Divination: Stichomancy - Reclaiming Folk Wisdom in the Spirit of Mabon

By Melanie Paquette

The wheel is turning again. This turn brings the autumn equinox, one of the points of perfect balance when there are equal hours of light and dark in the day. This perfect balance occurs at an exact moment in time, and when that moment passes, the number of dark hours in the day will exceed the number of light hours.

As the autumn equinox, or Mabon, approaches, many reflect on the ideas of harvest, renewal, loss, and recovery. It’s a time when the fruits of labour are gathered, as the days grow shorter.

I often ponder the origins of words. I wonder about why things are named what they are, and what the words meant originally. I hadn’t given much thought to why the autumn equinox is called Mabon until now. I know him from Welsh folklore as Mabon ap Modron (Mabon, son of Modron), which translates to “divine son of the divine mother”. Mabon was stolen away from his mother Modron when he was three days old. His story becomes part of the lore of King Arthur, who later rescues him from his captivity. What we know of Mabon is told in the stories of the Mabinogi – a collection of ancient Welsh stories that were passed down by generations of Welsh storytellers and finally written down by Christian monks in the medieval period. I’ve spent a lot of time with the Mabinogi over the past two years – one might say it’s been a bit of a project of mine. And yet, I’ve just discovered that Mabon is a relatively modern label for the autumn equinox. The name was made popular in the 1970s by Aidan Kelly, a prominent figure in the neopagan movement. He felt the story of Mabon aligned well with the concepts associated with the autumn equinox, and so a name was born.

And as fate would have it, I discovered this while I’m in the middle of reading a book that retells the stories of the Mabinogi in a very different way. The Assembly of the Severed Head by Hugh Lipton goes beyond the traditional English translations of the text. It paints a picture of how these ancient stories, traditionally told in community by bards and storytellers, passed down orally through the centuries, may have come to be written down in the 12th century by Christian monks. It’s a beautiful and rich re-telling that adds so much life to these already amazing stories.

So, here I am, reading this book of stories that are thousands of years old, thinking about Mabon, thinking about writing this article, and remembering that there’s a form of divination that I’ve thought about many times, but never really practiced – stichomancy.

Stichomancy is a practice that dates back thousands of years where one seeks wisdom by selecting random passages from a book.

You may have heard of bibliomancy, which is the same concept. Technically, bibliomancy is divination using passages from the bible, while stichomancy is divination using any type of text. The word stich means “line, row or verse” and the suffix mancy means “divination by means of” (although if you trace it back further, you’ll find meanings like: seer, oracle, passion, spirit, to think, and one touched by divine madness – but that could be an article all on its own). So stichomancy is “divination by verse”. Traditionally a sacred or significant text would be used, but in modern times, folks use any book that is meaningful to them, or even choose a book at random.

I figured that Mabon was the perfect time to try out an ancient practice, and the fact that I’m reading a novel based on ancient Welsh folk tales where the story of Mabon is told was just too much of a sign to ignore.

Stichomancy starts like any form of divination – with a question. I settled on the question “What is the story we (personally and collectively) need to hear about this turn of the wheel?

The next step is typically to open the book to a random page and choose a random passage, and then divine meaning from that passage.

Simple right? Well, I’m not known for simplicity, so I changed it up a little. This year, Mabon takes place on September 22, at 8:43 am Eastern time. And Mabon is that point of balance. So I opened the book at the approximate midpoint – the balance between beginning and end. And I chose to start reading at line 8 on the left hand page, and read 43 words, to represent the time of the equinox, and to start reading at line 9 on the right hand page, and read 22 words, to represent the day of the equinox.

The book opened to pages 183 and 184. This is in the middle of the second branch of the Mabinogi – the story of Branwen. On the surface, Branwen’s story is quite sad – a story of hardship and loss, but also one that tells of the power and bonds of family and community. Branwen holds steady and endures many hardships with grace, and her family and community rally to come to her aid when she needs it. 

And then I read the passages from the pages, and learned that stichomancy is really hard. Reading a book passage and trying to figure out how the words answer your question is challenging, to say the least. There’s no framework to rely on. When I first read the passages I honestly thought about abandoning the whole idea and pulling some tarot cards instead. Or at least trying to find some passages that made more sense to me. But I sat with it. And inspiration struck in the car, as it often does.

The first passage of 43 words, starting on line 8 of page 183:

“Over there! The watcher was pointing across the water. His hand was shaking. The others sat up and stared. A vision was approaching, a strange sight that was beyond their understanding. They leapt to their feet. They left their flocks and ran to …”

Yeah, this is tough. But here we go …

Water symbolizes emotions, intuition and the subconscious. Pointing across the water is calling us to pay attention to something beyond the physical realm. Perhaps something that is far away, mysterious, or liminal. Perhaps referring to our feelings about entering the darker half of the year.

The shaking hand implies fear or awe. Whatever we’re being asked to pay attention to is powerful, and unsettling in some way. Mabon is a time of very obvious shift – when many grapple with the end of summer and the loss of light.

The vision, the strange sight beyond their understanding is something significant. It’s not every day people claim to have visions. This might refer to sensing larger shifts that are on the horizon – we can feel them, but we can’t quite make sense of them yet. The message here may be to allow ourselves to sit with mystery and uncertainty.

Leaping to their feet and leaving their flocks brings to mind an urgent call to action. We want to jump up and run. The question is, do we run toward the unknown, or away from it? The old meaning of the word “flock” is “group of people” or “folk”, so “leaving their flocks” implies leaving the group or community. As the days get darker and the weather gets colder, we tend to retreat into our own spaces, away from community. Should we run away from community, or should we run together? Do we let go of what is familiar in the face of a big change, or do we lean into it and face it together? 

Perhaps that question will be answered in the second passage of 22 words starting on line 9 of page 184:

“They shook their heads. Bards and men of learning were fetched. They were told of the vision. One of them spoke: Lord …”

Shaking one’s head represents confusion, disbelief, uncertainty or rejection. It speaks to our struggle to comprehend the changes that are coming with this turn of the wheel, and perhaps our desire to resist the change.

Fetching bards and men of learning speaks to seeking the counsel of others. In times of uncertainty, coming together in community can help us put our individual fears and concerns into context. What seems strange and unsettling when we’re alone becomes more manageable when we have others to rely on. In ancient traditions, bards were keepers of wisdom and story, so the message here may be to seek insight from ancient or forgotten wisdom. The answers we need today may lie in the stories of the past.

Telling others of the vision hints at the power in sharing a story. As individuals, we have unique interpretations of the vision and it may be difficult for us to understand it on our own. This passage invites us to begin a communal reflection on the changes that are unfolding, to share it with others, including those who hold wisdom and story, to uncover its full meaning.

The fact that one individual begins to speak lets us know that clarity or guidance is available if we ask for it. The reference to “Lord” in this context is to one with a lordship title (as opposed to Lord in a divine sense). The word “lord” carried the original meaning of “loaf keeper” or “one who guards the loaves”. Bread is one of the first foods made when humans transitioned from hunter-gatherers to agriculture, and has come to represent sharing of gifts. Speaking to the “lord” is to call on the ones who guard that which is to be shared – the keepers of story, tradition, and wisdom.

So, if we put that all together …

A big shift is coming. It’s not quite clear yet, but our subconscious knows something is just around the corner. We can feel it, maybe even visualize it, but we aren’t sure what it is yet – it remains elusive and beyond reach. Individually, we might feel fear or resistance. Or, we might feel inspired but unsure how to proceed. Our emotions are ruling the day. We feel the need to do something right now, and our instincts might be telling us to retreat into ourselves, away from others, and prepare for this uncertain time on our own. And yet, there is strength in community, and we’re really being invited to enter a time of communal reflection. That’s where we’ll find clarity and a deeper understanding of the coming change. Together we can reclaim the wisdom of older times, engage those who have taken the role of guarding the old ways and stories, and gain a deeper understanding of what’s coming, and how to navigate it. 

And with that, we’ve begun the reclamation of an ancient form of divination – simple, yet profound. As the wheel turns again, the practice of stichomancy can help us reclaim the ancestral practice of harvesting knowledge hidden in literature.

So this Mabon, ask a question, open a book, read a random passage and ponder its meaning. And then share what you’ve learned to see how much more insight you can gain by asking others. If you try it, let me know – I’d love to hear what you find. Blessed Mabon!

Melanie hosts workshops and offers Tarot readings. Check out her offerings on our website.