Planet of Lost Children (Part One)
But between you and me they were really dupes of the Wicked King
Who wanted to rob the children of their dreams - T Bone Burnett
When I was a young boy, before I could have a hand in my room's decoration, there was a strange piece of art hanging on the wall opposite my bed. It was a copper-like bas relief, about a foot high, of a stereotypical Chinese labourer, grinning in mid stride. When the door was open, I couldn't see it from my bed.
I thought about it a lot. I wondered whether, behind the door and out of sight, he was still striking the same pose. I began to imagine another life for him, and other purposes. I thought, when I would leave a messy room and return to find it tidy, it must have been the man on the wall picking up after me. (When I shared the theory with my mother she was understandably annoyed that I hadn't first considered that it might be her.)
Now the thing is, on at least one afternoon, while I lay on my bed, I saw this figure as a life-sized man, step out from behind the door and stare at me. (He waved.) And I accepted this, since I'd already imagined more for him, and he seemed kindly enough. And of course, I was just a child.
I hadn't thought of this for many years, because like so many wonders it just didn't fit, and it didn't do anything for me now. But then I thought about tulpas, "imaginary friends" and the naturally altered states of children, and how they have always been regarded as totems of strong magic. And at last it did something.
Explorer and initiate Alexandra David-Neel introduced to the West the Lamaist practice of thought-form creation in her book Magic and Mystery in Tibet. She writes, regarding her own efforts at tulpa creation:
Besides having had few opportunities of seeing thought-forms, my habitual incredulity led me to make experiments for myself, and my efforts were attended with some success. In order to avoid being influenced by the forms of the lamaist deities, which I saw daily around me in paintings and images, I chose for my experiment a most insignificant character: a Monk, short and fat, of an innocent and jolly type.
I shut myself in tsams and proceeded to perform the prescribed concentration of thought and other rites. After a few months the phantom Monk was formed. His form grew gradually fixed and lifelike looking. He became a kind of guest, living in my apartment. I then broke my seclusion and started for a tour, with my servants and tents.
The Monk included himself in the party. Though I lived in the open, riding on horseback for miles each day, the illusion persisted. I saw the fat tulpa; now and then it was not necessary for me to think of him to make him appear. The phantom performed various actions of the kind that are natural to travelers and that I had not commanded. For instance, he walked, stopped, looked around him. The illusion was mostly visual, but sometimes I felt as if a robe was lightly rubbing against me, and once a hand seemed to touch my shoulder.
The features which I had imagined, when building my phantom, gradually underwent a change. The fat, chubby-cheeked fellow grew leaner, his face assumed a vaguely mocking, sly, malignant look. He became more troublesome and bold. In brief, he escaped my control. Once, a herdsman who brought me a present of butter saw the tulpa in my tent and took it for a living lama.
I ought to have let the phenomenon follow its course, but the presence of that unwanted companion began to prove trying to my nerves; it turned into a "day-nightmare". Moreover, I was beginning to plan my journey to Lhasa and needed a quiet brain devoid of other preoccupations, so I decided to dissolve the phantom. I succeeded, but only after six months of hard struggle. My mind-creature was tenacious of life.
(Also, and mentioned previously here, Philip K Dick talks about tulpas and Disneyland, and a supposed ghost in Greenwich Village resembled "the Shadow," the fictional creation of the deceased author whose house it "haunted.")
Now, with respect to imaginary friends, on "Baby Center's Ask the Experts" a mother writes:
"My four year old has an imaginery friend called Cheeney who is 16 and lives in England (apparently). Strange seeing we live in New Zealand i.e. the other side of the world. Sometimes what she comes out with scares me too, but mostly I just put it down to an active imagination, and she certainly has that! Sometimes my husband does get annoyed holding the car door open for a long time so all her "friends" can come out. He has even closed the door on a few - oops!"
Of course, so long as the imagined friend remains unexperienced by others, there is not much to concern us here. As David-Neel wrote regarding her tulpa, "There is nothing strange in the fact that I may have created my own hallucination. The interesting point is that in these cases of materialization, others see the thought-forms that have been created."
For what they may be worth, here are a couple of recent and possibly relevant posts on the "Unexplained-Mysteries" forum which similarly elevate the mystery.
When i was a child my mom and dad apparently heard a voice talking to me while i was asleep at the time i had a imaginary friend so this frightened my mom because of the voice so we moved and it never happened again.
When my little brother was between the ages of 3 and 6, he had an imaginary friend named "Bill". I actually heard my brother talking to his "friend" and then his "friend" answering back. We had all kinds of weird things happen in our house and we always blamed Bill. My brother is 24 now and he still swears that Bill was real, that he could see him and hold conversations with him. FREAKY!
Finally from I Used to Believe ("the childhood beliefs site"), this contribution from "Frances Ames":
I was a very lonely little girl when I was 5 years old and lived on Toronto Island at Hanlan's Point. I wished real hard for some new friends, my age, to play with when we all went to the beach, a few hundred yards from our house. An old man came and said here is 2 friends for you to play with. They will grow as you grow. They will stay with you as long as you don't tell anyone their names. Well, I was so happy. I would build things in the sand and they would too. I used to talk to them and my mother would pester me and asked who I was talking with. I finally told mom who they were. Dingus and Tardar. They went away and never came back. My 5 yr. old cousin saw them too. He let me know that after we became age 60. He told me the old man's name was Pookie. True story.
In The Field, Lynne McTaggart writes that EEG studies of the brains of children under five show that they "permanently function in alpha mode - the state of altered consciousness in an adult. Children are open to far more information.... In effect, a child walks around in a state of a permanent hallucination." Alpha waves appear to bridge the conscious and the subconscious. For much of our waking adult life, we don't have a decent bridge.
If childhood is a naturally liminal state, then perhaps much of what's called High Magick amounts to the attempt to recreate its conditions. (You say Tulpa, I say Imaginary friend.) Or in other words, a subset of occult science may amount to the recovery of power nascent to childhood. And what, I wonder, does this have to say about the child victims of mind control and ritual occult abuse?
It's late, and I'm afraid it's sketchy, but I'll have to finish this later.