Phantom limb syndrome is when someone has a body part removed but they still have the sensation of the body part being present. Despite the name it doesn’t have to be a limb, phantom limb syndrome has been observed in people who have had a breast removed in a mastectomy, or people who have lost an eye. They might have lost an arm in a car accident, but it feels like that arm is still there. Initially this was thought to be due to damaged nerve endings from the missing body part. Whether amputated or lost in an accident the nerves could be damaged and send false signals to the brain. This has proven to be incorrect. The prevailing theory now is that it is a neurological condition. The somatosensory cortex in the brain is what processes tactile information, and in the process of losing a limb the brain might not completely “detour” around the related parts of the brain, thus causing phantom sensations from within the brain to limbs that don’t exist. Somewhere between 60-80% of people who lose a limb experience this from time to time. It is a fascinating phenomena and if you wish to learn more I will recommend the works of Dr. Vilayanur Subramanian Ramachandran, not only is he an expert in the field, he is the person who created the mirror box to “amputate” phantom limbs, mentioned later within this piece.

Otherkin sometimes report phantom limbs too, but in this case it is not a body part that has been removed, but a body part that never was part of the human form. The most common phantom limbs are probably claws, wings, and tails, but essentially anything not part of the human form can be part of this experience. Not all otherkin have these sensations, and experiencing them (or not) does not make anyone more or less otherkin. Used a bit more loosely sometimes the phantom limb sensations are less about a limb or appendage, but body shapes and sizes. People feel taller than they are, or that their arms are longer than the body’s.

It is easy to see why otherkin started using the term phantom limb, but their experiences are not necessarily the same phenomena as the medical condition, and not just due to the origin of the experience.

Many people who experience phantom limbs after losing a body part report that their sensations are both painful, and hard or impossible to control. (This in part is why the nerve theory persisted, as a damaged nerve would both be painful and erratic.) Someone who has lost an arm might describe the phantom feeling of their hand clenching until their nails are piercing their skin neither of which are physical, and all they can do is wait out that sensations. Others find their limbs active, but not in their control, that same phantom arm might pound on a table repeatedly, despite not being there. The experience is bad enough that there has been a lot of research on how to remove the sensations, amputate a phantom limb so to speak. The best results coming out of the work of Ramachandra who used a mirrored box to recreate the appearance of a missing limb so that it could be worked with. Essentially he used a mirrored box to give the illusion of someone’s missing limb; if they lost their left arm, the box would place a reflection of their right arm in the appropriate spot, so it looked as if the missing limb was there again. Then by moving both limbs simultaneously, so the reflection follows the intent for the missing limb, the brain then begins to be tricked into believing it can control this missing limb. In several cases after people spent enough time with the mirrored box learning to control the phantom limb, the limb itself would disappear. Last I followed the research it was unknown why this happens.

Otherkin phantom limbs have three clear differences from that; they generally don’t hurt, they are generally controllable, and they interface with physical reality. Rarely have I seen otherkin complain about pain in their phantom limbs, and even more rarely do they complain without a reason, something that makes them experience the pain. Generally if an appendage would be controllable as a physical appendage, the corresponding phantom limb is under the control of the otherkin. A therian might be able to flex their claws in and out of their hand. A celestial might be able to move their wings. Sometimes they might have trouble controlling their limbs, but in my experience it’s far more common for otherkin to be able to control their limbs.

The last major difference if a lot of otherkin describe sensations of their phantom limbs interacting with physical reality. Not that their limbs can influence physical reality, but that they can feel physically through their limbs. Someone with wings might be aware of people standing behind them in close proximity because they are standing “in” their wings. Someone with a tail might feel the tail hitting against, or passing through, their chair. Horns might feel the hat passing “through” them. Essentially their phantom limbs experience tactile sensations when overlapping physical forms. Occasionally you will hear similar with people who have phantom limbs from having had something removed, but it is less common.

If you interpret otherkin as a spiritual phenomena, the experience of the phantom limbs can make sense. If your “soul” is dragon, than your soul or energy body might be in that form, it might have wings. So even when the soul is put into a human body, the wings would extend outside of that. This also suggests why otherkin can feel their limbs interacting with physical forms, because it’s not “in their head” but an energetic extension of the person. Even non-otherkin who are involved in psychic/magick work sometimes perceive these phantom limbs, they might be clear enough that the person can say “You have wings” or more nebulous “You have a lot of energy stretching out from your back and up.”

Some people, otherkin or not, myself included, can be skeptical of phantom limbs, and that is a good thing. With otherkin, as with anything in life, one should never stop asking questions. For those who are skeptical and feel that some form of proof would be useful there are a few options. As mentioned before, some non-otherkin psychics or magickal practitioners can see phantom limbs. If you know someone like this, who doesn’t know you’re otherkin, you could ask them what they perceive. Do not frontload or colour their perceptions though. Don’t ask “Do you see wings” or even “Do you see anything on my back?” Ask what they perceive in general, and around your body. If enough people pick up phantom limbs it helps shows that there is something there at least. It might not be a limb, or what you think, but there might be something there.

Personal anecdote, I attend several different spiritually oriented conventions. At one of them we were doing energy body perceptions in groups of four, with one person being observed. Three of the four of us commented on the person have energy flowing out their back, it looked to be some sort of energetic damage that was just leaking or bleeding out the back. The person identified this as their wings. They could feel energy moving out their back, and roughly from the place most people think wings would go, so they interpreted that as having wings, rather than having a leak. So we were able to verify there was something there, but that it was not what the person had originally suspected.

Another way to try to verify phantom limbs, depending on the limbs, is actually testing your ability to perceive through them, or someone else’s ability to perceive them, but with something to give it structure, something that allows failure. This test was thought up for prehensile tails, but with some ingenuity it could apply to most controllable phantom limbs.

Have the person with the tail that is to be observed sit on the floor. On the floor behind them using masking tape or the like outline a 3 x 3 square marked as a grid of three rows and columns. The squares can be numbered if that will make communicating about them easier.

The experiment can either focus on having someone else perceive the tail, or the person verifying their own tail. If someone else is perceiving the tail, the other person should move their phantom limb so it crosses the squares without telling the other person where they are putting it. The tail could be curled up in a specific square, or laying across two squares diagonally, whatever works. Once their tail is where they want it ask the perceiver to find the tail, however they manage that. It could be visual and just looking until they can see it, or it could be tactile slowly moving their hands through the squares until they feel something. However it is done, the point is simple, to see if both people agree on where the tail is. This can, and should be, repeated several times. If there is a consistently accurate perception, it helps verify that indeed there is something there.

The other variation is for someone trying to perceive and verify their own tail. In this case, while sitting with their back to the same 3×3 square, have the other person place an object in one specific square, preferably solid and heavy as that seems to work better. Then have the person move their phantom limb back and forth behind them and see if they can tell where the object is, if they can perceive the way their phantom limb interacts with it while passing through.

These might not be hard scientific ways of verifying the limbs, but with the limitations of energetic perceptions they are good options to help show if there really is something going on.

Otherkin phantom limbs can sometimes be disorienting, especially if they are not experienced regularly or are a new sensation. Imagine walking down your office hallway when suddenly the hall is too tight because you have wings dragging through the walls. Imagine a therian who suddenly perceives their legs in the manner of their theriotype, where the knees or ankles may bend totally differently than human joints. It’s not hard to see how these experiences can be disorienting.

Luckily most otherkin are able to deal with their phantom limbs with more ease than someone who has had a limb amputated. The most common ways of dealing with them when they are unwanted are visualization, and physical reinforcement.

Visualization barely needs an explanation. If your tail is getting in the way, perceive your tail, however you can, it doesn’t have to actually be visual, and then perceive the tail being “absorbed” back into the body, feel yourself pull that extension back into yourself. You could also move the limbs out of the way, in the previous example, depending on the species, you might be able to instead wrap you tail around your waist like a belt to get it out of the way. You can also just perceive no limb, in the preceding example perceive how your phantom limb becomes less solid until it fades away altogether.

Physical reinforcement can work a few ways, but essentially is tactilally experiencing the limits of your physical form. If wings are an unwanted experience, reach your hand over your shoulder, like you have an itch on your back, and press and rub the area you feel the wings extending from. Essentially reminding yourself “this is where I stop.” Other limbs can be dealt with similarly. Another option depending on the limb and how it interfaces with your physical body, is doing something with the body that the phantom form couldn’t do. If your arms are wings, or your hands are claws, do something with your fingers that would be impossible with claws, type something, send a text, knit, something that engages your fingers in a way that would be possible for the phantom appendage to do.

Regardless of whether or not phantom limbs are mental constructions or energetic structures, they do not need to be something disruptive or problematic. Most otherkin who experience phantom limbs tend to develop a reasonable amount of control over time. The challenge is letting yourself experience them, but not letting them interfere otherwise with your life.

The ritual itself is so simple it is barely worth calling a ritual in many ways.

Requirements:

Candles 4-5. Tealight candles are fine.
A mirror that you can move and position.
A room that you can completely control the lighting to make pitch black.
A cushion or chair to sit on.

Process:

Set up the seat and the mirror in such a way that you can sit relaxed while looking directly at the mirror and you can see your own reflection.

Position the candles so they do not cast light directly on your face, or are directly visible in the mirror. They can be behind you or to the side. The point is you shouldn’t be able to see the candles, only the light, and your reflection should be indirectly lit.

Light the candles, turn off all lights in the room, block light from any doors/windows/electronics. The only light should be the candles.

Sit facing the mirror and look at your reflection. Spend a few moments looking at your face. Extinguish one of the candles, and look at your reflection for a while. Extinguish another candle, and look at your reflection. You want to keep the light on your face balanced as much as possible, so don’t extinguish all the candles from one side of your body, and leave the others burning. Alternate extinguishing candles to your left and right.

The goal here is to use the minimum amount of candles to still see your reflection. It doesn’t have to be a bright or clear reflection, but you should still be able to make out the shape of your face and eyes. Once you are to that point look at the mirror again.

This is the hardest part of the ritual. Look at your face, try to look into your eyes or look between them. The hard part is for this to work you have to blink as little as possible, and not move your eyes. You do not realize how much you blink or how much you slightly shift your eyes until you’re trying not to.

As you stare at your reflection your eyes will get tired, and you’ll notice that your vision begins to blur and darken from the outside toward where you are focusing. Every time you move your eyes or blink you “reset” this process a little, so it’s important to avoid that as much as possible.

If you manage to look at your reflection in this manner long enough all your vision will fade out, so instead of looking at a mirror and your dim reflection your field of vision will be blank and dark.

While not necessary, at this point it can be helpful to try to “project” your energy or essence into the mirror. Eventually this blank vision will give away to images, most commonly reported are different faces appearing in the mirror. Otherkin often describe seeing their face as it “should” be. So elves might see another face with elven features, a therianthrope’s reflection might shift into their theriotype, otherkin who don’t know what they are but have always felt other might see something that helps them understand what they are etc.

That is all there is to this ritual. When you’re done just blink, move your eyes, and normal vision will return. You can then turn on the lights and extinguish the candle.

Obviously one should take this ritual, and the result with a grain of salt. Nonetheless it can be interesting and useful to perform this ritual, perhaps to gain insight into who and what you might be.

When I was asked to do the closing ritual at Kinvention North 2004, I put a great deal of thought into the undertaking.  As most people know, I have my own Kheprian system, and while I have ties to the ‘kin, I am foremost involved with the vampyre subculture.  Kheprian rituals have their own unique energy, and vampyre rituals are almost completely inappropriate in context with the Otherkin.

What I needed to do was design a ritual that was completely Otherkin in energy – and this would mean running ritual in a fashion that isn’t exactly normal for me.  I’ve run both Wiccan and Pagan rituals very successfully, and so I knew this wasn’t beyond me as a ritualist.  In general, writing a ritual in any tradition just requires the ritualist to tap into the unique energy that is the heart of that tradition.  Each system has its own symbols, its own language, and its own archetypes.  So to successfully design and run the KinNorth ritual, I had to essentially travel to the source of these in the mythic imagination and allow what I found there to flow through me.

To tap into this essence, I started with the symbol of the Otherkin: the Seven-Pointed Star.  As I understand it, this symbol is recognized by the majority of the Otherkin, and it serves as an expression of Otherkin diversity.  Because Otherkin by nature draw from a wide variety of races, traditions, and points of origin, the Star is one of the few common elements shared by all the Otherkin.  As the archetypal common ground, the Star provided a point of entry into the vibration or “flow” of the ‘kin.

Prior to designing the ritual, I did some meditation with the Seven-Pointed Star.  These were basically pathworkings where I approached the symbol of the Star as an archetype, and allowed it to speak to me.  It soon became clear that there were several voices within the Star – one for each of its points.  These were essentially Avatars of elements and races unique to the ‘kin.

To design this ritual, I let the Star Avatars speak to me.  All Seven appeared in succession revealing their forms and sigils for invoking.  They each told me their Names and the symbols of office they wished to be represented by.  They told me what elements, colors, and concepts they are associated with (although several were associated with common elements, they were never as simple as one element and one concept – the avatars are multifaceted beings, each as diverse as the ‘kin they embody).

Some came forward and spoke right away.  These had bold voices that were hard to mistake. A few were less direct with me, even hesitant in their contact.  The last one to come forward was the hardest to understand, for s/he was most unlike my own nature and anything I had a context for.  But it was contact with this one (called Illana) that convinced me beyond a doubt that I was dealing with essences both unique and outside of me, as s/he was totally alien to anything I previously had known.

The Avatars each have many shapes and many Names, and during our conversations, they frequently shifted from one face to another while still retaining their overall “feel.”  I’ve come to associate such flux with the ‘kin, so it really didn’t come as a surprise when it was a fundamental part of the Avatars.  The complexity and diversity of the Avatars was also in keeping with what I understand such avatars to be – which is essentially an embodiment of a higher emanation, a fragment of divinity that is more complete and closer to the Source than you or me.

As I had originally planned to only invoke the Avatars like Watchtowers at the Quarters, I asked the directions they were associated with — and in a few cases, the answer came as a surprise.  The traditional Pagan directions are abandoned in favor of what the Avatars themselves declared.  The least traditional of any of them, of course, was Illana, who seems to embody the most “other” element of all of them.

The Avatars had their own idea of how the ritual should proceed, and they didn’t hesitate in telling me so.  As I had already agreed to serve as a channel in this and not impose my own expectations or traditions upon it, I let them speak freely.  The resulting rite gives a great deal of time to the Avatars of the Star, and I have been assured that they will fill in the blanks when the time comes.  During our interactions, they had made a number of other statements, which mysterious at first, later proved to be true – so I’ve definitely learned to trust them.

The whole experience has been fascinating for me, as I don’t usually go talking to so-called “higher powers.”  For my own rituals, I draw everything from my Self, and Kheprian rituals also draw only upon the Selves of those involved.  But this is not a Kheprian rite I am running, and the ‘kin do not function by Kheprian rules.  My role in this is purely as an intermediary and mouthpiece.  I’m fairly certain that the things I tapped into were already there, and I’ve done my best to be a clear channel for them, allowing the information to come through with as little distortion as possible.

What I see before me is a very powerful rite — one that I think will be profoundly inspiring for those who participate in it.  As we are dealing with Avatars and giving them each a chance to speak, the real outcome and message of the ritual is an unknown and can only be experienced.  I’ve built the framework, but the Avatars themselves will tell us what needs to be known.  They’ve been very interesting to work with, and I look forward to future interactions with their energy.

Finally, because I know there will be a widespread interest in it, I am making this ritual available to the general community.  Others who wish to experiment with contacting these Avatars are encouraged to do so.  I am very curious about how they might manifest to other people and how harnessing their energy might serve to help and empower the community of Otherkin.

[Site admin note: While not explicitly explained here there were seven other ritual participants of the appropriate kin types for the avatars. They embodied the avatars for the ritual, and spoke when it was their turn]

The Gathering:

First, I want you all to join hands and gather energy.  Each of you draw from the essence of what you are, where you come from, all of the elements and forces that feed your soul.

Now, as a group, cycle, refine, and combine these.  Weave these varying energies into something that is greater than the sum of its parts.  As you refine it, focus it here, in the center of our circle.

What we are building now is a Between-space, a place of crossing-over.  You can envision it as a temple, or simply a glowing, sacred sphere.  It is in this Space that I will invoke the Seven-Pointed Star.

As we work with the Star of the Otherkin, I shall serve as intermediary.

I am Seth, Setem-Ansi, Sem-Asa.  These are my Names.  I am a Walker-Between, and in this rite, I shall be both Priest and Shaman, serving as the intermediary between you and the Avatars that we Call.

In this space we will have communion with beings greater than ourselves.  I will not call them gods, for I do not recognize gods as most people understand them. We are all emanations of Divinity, and therefore all beings are gods in their own right.

And yet there is a hierarchy of emanation, and some beings are closer to the Source than others.  Avatars such as these I shall call among us today.  Now:

The Calls:

To the West, I Call thee, Fenecai, Lord of Fire: dragon and phoenix, who burns and renews.

To the East, I Call thee, Neride Eyooli, Lady of Waters: healer and seer who flows with the tides.

To the North, I Call thee: Sephiriel Storm-Singer: quick-witted angel whose sword is the Word.

To the South, I Call thee: Gwidorian of the Wilding: Earthshaker, therian and animal lord.

Above, I Call thee: Elerian, of the Shining Host: guardian of magick, beauty, and song.

Below, I Call thee: Hss’tah Feliss: soft-footed huntress and priestess of night.

And Within, I Call thee: Illana of the Dreaming: shaper of worlds and Awakener of souls.

West and East,

North and South,

Above, Below, Within.

I Call you here before me:

Stand with us now

as our Guardians and our Guides.

The Time of Changes:

Now my friends: The world is changing and we stand at the crux of it. We have longed for an Awakening, and now it rises around us like a tide.  But as the veils slip away, our true nature is revealed.  There is a crossroads here, and we must soon make a choice.

We can stay in the shadows and hope to hide, or we can raise our voices and show the world our souls.

By revealing ourselves, we take a great risk, but understanding and acceptance also lie along that route.

We can choose the path of caution and remain hidden among humanity.  But even in hiding, our safety is not guaranteed.

This is our quandary: caution or risk?  And if we risk revelation, do we have the strength and wisdom to succeed?

Guardians of the Races; Watchtowers, Avatars all!

We call on your power and wisdom to guide us in this time of change.

Invocations:

Fenecai:

Lord of the Sweeping Flame; Mighty-Winged One:

Ye who stand on the right hand of Destruction,

Tearing apart worlds so creation begins.

We seek your guidance: what can you give us that will help us succeed?

(Fenecai speaks)

Neride Eyooli:

She of the Flowing Veils; Mutable One:

Lady whose deep wells and healing waters

Reveal Future, Truth, and Consequence.

We seek your guidance: what can you give us that will help us succeed?

(Neride speaks)

Sephiriel Storm-Singer:

Angel of Action; He of the Swift Wings:

Keen-witted Judge and Guardian,

Who sunders illusion, captivity, and deceit.

We seek your guidance: what can you give us that will help us succeed?

(Sephiriel speaks)

Gwidorian:

Lord of the Wild Places; Primal One:

Ye who call us back to our beginnings,

Hearkening to instinct and the lusty flow of life.

We seek your guidance: what can you give us that will help us succeed?

(Gwidorian speaks)

Elerian:

The Beautiful; Fair Scion of Light:

Ye whose music delights and inspires,

Gifting the worlds with magick and joy.

We seek your guidance: what can you give us that will help us succeed?

(Elerian speaks)

Hss’tah Feliss:

Walker of Shadows; Lady of the Silent Strike:

Keeper of all things hidden,

Whose mysteries may empower or destroy.

We seek your guidance: what can you give us that will help us succeed?

(Hss’tah speaks)

And Illana:

The Many-Souled; They Who Exist Within and Between:

Whose glamour is both madness and revelation,

Throwing wide the gates of consciousness and worlds.

We seek your guidance: what can you give us that will help us succeed?

(Illana speaks)

The Avatars have spoken.  Let us take their counsel and their gifts.  Let us each carry these things within, so we may draw upon them when next in need of wisdom, strength, and guidance.  Armed with these things, let us walk boldly forward toward the future we have conceived.

Dismissal:

Avatars! Watchtowers! Guardians of the Star!

We thank you for your guidance,

And for joining us in this space.

Depart now freely and in peace.

Fenecai and Neride:

Peace, and depart.

Sephiriel and Gwidorian:

Peace, and depart.

Elerian, Hss’tah Feliss:

Peace, and depart.

All you who are Illana:

Peace, and depart.

This ritual now is ended.

Peace, and depart.

Avatars of the Seven-Pointed Star:

Fenecai (FEHN-nuh-kye)

Title: Lord of Fire.

Gender: dark/destructive masculine.

Element: Fire.

Direction: West.

Color(s): Red, orange, black.

Symbol: Rod of Kingship or pole-arm.

Metal: Brass

Planet: Mars

Races: the fierce dragons of the heights, phoenixes, stonewings, and sons of the forge.

Essence: destruction and renewal; cataclysmic change.

Appearance: Big, broad-shouldered Draconian warrior with outspread wings.  Wears armor and carries a halberd-type weapon.  Shifts occasionally to a phoenix of flame.  Sometimes in his draconian form, his wings and talons trail fire.  Moves ponderously but then lashes out in sudden, powerful strikes.  An alternate form is the Forge Lord, a fierce dwarven warrior with flame-red hair and beard.

Elerian (ay-LAY-ree-ahn)

Title: Lord of the Shining Host.

Gender: feminine androgyne.

Element: Light.

Direction: Above.

Color(s): White, yellow, silver.

Symbol: Musical instrument

Metal: Platinum or gold.

Planet: Sun

Races: elves and all fey.

Essence: (positive) magick, beauty, creativity and song.

Description: Lithe and fine-boned elf with pale skin and long, reddish-blond hair.  Wears a long, flowing robe that is an almost luminous white shot through with gold and silver thread.  Wears a collar or torque of gold.  Carries a lyre, lute, or flute.  Dreamy, flowing movements — exceptionally graceful.

Hss’tah Feliss (huss-TAH feh-LEESS)

Title: Huntress-Priestess.

Gender: dark/destructive feminine.

Element: Darkness.

Direction: Below.

Color(s): Gray, black, indigo.

Symbol: Small curved blade.

Metal: silver.

Planet: Moon

Races: felines, and all who are children of darkness and shadow

Essence: (dark) magick, night, shadows, mystery — that which is hidden or obscured from view.

Description: A petite, wiry felinoid whose short, soft fur is the color of deep shadow rippled with true black.  Wears bracers of soft leather inscribed with designs.  Minimal clothing, also of leather — deep brown or black.  Carries at least one small, curve-bladed knife.  Sometimes appears covered head to foot in a soft black cloak. Moves gracefully, but in an almost threatening way — like she is constantly stalking something and just about ready to pounce.  Has a dark sexual allure and this is visible in the way she moves as well.

Gwidorian (gweh-DOHR-ree-ahn)

Title: Lord of the Wilding.

Gender: positive/generative masculine.

Element: Earth.

Direction: South.

Color(s): Brown, green, earthtones.

Symbol: Living Staff (wooden staff entwined with green vines/leaves).

Metal: Iron.

Planet: Earth.

Races: Therians, animal-kin, hybrids: centaurs, satyrs, etc.; all children of the woodlands, wilds, and earth.

Essence: vitality, sex, nature, all primal things.

Description: Variously a centaur, a stag-man, and a man-wolf.  Ithyphallic (ie, he’s hung and he’s happy).  Has a distinct Dionysian aspect, and I keep seeing him with a wreath of grapevines (complete with dangling bunches of grapes) in his hair.  If he’s wearing clothing, he wears a long, flowing cloak the reddish-brown color of both dried blood and rich earth.  Beneath that, he wears a tunic of deep green (usually with his privates exposed).

Sephiriel (seh-FEER-ree-el)

Title: Storm-Singer.

Gender: masculine androgyne.

Element: wind (air).

Direction: North.

Color(s): Light blue, gray, silver.

Symbol: writing quill or sword.

Metal: Quicksilver.

Planet: Jupiter (he says Mercury is not a planet)

Races: Celestials, angels, Nephilim, children of air and winged ones.

Essence: thought, Will, judgment, the Word.

Description: Tall, thin, and sharp-faced with shoulder-length pale (gray?) hair.  Wears either a loose-fitting tunic of grayish-white material or the tunic with a breastplate of some non-lustrous gray metal that is neither silver nor steel. Also wears bracers, greaves, and a thin circlet of the same strange metal (which is at once amazingly light and virtually unbreakable – titanium, maybe?).  A little haughty and detached.  Economical but swift movements.

Neride Eyooli (neh-REED ee-YOOL-ee)

Title: Lady of Waters.

Gender: positive/generative feminine.

Element: water.

Direction: East.

Color(s): blue, green, purple.

Symbol: scrying bowl or sphere.

Metal: Copper.

Planet: Venus.

Races: the wise dragons of the depths, nagas, undines, naiads, asrai, and all children of the tides.

Essence: healing, emotion, vision, flow.

Description: Long flowing hair with beads and shells tied to the strands.  Kohled eyes.  Wears nets or veils of many colors.  Lots of jewelry.  Moves fluidly, sensuously.  She is also a dancer.

Illana (ehl-LAHN-nah)

Title: We of the Dreaming.

Gender: plural.

Element: dream/magick/glamour.

Direction: Within.

Color(s): all and none.

Symbol: sphere of crystal or a mirror.

Metal: glass/crystal.

Planet: The multiplicity of worlds.

Races: all, the many-souled.

Essence: glamoury, magick, Awakening.

Description:  Veiled in iridescent, translucent colorless material that looks like it’s been spun from rainbows and spiderwebs.  Almost completely covered head to toe.  All you can clearly see are her hands.  Everything else keeps shifting — and even this form is a compromise, for otherwise they keep cycling through a multiplicity of forms and faces almost too rapidly to see.  The most uncanny and “other” of all the Avatars.

The fascinating world of the Otherkin

When I was first introduced to the Otherkin community a few years ago, I admit that I was skeptical.  I myself hold some extraordinary beliefs, so I try to be accepting of the diverse beliefs of others.  However, there are some traditions which push the limits even for me.  At the time, the notion of Otherkin seemed a little too far-fetched to accept without an entire salt lick, never mind a single grain.

Otherkin, as I was informed, are individuals who believe that they are somehow “other” than human.  While they walk around in human bodies, that is not the nature of their souls. Some Otherkin believe in a genealogical difference that separates them from ordinary people while the vast majority take a reincarnational stance that hinges upon the different lives – and bodies – they have held in the past.

Otherkin are not to be confused with extraterrestrials.  There are certain portions of the New Age movement which accept that “greys” and “Nordic type” aliens have visited Earth in the past and continue to visit in the present.  Within this ufological worldview, many people accept that these aliens have either helped to genetically engineer humanity or have interbred with humans outright.  These beliefs are typically explained within a scientific, or a pseudo-scientific paradigm.

Otherkin, on the other hand, approach the explanation of their nature from a distinctly magickal perspective.  Rather than identifying with aliens and extraterrestrials, Otherkin identify themselves with creatures of magick and myth.  As inherently magickal beings, the vast majority of Otherkin are also Pagan, as this religion, with its acceptance of magick, best accommodates their worldview.

Races and Diversity

The word “Otherkin” is really a blanket term which encompasses a vastly diverse collection of individuals.  To even call the Otherkin a community sometimes seems a bit of a stretch, because frequently those who identify themselves as Otherkin have very little in common with one another beyond their inherent otherness.  Among the various types of ‘kin I have met and interacted with, there have been elves and faeries, dragons, dryads, cat-kin, wolf-kin, and some ‘kin that have defied definition entirely.

Each different type of ‘kin typically has their own subculture and often their own worldview.  Frequently, there are many sub-groups within a general type, such as the elves, which include Listari and Elenari, to name but a few.  Some Otherkin remember entire histories of their previous races.  Others just feel their difference like a nagging itch on their soul.

Limits of Language

Almost across the board, the ‘kin will acknowledge that the words they use to describe themselves are limited and often misleading.  To say that one is a dragon is really to acknowledge that the qualities attributed to a mythological dragon come closest to embodying how that ‘kin feels inside, while many differences remain. To put it another way, an Otherkin dragon has about as much in common with Tolkien’s Smog as a psi-vamp has with Lestat.

For those trying to understand why someone who obviously has two legs, two arms, and no wings or tail would describe themselves as a dragon, try approaching the concept in terms of an archetype or totem animal.  Many Pagans have a particular god or goddess that they relate to strongly, and part of that relation usually includes having traits in common with those traditionally attributed to the deity.  Totems, likewise, serve to express aspects those who follow them embody also in themselves.  For the Otherkin, the archetype is just more immediate and personal and serves as an integral expression of their soul.

Despite how it may at first sound, an Otherkin dragon does not believe that they are a real, literal dragon in this body now.  However, like a transgendered person, they feel somewhat cheated by their current form.  There is an overwhelming sense that at one time he or she did indeed possess this longed-for form, and that body-memory is so real that it makes them uncomfortable in their current form.

Reality vs. Delusion

If all of this sounds like utter madness, don’t worry.  Even the Otherkin admit that their beliefs are far-fetched.  A lot about this community would have been really hard for me to swallow had it not been for the ‘kins’ own acute awareness of how crazy they can sound, especially to outsiders.  Almost all statements made by the Otherkin are prefaced with disclaimers like “I know this is going to sound strange, but …” or, “I have no way of proving this, but I believe I’m a …”

Most Otherkin also submit their beliefs and experiences to a rigorous amount of personal skepticism.  They are very aware that there is a fine line between a belief in the fantastic and succumbing to fantasy.  Articles on various Otherkin sites, as well as numerous presentations at Otherkin gathers address this issue, and most community leaders offer tips to help inexperienced ‘kin separate reality from delusion.

Like all groups, they have their share of clearly delusional people, wannabees, and hangers-on, but over the years I have met a number of very articulate, intelligent, and credible people who also just happen to be Otherkin.  These have included a youth counselor who was also an elf, an angel who worked on the New York police force, and a dragon who worked as a system administrator.  The angel, appropriately enough, worked valiantly throughout September 11 and its aftermath.

Not Quite Human

Being Otherkin is not easy.  Nor is it really a choice.  While an Otherkin’s nature is often accompanied with a predilection for magick and spirituality, “Otherkin” is neither a religion nor a spiritual path.  It is simply a state of being.

Being Otherkin means never quite feeling comfortable in your own skin and never quite feeling like you belong in the reality around you.  Imagine being born into a foreign world yet remembering all the rules of behavior that you had learned in your previous existence.  Furthermore, imagine knowing at the core of your very soul that you were once something very different from what you are now, but being unable to really prove this to others – or even to yourself.  That is the essence of Otherkin.

The legitimate Otherkin that I have met did not have an easy childhood or young adulthood.  What they were was always there, but they did not always have an adequate explanation for it or even a word they could put to it.  Many strove to repress their sense of something different about themselves and their reality, and quite a few reluctantly accepted their natures only after all other possibilities had been exhausted.

Even once acceptance has been achieved, their lives are not easy, especially because an awareness of magick and energy is a fundamental part of their being.  In today’s distinctly non-spiritual culture, this can make it very difficult to blend, let alone relate with “normal” people.

Many ‘kin seek solace in Paganism, but that hardly means they are any better accepted or even understood. While many Pagans deal with magickal beings in their workings, this is typically in a spiritual context alone.  I know a lot of Pagans who leave offerings in the garden for the faerie-spirits, but how many can accept that a faerie might be born in a human body and is in fact riding the subway in the seat next to them?

Seeing is Believing

I’ll be honest.  When I first started working with this fringe aspect of the Pagan community, I didn’t really believe in Otherkin.  I accepted their beliefs as they were presented to me, and I accepted that these beliefs were sincerely held by the people who explained them.  I was able to rationalize the whole schema to myself in terms of archetypes and totems, and this is how I approached the whole subculture. But even though I reluctantly accepted that these people believed these things, I would never have admitted to another Pagan that I was traveling six hours to attend a weekend of lectures and seminars where most if not all of the speakers believed themselves to be elves, dragons, or fey.

Then I attended the event.  What I felt and saw there, more than anything else, made a believer out of me.

Once you have seen them, and have known what you are looking at, there is no arguing that Otherkin wear their otherness outside as well as within.  While a number of Otherkin sport fashions influenced by various subcultures, from punk to Goth to SCAdian, this “other” feel has nothing to do with their chosen style of clothes.  If you lined the Otherkin up side by side with a group of mundanes, and everyone was wearing Abercrombie & Fitch, you would still be able to spot the ‘kin.

Aside from the ineffable sense of otherness that always clings to them – and I can attest that this goes down to the level of their very energy – most Otherkin have distinctive physical quirks that present the most eloquent argument for their not-quite-human nature.

The elves might not look like Legolas, but in general they are all tall individuals, with thin, long limbs.  They’re frequently blond and have distinctive aquiline features.  Some even have subtle yet noticeable points to their ears.  Cat-kin exude feline sensuality and grace, and faeries are small, fine-boned people, with delicate features that can only be described as fey.  After a short time among the Otherkin at the convention, I could pretty much identify the main types by sight, because their characteristics are that marked, even across the boundaries of gender, ethnicity and race.

Strange Reality

It’s very easy to play it safe like I did and respect the ‘kin’s right to believe while quietly assuring yourself that those beliefs are utter poppycock.  It’s even easy to accept that someone who just so happens to strongly resemble an elf from myth is very likely, once he gets into magick and mysticism, to adopt an elven archetype.  Yet it’s a little unnerving to consider that there really might be more to the ‘kin than all that.  At this point, I personally have to acknowledge that there are things about them that I cannot explain, and there are certainly things I have both seen and experienced which I cannot rationalize away.

If you’re still finding all these notions of humans running around with non-human souls a bit hard to fathom, consider this: if you believe in a soul, you probably believe that the soul is immortal.  However, if you just take a few moments to look around this world, you know that cities and cultures and even races of beings are not.  In time, all physical things fade and die.  Even this world, as long-lived as it may be when viewed from our scope of things, is finite and it will ultimately become a burnt-out cinder, consumed by the sun.

So where do all the souls go when there are no bodies to incarnate within?  What will become of those spirits born into humanity when humanity is a distant dream?

Given that the soul is immortal, that time is infinite, and worlds are not, it only follows that each of us has been many different things.  In a sense, perhaps we are all Otherkin, as we have undoubtedly lived as something else before, however remote this might be in our memory.  The only thing that distinguishes them from us is the immediacy of the recollection.  The foreign past still clings palpably to them, and they recall a form not quite as prosaic as the mortal flesh we all now wear.

There are so many things in this vast Universe that cannot be known, who is to say that somewhere, in some half-remembered reality, beings like dragons didn’t own the skies?  And what a wonder if they walk among us now, remembering an existence many people cannot even conceive.

–Michelle Belanger © 2003

For me, it looks like this:

I stood in the central community building of my university, a tall airy structure of glass and concrete, open all the way to its ceiling several stories up. Classes had let out, and swarms of students poured in from connecting hallways and outer doors, passing through, stopping for conversation, yelling across the floor. A cacophony of noise and movement and people.

Something in my brain shut off, or turned on; but either way the chaos around me drowned out all conscious thought and words. My skin prickled with the realization of feathers beneath it, the roof of my mouth seemed to hollow and harden into a beak, tongue turned stubby and inflexible, lips motionless. I found myself hunching, wide-eyed, arm-wings held just apart from my sides, fingers splaying spasmodically.

A panic flooded my head. Noise / danger / loud / out! Despite the wideness and height of the building, I felt claustrophobic. Suffocating. I grasped blindly for conscious thought, words, humanity, but my pulse raced and my beak gaped. Overwhelmed.

Out out out out out out out

I shook from the effort of keeping control, walked faster than was seemly but I didn’t run and I didn’t shove anyone in my haste to get outside.

Fly flee escape fly

I pushed through the double doors and into the open air, blue above me, breeze in my feathers/hair, concrete below. There were people here too, and cars, but nothing for the noise to echo off of, and far more space. I drew in deep breaths of air, my heart rate slowing, my mind stilling. I focused on fingers, hands, words, the boundaries of my skin.

That was six years ago, and I still remember it so vividly.

I didn’t have this problem for the first couple years after consciously identifying as avian. It wasn’t until I started suppressing it, trying to deny parts of it, that I began experiencing intrusive shifts and increasing difficulty with control.

When something affects you, ignoring it or denying it doesn’t make it go away. If anything, it just affects you more adversely because you’re not being mindful of it and not taking steps to manage it. I don’t know what really causes the experiences I identify as “bird”, but trying to suppress those experiences or rationalize them away has more ill effects than not.

So I suppose the first step to balance, for me, was accepting that yes, I am avian in some way; and yes, it impacts my life.

I found some effective short-term tricks for controlling my shifting. The main one is shifting towards “human”. If birdness becomes sharply prominent in an environment where I can’t afford to indulge it, like at work, I focus on words, sentences, speaking; I focus on fingers, manual dexterity, things impossible with wings or claws; I focus on where my physical skin begins and ends, reminding myself that I am here and now and human. I imagine pulling my feathers in, pushing bird-mind down beneath the surface.

But this is a temporary solution, resorting to hard control and suppression. When that’s all I do, birdness comes clawing/flapping up more often, more harshly, harder to suppress each time – until it gets to be as difficult to control as in the above description. Fortunately, there are longer-term solutions.

I mentioned acceptance. That’s the first step. Then: striving for balance. For me, that means finding safe times and places to immerse myself in bird-thoughts, bird-awareness, feathers and beak. That might mean taking a walk in a park, or standing on a balcony and feeling the wind, or even – weirdly – dancing, at a club or around a fire (depending on your preference – I like goth clubs for this, myself; I don’t get bothered, everyone dances in their own space, and I can lose myself in music and movement, fly inside my mind while my body goes through the motions of it all).

Finding ways to express my birdness also helps. This doesn’t mean wearing birds on t-shirts or jewelry – no, what I mean is engaging in activities that are soothing or comfortable to rough-legged buzzard. Hiking at the intersection of cliffs and prairie, buzzard’s preferred habitat. Scavenging, in my own way; whereas hawk might go for roadkill meat, I scavenge the other leavings of deceased animals: bones, game-bird feathers, and the like. Perching in high places where I can get a good view of the ground below. Drinking in the wind.

When I express my birdness regularly, in places and times of my choosing, I manage to find a better balance between human fingers and avian pinions. After a while, I stop needing to consciously make time to be “bird”, because the divide between human-mind and bird-mind blurs to nearly nothing, until I am at a stable constant state of bird-and-human-at-once, aware of both.

It took a while to get there. There were three years between the birdpanic experience detailed above and the following journal post, in 2008. This is what balance feels like, for me:

I have been comfortably, constantly aware of my birdness these past few months. There have been very few shifts; it’s been an ever-present thing instead. Not just frazzled pin-plucked feathers during times of anxiety or stress, I’ve not just experienced birdness in skittering frightened flapping-panic, but in contentment as well. This is rare, and it’s wonderful, and I’m really liking the constant sense of feathers.

Not prickling and itching under my skin like I sometimes perceive the feathers, but just there, everywhere, fluffing with cold or pleasure or happiness, standing on end with threat or irritability, slicking back in fear or worry or miserableness.

I have felt more fully bird than I ever have, and it is day to day and ever-present. My feet are bird feet, long and clenching-opening-curling; my mouth is also a beak, hollow palate, nibbling-tasting-testing everything (pens, necklaces, the edge of my shirt collar or sleeves); I am aware of movement and my own movements and the strangeness of my eyes.

It hasn’t felt unusual at all, though. It took me a few months to realize how constant my awareness of my birdness has become, because it feels so natural.

I wrote this as a favor to a feline person on a now-defunct therianthropy/otherkin forum, Trueform Within. She expressed envy of a fae-kin’s presence and glamour, and asked for any tips on mimicking that ability to charm and “light up a room”. I could understand this feeling… and so I wrote on glamour.

First, an emphatic disclaimer: I am not fae-kin. I have not studied the lore and legends of glamour. Nor have I extensively and methodically experimented with it. I write as one who observes and is good at observing; I write as a dabbler and casual experimenter. At best, this is “armchair magic” – theory, mostly untested, and extrapolation. My observations and experiences are UPG – unverified personal gnosis – sometimes but not always corroborated by the experiences and perceptions of others. Your mileage may vary.

With that in mind, I ask any fae-kin, more experienced occultists, and people more familiar with the lore to give your two cents, point out inaccuracies and flawed reasoning, and add your own experiences.

Let me first attempt to define glamour. The dictionary definition is “the quality of fascinating, alluring, or attracting, esp. by a combination of charm and good looks”, or “magic or enchantment; spell; witchery”. Now, most of the definitions of glamour I’ve seen in a magical context puts it as a type of magic, one of illusion, fascination, and attraction. It is a sort of charm. So let’s define glamour as illusion and fascinating (and by “fascinating” I mean “attracting intense interest” as in “holding someone spellbound in fascination” – a sort of mesmerism and magnetism).

I personally divide glamour into two basic types: “bright” and “dark”. This is more of a reference to how they feel to me, a description of manifestation, rather than a moral judgment. I don’t know if there are better terms, so these are the ones I use.

I find “bright” glamour to be immediately noticeable, and having noticed it, I can avoid being affected by it. Apparently not everyone notices it like that, but I’m speaking from my own experience here. Bright glamour is flashing charm, a flame of charisma drawing people near like moths. The bright fae is shiny, glowing, the center of attention, impossible to ignore. Sie induces feelings of infatuation, fascination in all meanings of the word. Sie is a prism and a fire, entrancing, hypnotic, dancing. This is the fae-magic so typically described in old songs, the stuff that leads mortals into faerie holds, never to return.

Of course, here in the hard physical world, it tends more to lead people into infatuation and obsession, leaving broken hearts when the fae-kin forgets the temporary romantic catch for a new shiny plaything. I’ve watched it happen time and time again at faire. Glamour plays with the hearts and minds of people, and I’ve watched fae-kin do this effortlessly, unceasingly, automatic manipulation with unthinking ease – and half the time I think they don’t realize what they do, and don’t see the trails of broken hearts in their wake. Morgan Felidae (NyteMuse on LiveJournal, a Feri practicioner and fae-kin) noted, “Most fey only actively use very little glamour. It’s more appropriate in a lot of cases to say that fey ARE glamour.” For many fae, using glamour is much like breathing or circulating blood: a very natural, unconscious process.

Then there is the “darker” glamour. It is more a magnetism than a bright charisma. It’s almost like velvet shadows, the enchantment of black velvet and smoky spices rather than that of dancing fire and moonlight. It draws people in as well, but with the allure of the forbidden or mysterious rather than shining charm. It draws the sort of people addicted to fixing, or pain, or those who secretly desire to play on the edge of things and sense that edge in the wielder of shadow-glamour. Jareth the Goblin King from the movie Labyrinth is a perfect example of the use of this sort of glamour. It’s the “bad boy” allure. It’s also the magnetism of the wounded, that hint of “there’s a softness beneath this cold exterior that you can maybe reach” or “there’s hurt beneath this hardness that you can heal”. It’s a far subtler glamour, but equally entrapping and potent. It’s a glamour that I’ve seen come seemingly naturally to demon-kin (of varying sorts, not just Abrahamic) and many vampires as well as certain types of fae.

The bright glamour draws people in by displaying an excess of color and light that others yearn to share, to become a perhaps a little more bright themselves by contact with such fire. The dark glamour draws with a vacuum, speaking to peoples’ desire to be needed. Yet they both manipulate, use, and take. I think it is no coincidence that fae and vampires often overlap; glamour is a most excellent bait to bring one’s food to one’s door. Fae are, I think, integrally vampiric in nature.

Still. The bright glamour is enviable, and that’s part of its lure. It can even inspire hate, in some especially envious people, even as they often can’t seem to resist it. Whether one should succumb to such envy is debatable… but this is not quite a piece on morality.

How to learn it or at the very least mimic it? Let’s start with the mundane approaches first – and let’s work towards bright glamour rather than darker glamour, since that’s what the feline person over on Trueform Within seems to want to mimic.

First: confidence. Or at least the seeming of confidence. The “bright” fae I’ve observed, and non-fae who have a similar sort of bright color, have a certain self-assurance and seeming lack of shyness that is appealing and attractive. I doubt that glamour can be even mimicked without this basis of self-assurance. It doesn’t need to be real confidence; I asked a bright/colorful friend about it once, and she says most of it is fake, a real sort of “fake it till you make it”.

Getting yourself to show that confidence (however fake it might be) can take some work. Figure out what makes you feel more confident or what forces you to be less passive/shy. Elaborate makeup, different hair cuts and styles, unusual clothing – if you can manage to have a physical appearance that is already colorful and remarkable, it might be a little easier to say “To hell with it – I can’t hide like this, I might as well stop acting like I can escape notice”.

Second: physicality. The way one moves, walks, and holds oneself can completely change how people react to hir. If you keep a lowered gaze and lowered head, slouch a bit, and keep to the edges of a hall or room or walkway, you’re going to attract less attention. I used to cultivate this sort of physicality in an attempt to not be seen during middle school and high school; I was a shy sort of kid. If you make eye contact (though not too strong/constant of eye contact, not an aggressive bold stare, because that’ll provoke a different sort of reaction), smile at least somewhat naturally, keep your head up, walk with a bit of a spring in your step – people are going to respond positively to that.

But there’s also physicality to make you more magnetic or attractive, too, other than just the approachable/invisible/unapproachable body language mentioned above. Take some dance classes, or martial arts; it’ll train a certain force and grace and direction into your physicality. Find some person, actor, or character whose magnetism and charisma you admire and study their body language, how they move and walk. Try incorporating felinity or wolfishness or some other animal’s movement style into yours and see how that looks or feels. Nytemuse, an Unseelie fae, suggested that the “bright” glamour “can be mimicked by engaging in open expressive movements that bear a certain amount of grace, so dance or martial arts is a good start.”

Another point from Nytemuse:

“People are attracted to fun, lightheartedness, joy. The truly ‘bright’ masters take joy in the simplest things, so that they radiate no hidden agenda or sense of manipulation…they don’t scream ‘predator’ or ‘puppetmaster’. They are often truly naive and childlike, and that is what draws the eye. Go to a park some time and see just how many people are fascinated by watching a young child play with a completely mundane object or activity. That newness, because zie has never seen a butterfly before, or a soap bubble. It fascinates because it contrasts. Most adults lose the ability to see the mundane as fantastic, so they are mesmerized by someone who can, especially someone they don’t expect that from (someone their own age). That is one of the aspects that makes infants so terribly alluring, is watching them discover everything for the first time, and sometimes recalling what that was like for you all those years ago. To be completely caught up in what you are doing, not worrying about your job or taxes or relationship problems, but just completely taken by the sheer pleasure of the music and dancing…that air of joy is the flame to which moths are drawn. To us, the carnal pleasures are the greatest indulgence, so we are creatures of sensuality. The experience of eating a really good meal, or listening to a heart-rending aria from an opera can be like sex, so we allow ourselves to be taken by the experience of the senses. And that joy, that willful abandonment, is what creates that sparkle.”

This starts to edge into the less mundane ways of imitating, approximating, or perhaps even using glamour. Taking on the traits of someone or something else starts to blur into the metaphysical, depending on your views and how you approach that sort of shift. Here’s where we get into the weird, now…

If you are therian, an animal person, you already have a leg up on learning to use (or rather mimic) glamour. I have noticed that animal people have the allure of things untamed. People have a strange desire to touch, own, and tame the wild and the exotic. We visit zoos and long to touch the tiger, to pet the bear, to jess the falcon. This same desire manifests with therians. There’s a hint of wind and woods and half-feral movement in animal people that awakens the urge to touch/tame/possess. I see my therian friends attract possessive clingy suitors (and this happens to me as well) and be miserable when in relationships with such people. If they’re self-aware and conscientious of boundaries, they get out of the relationship; a half-wild thing does not cope well with cages.

But that is tangential. The point is that there’s already a magnetism and allure to animal people. It’s not glamour, and it’s got a distinctly different flavor, and doesn’t “light up a room”, but learning to control and amplify that natural magnetic appeal might have a very similar end result.

Secondly, Empathic projection can imitate glamour, in a way. I can only explain how I personally project, though; others might be able to better explain this. I find a way to make myself feel the emotion I wish to project, either by simply willing it or finding a stimulus that provokes that emotion in myself (the second works better, for me). I push energy and intent into it, let it build, and then push it outward – either just as a sort of aura about me, or at a particular individual.

Third, similar to the second: Weaving an aura or an illusion about you. I’ve only ever done this for job interviews (and when I get an interview, I pretty much have always gotten the job). I sit, center myself, ground, and then build energy in my center, instilling it with the impressions I want the interviewer to get of me. “Confident”, “capable”, “good for the job” – these sort of things – thickly flavoring the energy with these impressions. Then I build that into a shield, almost like a projection but woven about my body like a second skin. (I don’t know if this makes any sense. I’m not very good at explaining this sort of thing. But I did say I’d try.) This is perhaps as close to true glamour as I get, the illusion sort of glamour. One could probably color this weaving with traits like “bright/shining/iridescent” or “intriguing/you want to get to know me/beautiful” or the like.

The only other way to imitate glamour that I can think of is through an energetic sort of magnetism. Making oneself a magnet that draws others to oneself. I’ve never tried this, and I’m not entirely sure how it’d be done; theoretically, I think one would create a pulling sensation within/around oneself. Rather than just making oneself attractive physically and charismatically, it’d be more of a “come to me/look at me” sense.

Nytemuse made a good point: The way to fascinate is to keep something hidden, show only a portion of the image and the truth. Illusion mixed with reality, something that simultaneously confuses and intrigues. That creates mystery, which intrigues and draws others to look closer.

According to Rune (stiobhanrune on LiveJournal, a self-identified Witch who sometimes teaches glamourie to his students):

1. Glamoury is not a lie. It is a coloring of truth, a turning of the facets of reality so that they scintillate. Or, go hidden. Either way works, and while the “don’t notice me” glamour oft is held to be unremarkable, it is still quite significant.

2. Glamoury is a trick; it requires a gimmick, a focus in order to work. One must act in such a way that will fascinate if one would fascinate. One must act in such a way as to be subtle, if one would be subtle. So, if you want to catch attention, draw attention to yourself.

3. Glamoury is like all of the Artes of the Eyes: it requires a change in one’s perspective, one’s view. One doesn’t need to paint a person with makeup or brush their hair, one can simply look upon the person and ‘see’ them as beautiful, and then remark upon a feature that others can focus upon. “You have absolutely brilliant eyes,” things like that usually do the trick.

Incidentally, that’s why most famous glamour spells had to do with social tricks, like Cinderella’s entrance to the ball at the moment when everyone would notice a latecomer. To attract, draw attention. To be ignored, deflect or distract attention.

Please note that the ethics of all this are very debatable and should be thought on before one acts on such things. Also, this is a lot of projection, illusion, and masking; are you comfortable with showing an illusion rather than yourself? With fae-kin, they are that bright; it is naturally part of them, the illusions enhance rather than falsify. With those of us who are not so naturally scintillating, it is not genuine.

A better option might be tying these illusions into a piece of jewelry or some sort of physical focus. Put on the jewelry and you put on the illusion; let it be temporary, removable, and don’t wear it all the time. An act can become you; a mask can become permanent, if you’re not careful.

Another option might be figuring out one’s natural attractive elements and style, and enhance those. That’s rather more genuine, real, and probably more effective. So you don’t light up a room – but perhaps you have a shy, wild allure and feline liquid grace, and by building on those, you can draw individuals to you as you stalk a crowd’s edge. You won’t draw a crowd of admirers, but you might find greater value in the individuals you attract with your animality. You also might find it’s a different variety and quality of attention and notice, and it might (for you) be preferable.

We’ve all got those questions before, and for most of us there isn’t an easy answer.

In fact there are several facets to that question, so it’s better broken down into more specific questions.

When did I start identifying with the term ‘otherkin’?

When did I start identifying as a celestial?

When did I realize that something was “off” about me and how I fit in with this life?

When did I first notice traits/ideas that I would later interpret as otherkin?

All of these answer the first two questions, but they go deeper. The line between human and kin, or asleep or Awake, is blurry, and it’s not a hard separation. It’s not like there is a hard date; Monday I thought I was human, Tuesday I thought I was celestial. It’s a process, and a blurry line. Think of it like any personality trait or division. When did you become an adult? You can’t really point to an exact date (unless you’re using the legal definition of adult, which I think we all know is lacking nuance), you might be able to say “At 27 I was an adult, at 17 I wasn’t an adult” but you can’t say where that change happened. Sure, you can try using a legal definition, but that’s an artificially created hardline, and doesn’t realize say anything.

Sure identifying as otherkin might have some key moments, but they’re part of the process. The day you first heard the term otherkin and realized “There is a word for people like me.” That’s a moment in time you can point to, but that’s not the moment you became otherkin, just when you had a word for your experiences. The first time you think to yourself that maybe this weirdness is because you’re other than human, or that you’re a celestial. The first time you realize in conversation with someone that your experiences are a bit off, or other. The first time you enacted patterns related to who you actually are.

All of these answer “When did you awaken? When did you realize you were kin.” They also answer a lot more and show that there isn’t always a clear delineation. Awakening in a long process. Realizing what you are is a long process. There are touchstones along the way, but they are just points on the map of your journey, not the journey or the destination.

So when did I awaken? When did I realize I was kin?

Depending on how you define it, it could have been when I was four, or seven, or twelve, or seventeen, it could also be always and forever ongoing. I’ve always known I was kin, I just didn’t have the context or language to express it. I’ve always known I was kin, because I’ve always known who I was, I just didn’t always know I was different, how I was different, why I was different, what to call myself, what to call people like me.

Good Neighbors. So many names. Fair Folk, Good Folk, Good Neighbors, Dwellers under the Mound, Faerie, Fairy, Fae. So many names for the same thing. Or maybe not the same, but close enough. Others might include Sidhe or Elf on that list -I would- but not all agree so I’ll keep it simple.

We all know roughly what someone means when they say Faery. We’ll disagree on details but the meat of the definition would be the same.

Faeries are a big part of European witchcraft, specifically pre-Gardnerian and traditional witchcraft lineages. There are strong feelings on the Fae. Are they friends, allies, enemies, neighbors…or even family? Maybe all of them?

Some witchcraft traditions view the Fae as dangerous beings necessary for the world but to be avoided or at most placated. Do not engage the faerie lest they bind you to your word. Leave out offerings, not to thank them or recruit them, but so they leave you alone.

Other witchcraft traditions see them as spirit allies, friends who live part in our world part in their own and can help us on the way, but also be wary of them for they are quick to anger.

Then others like my lineage view them as family. There is the belief that some time far back in history that the Fae “intermarried” with humans. (They say intermarried, but when you read the myths it’s less about marriage and more about rape and kidnapping) This becomes the gift of the Witchblood. Again beliefs differ, some lineages say it happened so long ago that everyone carries the Witchblood, others say only those that possess the Witchblood will be called to the tradition. Fae being less than physical are more magical beings, and sharing their blood allows us to tap that side of ourselves.

I’m not saying I believe this or that there is reason to believe it, it’s a story or myth like any other. It is weird for me though because I’m Faerie. I have known I was Faerie for a few years before getting into magic, and knew for many years before ending up in my current lineage. I love my lineage, my coven, and my path, but it’s weird. We have a wary veneration of the Fae. The first witch ancestors in our mythology were Fae and human offspring. Our rites are to honor and strengthen that connection, to “ignite” the Witchblood. Who needs faerie blood if you have faerie spirit?

It was a couple of years before I told my priest about my belief. It was gut-twisting and nervewracking. Here I am claiming to be one of the beings that we so honor and venerate. Surely he must think it is a belief to get attention. It would be like a Catholic confessing to their priest that they’re an angel. What would they think?

Maybe we were right though, maybe not about blood but spirit, that only those who possess the Witchblood or are connected to the Fae are called to the tradition. I kept talking until I didn’t know what to say. “Is that it? We weren’t sure if you knew yet.” He identifies as Fae, the priestess identifies as fae, several of the coven mates do too. I had found the right lineage. I’ve seen friends struggle with sorting out being Otherkin and their religion, I just feel blessed that I found a path that accepts who I am, and maybe even calls to people like me.

To my friends who struggle I wish you the best, but know that not all religions have these problems. I hope that one day you find a place that balances your religion with who you are.