the growing collection. “Shopping?”
“They called it an investment.”
“I see.”
The magpie polished the crystal ball against his feathers. “Isn’t she magnificent?”
“I wasn’t aware crystal balls had pronouns.”
“This one does.”
“I stand corrected.”
The owl regarded the assortment. “I don’t suppose I should ask where the crystal ball came from.”
“There happened to be a travelling circus in the next village.”
“I see.”
“They had six fortune tellers.”
“They’ll be down to five by now.”
“It was sitting all alone on a table.”
“So you took it.”
“I prefer to think of it as rescuing an underappreciated artefact.”
“My dear Magpie… that is remarkably close to theft.”
“Theft? Certainly not! I am a dignified magpie of impeccable taste. I refuse to be compared with some lowly quadruped cat burglar.”
“I hadn’t realised dignity was a legal defence.”
“I am an avian curator of esoteric curiosities. Ownership, I have found, is often temporarily negotiable.”
“And the crystals?”
“Oh, those came from the crystal shop in town. The side window is never closed.”
The owl closed his eyes. “My dear Magpie…”
The magpie carefully arranged his treasures. “Now then… can we discuss the important matter?”
“The crystal ball?”
“Can it see the future?”
The owl looked from the crystal ball to the eager face before him.
“It depends upon what you mean by ‘see’.”
“Oh, I was hoping for lottery numbers.”
“So are most others. Before we discuss crystal balls,” said the owl, “perhaps we should begin with their companions.”
The magpie beamed. “I knew they’d want to be introduced.”
The owl picked up the clear quartz, turning it slowly in the morning light. “Clear quartz is one of the most abundant minerals on Earth, yet people have regarded it with wonder for thousands of years. The ancient Greeks believed it was ice frozen so deeply by the gods that it could never melt. The very word crystal comes from the Greek krystallos, meaning ice.”
The magpie stared. “So humans have always made up stories?”
“They have always tried to explain what filled them with wonder. For our ancestors, there was no clear line between what we would now call science, spirituality, philosophy or magic. The world was simply full of mysteries waiting to be understood. Some searched through observation and experiment, others through ritual, symbolism and contemplation. Many did both without seeing any contradiction.”
“So when did everyone start arguing?”
A faint smile crossed the owl’s beak. “Humans are remarkably fond of putting things into boxes. Over time, one path evolved into science, asking how the world works. Another became religion, asking why we are here, while the older traditions of symbolism, alchemy and folklore simply continued asking different questions.”
“And magic?”
“Often just the name people gave to what they couldn’t yet explain.”
The magpie looked thoughtfully at the crystal “So… wonder came first.”
“And the labels afterwards.”
“As they so often do.” He nudged the amethyst towards the owl. “My favourite.”
“I had guessed as much.”
“It keeps me calm.”
“I rather hope so. The Greeks believed amethyst prevented drunkenness. Wealthy people even carved drinking vessels from it. Although I suspect drinking less wine proved rather more reliable.” Without a word, the magpie quietly nudged yesterday’s fermented berries behind him.
“And this?” He lifted the rose quartz with surprising tenderness.
“Aaaah, the crystal of love. It has long been associated with affection, beauty and harmony. Humans have always linked colours with emotions. Pink simply invited a rather lovely story.”
“So the crystal came first…”
“…and the symbolism followed.”
The pendulum appeared next. “This one definitely finds answers.”
“It certainly finds gravity.”
“It swings.”
“As all pendulums do. The human body is constantly making tiny movements without conscious awareness. A pendulum responds beautifully to those movements. It often reveals more about the person holding it than about the future.”
The magpie frowned. “That sounds far less magical.”
“Only if one assumes self-knowledge isn’t mysterious.”
The magpie considered that. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Finally, he lifted the crystal ball with both wings. “Now…”
“Now.” The crystal sphere scattered tiny rainbows through the oak leaves. “For centuries, people have gazed into polished crystals, bowls of water, mirrors and other reflective surfaces. The practice is known as scrying. It was never intended as supernatural television.”
“So nobody looked into one and saw next Thursday?”
“I’m sure many claimed they did. The human imagination has always been remarkably cooperative.”
The magpie looked down at the sphere. “So why does every fortune teller have one?”
“For most of history they didn’t. Crystal balls became inseparable from fortune tellers largely because of nineteenth-century stage performers, travelling fairs, illustrated novels, early cinema and, eventually, Hollywood. They made wonderful theatre. A mysterious tent simply looked more mysterious with a crystal ball glowing on the table.”
“So humans fell in love with the image…”
“…more than the history.”
The magpie gazed into the crystal ball. “I can’t see anything.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And what do you see?”
“My reflection.”
The owl’s eyes softened. “Perhaps that is exactly what generations of mystics hoped people would notice. A crystal ball was never really about escaping yourself.” He gently tapped the sphere. “It invited you to look more closely.”
A comfortable silence settled between the branches. Far below, the travelling circus was beginning another day’s performances. The magpie sighed. “I suppose I should return this.”
“I think that would be wise.”
“And perhaps apologise.”
“Wiser still.”
The magpie looked wistfully at the crystal ball. “May I visit it occasionally?”
“I’m sure the fortune teller would be delighted…” The owl paused, “…provided you use the front entrance.”
The Oak Tree Conversations series
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