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.

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.

Ask two dragons what they mean by “dragon” and you’ll probably get different answers. One idea you’ll see pop up with a lot of kin, regardless of type, is that we’re really just using a human code as a short form for what we mean.

What I mean is when someone says “I’m an elf” they probably don’t mean the literal Lord of the Rings elf who walked out of Middle Earth, and they might not even mean literal elflike beings from Celtic or Norse mythology, but what they mean is something with that feel. When an otherkin says they are an angel, to some that is a literal belief that they are a being made in service of the Judeo-Christian-Islamic god, but to others angel is more a description of some type of “heavenly” being, and may not be connected to that god, or any god in particular. So what do they mean? Well, that’s individual, but ask them what does elf or angel mean to them, they will probably give you a list of traits and to that person “elf” is a great shorthand for that list. These are traits you probably think of when you think of Tolkien’s elves, or elves for mythology. It could be the physical traits of being tall and lithe, the ears and the hair, maybe it’s a sense of connection to nature in a different way, maybe it’s an abstract feeling of magic or a sense of a culture. It’s hard to say, but somewhere in “elf”, there are enough points that matchup, that using the term “elf” as an identity inspires the right ideas, if in a vague sense.

Dragon could be a physical sensation, wings that aren’t there but still unfurl behind you when running or in the wind. It could be senses and memories of flying as a mighty beast. It could be a sense of predator impulses like on a hunt. It’s hard to say, but again, if someone says they’re a dragon, chances are the image in your head is probably closer to them than for any other easy one-word identity, that’s why it works.

It isn’t to say we aren’t, we weren’t, literally something else, just that the words we use, elf, dragon, naga, demon, wolf, insect, stone-wing, phoenix, shadow, these words might not be literally what we are, but they are the closest analog we have in human mythology. It might match perfectly, it might have areas that just don’t fit. But they’re often the best words we have. This isn’t to deny literal identities either, sometimes when someone says something like an angel, they don’t mean a being that has some resemblance to an angel, they literally mean angel as they appear in myth.

So whether or not you’re otherkin or just talking to one, trying to understand them, instead of just asking “what” someone is and leaving it at a simple one word answer, ask them what does it mean to be this thing, why do they think that’s what they are, what does the word mean. Reality doesn’t always fit into neat little boxes, our identities rarely do. Don’t mistake the names for a solid identity, the map with the territory.

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