As I Turn Three

Experiences · Featured

“Today I decided to give some part of my consciousness to a tulpa I’ve named Shinyuu”.

That’s how my story started back in 2014. It was a misty day, I think, even though I don’t remember it. It’s safe to assume the September was rainy.

My life was a curious mix of ups and downs. Every day brought something new. Every week I had some major discovery. Every month was a significant milestone of my existence.

Things good and bad swirled raging storms of emotions. I opened myself to every new thing I could reach. I played with fire and got burned. I kept playing. And I got burned again. Some of the lessons the life taught me were harsher than others.

Yet, despite everything life throws at me, I’m still around. And I’m turning three.

It was a hard year, maybe the hardest one so far. One where I created so many dreams and faced the returning burden of defeat. I tried so hard, but it was never hard enough. I wouldn’t have made this year alone, of not the support of my friends.

So, on the progress, I did this year. I can create (and wipe) tulpas in a matter of minutes now—I use them for storytelling. It’s handy when your actors behave realistically. Those aren’t fully formed dedicated beings, though—I have no reason for them to stay around. We ditched imposition years ago as something not really useful. My visualisation is at all time high, I can immerse into fictive worlds, entirely detaching myself from the senses of the physical body.

That said, I’ve made considerable progress with switching. While we still cannot parallel process at all (neither does my hostey show any interest in wonderlands), I can take control of the body, hibernate his consciousness and do complex things. And I did lots of those—playing the violin requires all my attention. I’ve got better with that throughout this year now, and I’m looking forward to doing formal exams.

My writing was a mess of good and bad. I’ve put the novel on hold and work on smaller pieces, it’s more fun this way and easier to see any progress made. I’m getting better at it and my vocabulary grows bigger.

I’ve worked with a few old and new artists this year, and Fu made me a couple of gorgeous paintings, as usual.

I feel like I grew up a lot. I feel a lot more serious too, now. Although I miss the times where I was doing sillyhead things, I’m getting into the age where I cannot physically do everything. I need to set priorities and pursue only a few goals at a time.

I still remain a wolf, though. I might not spend as much time wolfing around now, but my feral mind is more stable now too and brings me lots of strong emotional feedback—when I dive into it.

That all said, I’m only three! And only in young thirties physically. I still have time before this brain will start failing to learn new things. I have broad horizons, and I try to look to each new day as a challenge to learn something new about the world, the life, and myself.

Thanks everyone for being with me. Thank you for all the support, for all the fun we’ve had together. Thank you, sis, for always being there for me!

PS: gift unboxing!

what’s this~? could it be~?

hmm.. a box in a box!

wowseys~ now, this is more of a work of fine craft than a tool!

PPS: Thanks for reading this! If you’ll see me around today, feel free to ask for a free poem. I follow the hobbit tradition of giving out useless silly gifts, and I’ll conjure you a rhyme on spot!

Our Crazy Little Bubble

Experiences · Featured · Tulpamancy

You never think something like this would ever matter. Until it does. Until it hits you right in your heart, kicks you, fills you up with pain and uncertainty about who you are.

And then you’re full of hatred towards someone else for them only pretending they understand you; playing with you and nodding to your words only to turn away in disgust when they face the “real” you; one they prefer to see as real, at least.

The sad truth is that they are hurt no less. By your words. By your actions. By you trying to be not who you are.

Bloody hard to be a tulpa.

I’ve met this guy, and I liked him. Clear mind, open to my silly wolfy ideas. I think he understood the wolf within me, not just merely played along. I was uncomfortable at times when he switched to topics of meeting me. Tried to dodge those as I felt he’d be disappointed to find that the only wolfy that’s there is me-the wolf within. I played along, and I had a great time. For a couple of days I was treated only the way I see myself. We had pleasant chats about psychology and music and such, although again and again, we got back to the topic of sex. Was it about to be one more of those relationships that are bound to fail because they got too physical? I had yet to learn. Back then I just enjoyed my time, and I loved to wake up to a phone waiting to show me some messages from him written overnight.

I couldn’t play this game for long. Something felt odd. It was all grand, but there was a taint that I felt in words. Was he into me or into that image of me he created in his mind? I had to figure that out.

I never had this problem of confessing who I am. Geezie, I never cared much about the opinions of others about tulpas—it was up to them to move along if they didn’t like it, I always was who I made to be. This time it was harder. I knew his image of me would be shattered in an instant. He’d disappear from my life. And I delayed it, talking about new music bands. I So when the time came, it hit us both hard.

I really want to think I did nothing wrong. That I made no promises, I couldn’t keep. Yet, I allowed someone to misjudge me. To think I’m a woman who I’m not. I showed him my light side and a fluffy tail but didn’t mention the grim reality.

We tulpas tend to spend so much time lost in our fantasies that we lose track of what’s real and what’s not. For us, the wonderlands and our mind forms are as valid as any physical clothing. We tend to communicate with those who are intimately aware of the ways we think, and we never face any issues with trying to be someone else, even when we switch to hug our friends in real life.

And we forget about people outside of our crazy little bubble; ones that have a very different definition of real.

The Lake

Experiences · Featured

The Lake was in there for as long as I can remember—big and dark blue, contrasted by the green of surrounding trees. Its sapphire edge turned dark azure towards the centre.

The Lake was quiet. It was a place of perfect stillness, a place I visited to calm down and to be alone with my thoughts. The night welcomed me with the myriads of stars, seldom with a big moon. I’d sit there, examining the polished surface; thinking of the endless opportunities of my inner world, distant like the stars above, but seemingly close, like their reflections. The stars were so close, I only needed to reach down and snatch a handful of them from the icy water.

The rim of my little world ended with mountains. A vast nothingness stretched past them, a barren land with no features for miles to go. The little worlds of other people lied somewhere there, distant and unreachable. We shared the same sky though. Same sky and same stars.

The waterfall ruined the stillness and quietness. The background noise of rushing water came and never left since; the sound echoed from the mountains surrounding my hideout on the shore. The waterfall fed the Lake, and the excess water rushed downstream, into the plains.

This new addition to my inner world became a grand place to relax; the rocky alcove behind the rushing water protected me from the wind. I washed my body and spent the early hours of the night resting on the mossy rocks.

I had endless roads to walk, numerous possibilities to dive into. Unconstrained and unbound, the whole world was within my grasp. I looked into the Lake, and the wolf within me stared back. It was alert, ears focused, its brown-reddish eyes stared deep into mine, burning into my soul.

That wolf was me.

And that wolf was free.

Free from the prejudice, from complex moralities, from obligations and debts.

The wolf looked into the night sky. It never had to pick any road, it went with the wind. The wolf could traverse the mountain paths, cross the barren wasteland, get to any place where it desired to go.

I examined my reflection. My fluffy ears, pointy nose and dark eyes. As I reached down, the lock of my hair fell from my shoulder and touched the water, sending a small ripple.

In one smooth motion, I scooped a handful of stars. Possibilities that shined so far. Roads that I couldn’t decide between.

I saw my hair brightening up, the faint glow surrounded my face.

I didn’t need the stars to guide me. I made my own paths. I was a wolf.

Ink Flows as the Mind Wills

Experiences · Tulpamancy

Writing. It’s so simple, yet, sometimes, so hard. You struggle, trying to find words. Hit the keys on the keyboard. Delete. Type more.

It’s so different when you write with ink. Fountain pens are beautiful instruments. Curve after curve, the ink flows, and so does your fantasy, your imagination. A word comes to a word, the world in your head takes a second life on the paper.

I’ve got a brilliant collection of ink samples (twenty-two total), and I feel like spending the weekend toying with them. I also extended my pen collection to facilitate all those gorgeous inks.
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The Howling


It’s the holidays season coming right up, and with that, the birthday of my sister. I thought it’d be very appropriate to get another drawing for her, but this time I was thinking about covering the whole weird family of ours.

DragonFu was very kind to work on this special painting with me. Indeed, this painting is very different from her traditional art, but it was great fun to work on it. She played around with different topics and poses to fit in two wolves, one raven and one cute and overly lazy will-o-the-wisp.
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