Skeptophilia (skep-to-fil-i-a) (n.) - the love of logical thought, skepticism, and thinking critically. Being an exploration of the applications of skeptical thinking to the world at large, with periodic excursions into linguistics, music, politics, cryptozoology, and why people keep seeing the face of Jesus on grilled cheese sandwiches.
Showing posts with label tulpa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tulpa. Show all posts

Thursday, October 30, 2025

Double take

I ended up going down a rabbit hole yesterday -- not, honestly, a surprising nor an infrequent occurrence -- when a friend of mine asked if I'd ever heard of an English legend called the "fetch."

I had, but only because I remembered it being mentioned in (once again, unsurprisingly) an episode of Doctor Who called "Image of the Fendahl," where it was treated as kind of the same thing as a doppelgänger, a supernatural double of a living person.  And just so I can't be accused of only citing Doctor Who references, the same idea was used in the extremely creepy episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker called "Firefall," wherein an obnoxious and arrogant orchestra conductor ends up with a duplicate who also has the nasty habit of killing people and setting stuff on fire.  The scene where the actual conductor has figured out what is happening, leading him to take refuge in a church -- and the double has climbed up the outside wall and is peering in at him through the window -- freaked me right the hell out when I was twelve years old.


Anyhow, the fetch (in English folklore) is attested at least back to the sixteenth century, but it may derive from a much older legend, the Norse fylgjur.  A fylgja is a spirit that follows someone through their life -- the name comes from an Old Norse verb meaning "to accompany" -- and can take the form either of an animal or a woman (the latter, regardless of the sex of the person; a man's fylgja is never male).  This in turn may be related to the Old English concept of a mære, a malicious, usually female, spirit that visits you at night, and is the origin of our word nightmare.

I ended up looking for similar legends in other cultures, and turns out there are a lot of them.  One example is the Finnish etiäinen, a double that can only be vaguely glimpsed on occasion, and frequently precedes a person in performing actions (s)he later does for real.  You might catch a glimpse of your significant other opening and then closing a cabinet door in the kitchen, then when you look again, there's no one there -- and you later find out that (s)he was in an entirely different part of the house at the time.  But twenty minutes later, (s)he goes into the kitchen, and opens and closes the same cabinet door.

Apparently, appearances of the etiäinen aren't considered especially ominous; there's usually no special significance to be extracted from what actions they perform.  It's just "something that happens sometimes."  Not so the tulpa, a being originally from Tibetan folklore that was eagerly adopted (and transformed) by western Spiritualists.  Originally, the tulpa was a ghostly stalker that would attach itself to a person and follow them around, generally causing trouble (the name seems to come from the Tibetan sprul pa སྤྲུལ་པ་, meaning "phantom").  But once the Spiritualists got a hold of it, it turned into something you could deliberately create.  A tulpa is a creature produced by the collective psychic energy of a group of people, that then takes on a life of its own.  Prominent Spiritualist Alexandra David-Néel said, "Once the tulpa is endowed with enough vitality to be capable of playing the part of a real being, it tends to free itself from its maker's control," and relates the experience of creating one that initially was benevolent (she describes it as "a jolly, Friar-Tuck-type monk"), but eventually it developed independent thought, so she had to kill it.

Is it just me, or is this admission kind of... unsettling?

In any case, we once again have a television reference to fall back on, this time The X Files, in the alternately hilarious and horrifying episode "Arcadia," in which Mulder and Scully have to pose as a happily married couple in order to investigate a series of murders (Mulder embraces the role enthusiastically, much to Scully's continuing annoyance), and the tulpa turns out to create itself out of garbage like coffee grounds and old banana peels.

And if you think that just plain tulpas are as weird as it gets, there are apparently people who are so addicted to My Little Pony that they have tried focused meditation and lucid dreaming techniques to bring to life characters like Pinky Pie and Rainbow Dash.  This subset of the community of "bronies" call themselves "tulpamancers" and apparently honestly believe that these characters have become real through their efforts.  I'm a big believer in the principle of "You Do You," but the whole brony subculture kind of pushes that to the limit.  Lest you think I'm making this up -- and let me say I understand why you might think that -- here's an excerpt from the Wikipedia article on "brony fandom:"

The brony fandom has developed a fandom vernacular language known as bronyspeak, which heavily references the show's content.  Examples of bronyspeak terminology include ponysona (a personalized pony character representing the creator), ponification (transformation of non-pony entities into pony form), dubtrot (a brony version of dubstep), brohoof (a brony version of brofist), and brony itself.

The next obvious place to go was to look into the fact that apparently, a lot of "bronies" want the My Little Pony characters to be real so they can have sex with them, but I drew the line there, deciding that I'd better stop while I was (sort of) ahead.

Well, ahead of where I would have been, anyhow.  I'm shuddering when I think about the searches I already did, and the insanity they're going to trigger in the targeted ads on my social media feed.  I can only imagine the horror show that would have ensued if I'd researched imaginary friend brony sex.

I don't even like thinking about that.

It's a sacrifice, but I do it all for you, Dear Readers.

So anyhow, thanks just bunches to the friend who asked me about fetches.  You just never know where discussions with me are gonna lead.  I guess that's the risk you take in talking to a person who is (1) interested in just about everything, and (2) has the attention span of a fruit fly.  

You may frequently be baffled, but you'll never be bored.

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Saturday, December 16, 2023

He sees you when you're sleeping

Ever heard of a tulpa?

I wrote about this (alleged) phenomenon a while back, so long-time readers of Skeptophilia might recall that it is when a bunch of people believe in a fictional character with sufficient fervor that said character becomes real.

Well, in some sense.  Even most true believers don't think they end up as flesh-and-blood, more that they can appear in spirit form (whatever that means when applied to a character that is fictional in the first place).  It all sounds like a lot of wishful thinking to me, although as a fiction writer, I can say with some certainty that I would very much rather the characters in my books not come to life.  There are a few I'd like to have a beer with, sure.  But most of them?  Nope.

Lydia Moreton from In the Midst of Lions, for example, can stay safely in the realm of the unreal, thank you very much.

Be that as it may, apparently there are now people who think that there's a tulpa who is around mostly at this time of year.  So I'm sure you can predict that who I'm talking about is...

... Santa Claus.

No, I'm not making this up.  In an article over at Mysterious Universe, Brent Swancer tells us about a number of alleged sightings of Jolly Old Saint Nick.  And not to beat the point unto death, but these people do not believe that they're seeing someone dressed up as Santa Claus; they think they've actually had a close encounter with the real guy.

The word real, of course, being used advisedly.  Here's one such account, just so you can get the flavor of it.  A woman named Ana says she saw Santa when she was five years old, and the encounter was not exactly heartwarming:
He must have felt my presence because he turned around and looked at me.  He didn’t look jolly or kind and happy like you would expect Santa Claus to look.  He looked kind of eerie like he was staring into my soul.  Automatically, I ran into my parents’ room and hid under the covers.  I don’t know why I was so scared at the time, but I wrote it off as a dream for a while before I forgot about it completely.  Years later, I remembered it.  I thought it could have been a burglar, but when I asked my parents, nothing was ever missing from that apartment.  The only time we were ever robbed was when we moved later on.  The only explanation I have now is that it was some kind of apparition.
Of course, that's not the only explanation, but you knew I'd say that.

His eyes, how they twinkled!  His dimples, how merry!  [Image licensed under the Creative Commons Jackie, Evil clown Santa Claus, CC BY 2.0]

Loyd Auerbach, a "professor of parapsychology" over at Atlantic University, used similar verbiage to describe the accounts:
I’ve never even heard of people seeing Santa.  The Grim Reaper, yes, but not Santa.  The only possibility of this being real is if it’s an alien or a ghost pretending to be Santa.  We can’t investigate that.  There’s nothing we can do with that.
Um.  We could investigate it if it was the Grim Reaper, but not if it's Santa?  Or if it's not actually Santa, our only options are that it's an alien or a ghost impersonating Santa?

I think these people need to review the concept of "only possibility."

So anyhow, I think the main issue here is that if it were true, it doesn't exactly paint a reassuring picture of Santa Claus.  In fact, it gives sinister overtones to lines like "He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake," not to mention, "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus."  It also gives me pause when I hear the stanza from "Up on the Housetop" that goes:
Next comes the stocking of Little Will
Oh, just see what a glorious fill
Here is a hammer and lots of tacks
Also a ball and a whip that cracks.
Is it just me, or does it sound like Little Will made his Christmas list to fill out the equipment in his My Very Own Li'l Tots BDSM Dungeon?

Myself, I find the whole thing vaguely terrifying.  It's a good thing I think it's all a myth.  On the other hand, even if I'm wrong and Sinister Santa is real, he's still better than Krampus or the Giant Icelandic Christmas Cat, the Jólakötturinn, who comes out on Christmas Eve and eats bad children.

Which, for the record, I also didn't make up.

So I'd like to wish a lovely Christmas season to all who celebrate, and best of luck avoiding evil Santas or humongous child-eating cats.  Also the Grim Reaper, for what it's worth.

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