The Magical World of Tylluan Penry

Over on the Raving Loon's blog last night, Martin did an interesting post about the power (or otherwise) of mantras to raise one's self esteem.

Basically some research had come up with the opinion that such statements can do more harm than good in some individuals. And this set me thinking - why do they work for some and not for others?

Magically speaking, in order for any thought to take form, certain things need to be in place. One of them is a lack of outside distractions. Another is confidence that you can actually do it.

This latter point is very important. I call it the 'Toothpaste Factor.' When I go to clean what remain of my teeth in the morning, I am confidence that I can do it, that my toothbrush will not snap, that there is enough toothpaste and basically that I am up to the job of brushing my own gnashers. In other words, I don't give it a second thought. I say to myself 'Time to clean the old teeth' and I go and do it.

It's the same with repeating mantras. If you can say to yourself 'Today I am going to be slimmer/more interesting/sexy/ or whatever' without any doubt in your mind that this is possible then the chances are that you will succeed.

Oh, and if you want to visit Martin's blog (he's actually a Featured Blog on the BCUK page today), here's a link to the relevant post:
http://sevenminutestomidnight.blog.co.uk/2009/07/04/self-esteem-6447095/

It all began with a knife. Or rather, a missing knife. Which I insisted must be found. I'm not normally all that stroppy, but this was part of a set that stands in a wooden block in my kitchen.
'Leave it,' said Mr Penry. 'It'll turn up.'

Well, I searched everywhere I could think of. I found all sorts of things I had forgotten about, together with evidence of my dire housekeeping abilities (crusts under the kitchen unit, an empty tea light wedged behind the fridge) and still there was no sign of it.

And I went on and on. In the end, Mr Penry said he would search through the bin bags. Two of them. Hot and ripe in the summer sunshine.

Oh, it was awful. But he ploughed on, refused all help, and did his best not to retch or vomit. And still.... nothing.

We decided to leave it to the House Brownie who always seems to find the things I've we've lost. But it was still niggling away at me. Every time I looked at my depleted knife block, I worried about it. How was it getting on, I wondered? Was it lonely? Frightened?

And then I was searching for something else I'd lost in the drawer of my dresser and there it was. Just sitting there. I can't remember putting it there, but it was probably me.

I felt really, really awful. Shamefaced, I went and told my beloved I'd found it, half expecting him to be at least a bit miffed after me getting him to go all through the bin bags.

But instead all he did was nod, shrug and say 'Good job it's turned up then.'

I swear, that man really is a saint.

No, not the friends we make in school. What I mean is the 'imaginary' friends, the ones that nobody else can see. Of course, they seem real to us when we are children, and some are more friendly than others.

One thing that surprises me when I start talking about things like this is how many people seem to share experiences. For example, I've come across many people who as children, were often 'followed' either by a creature (dog, horse, psychedelic rabbit etc) or fairies.

As we grow older, we tend to forget these things or 'grow out of them' but one thing's for sure, we hardly ever forget them. Sometimes people report still being 'followed' by certain animals even when they're well into adulthood.

I had an imaginary friend, a young boy who seemed as real to me as my other friends around the neighbourhood. He didn't stay around all that long, but he was there for a while. And I also seemed to be followed by birds which is interesting as I've never really considered myself a 'bird' person (apart from my name, obviously )

So I'm curious - does anyone here have a similar tale to tell, either about themselves or someone they know? I'd love to hear it!

No, not the ones you find on BCUK's home page.... this is my idea. Every so often I shall have a browse through recent posts and select a few interesting blogs here. If they are of interest to you, then maybe you would like to visit them.

Let's see how it works, shall we? Maybe we can all find new friends this way and get Blogland moving again.... and please feel free to put your own suggestions either in the comments section here, or on your own pages.

I leave a message on each blog that I mention to let the owner know that I've mentioned it here.

And please let me know if you think it's a helpful idea!

So.... for Tylluan's featured blogs Part 1 I present to you:

Frary's Fresh Flowers blog at
http://frarys-fresh-flowers.blog.co.uk/2009/06/29/foxgloves-6422744/

Bushka's blog is always worth a visit: This post is great fun!
http://leaves.blog.co.uk/2009/06/29/bedtime-beckons-6422590/

Seaside Man has been to Glastonbury and has the photos to prove it! You can start catching up with them here:
http://seasideman.blog.co.uk/2009/06/29/a-small-corner-of-one-field-at-glastonbury-6422479/

Garden Girl's blog is worth a visit, too:
http://gardengirl.blog.co.uk/2009/06/29/back-to-work-6419381/

Well, that's it for now - do let me know what you think of this idea!

I have to admit that it's harder for me to write about my mother than it was about my father. I think of all her children, I was her least favourite. But it's not negativity we need here, so I'm going to try and post the good things about her...

Firstly, she had some great sayings:
'I'd rather be envied than pitied,' was her eternal favourite. She was the sort of woman who wouldn't even bring the milk in from the doorstep until she had put on her make up and done her hair.

Another favourite saying was 'I've got the name, now I'll have the game.' This usually meant that she found out people had been saying nasty things about her, and now she was going to live up to the reputation they had given her. Usually she made them wish they hadn't!

She was good with animals, too. She would often say she preferred dogs to people, and I've seen her nurse all sorts of strays, even wild birds, back to health before releasing them into the wild. When one of our pets was ill, I've known her sleep downstairs on the floor beside it until it got better.

The above is not a great deal for someone who featured so large in my life. But it's positive, and that's good.

Now it's your turn to share (if you want to, of course!). I'd love to hear from you!

Yesterday, I blogged about my father, and amongst the comments were some wonderful stories that people shared about their own fathers. Wonderful warm, happy memories. But why did I suddenly change tack so abruptly? I mean, I'd been blogging about psychic self defence for a while and then suddenly there I was talking about my father and his eccentricities.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

The best lessons in magic and spiritual practice shouldn't come across as lessons at all. Things have been getting bleak and nasty in some parts of blogland lately, haven't they? Well, in writing about my father, and in sharing in the stories of your fathers what I was doing was introducing a positive male figure into all this.

The Dad. Your Dad. My Dad. The Dad-we-might-have-liked-to-have-had even. All good men, kind at heart, loving, warm, trustworthy.

Why? Well, a wise man once told me that the best way to stop weeds growing in a garden was to fill it with flowers. So that was what I was trying to do. I was trying to nudge out people (male or female) who are not kind at heart, loving, warm or trustworthy by replacing them with people who possess all those qualities.

And I haven't finished yet. I'm going to blog next about mothers... care to join me?

After all the posts on psychic self defence, you might think that I have gone way off-topic here. But no, I want to talk about the importance of our fathers, and how it affects the rest of our life - for better or worse. A good father can make us stronger, wiser, better people (don't worry, I'll do another post on the importance of mothers!). A bad one can scar us for life.

I have been double lucky. I not only had a good father, I married Mr Penry who has been a wonderful father to all the little Penry's making their way in the world. And having such positive masculine influences in my life have been highly beneficial for me, and for the rest of the family.

But I often blog about Mr Penry. Now I would like to tell you a little about my father. He was definitely an eccentric, in every sense of the word. Totally unlike my friend's fathers, mine would stand on his head to meditate, fill in his Pools Coupons (remember those) with the use of a pendulum, taught me to dowse, pick herbs, make wine... he was clever and ambitious that his children should be clever too. Not because he wanted us to get good jobs, but because he believed that knowledge was the only wealth worth having.

He was also a gifted occultist in his own right, steeped in the western mysteries of the Qabbalah. He owned loads of books on the occult which he obtained when a defrocked priest sold them off! My father was, for some reason, rather chuffed about that!

One great thing about being a writer is that you get to put dedications in your books. And my forthcoming book 'The Magical Properties of Herbs... and how to find them' is dedicated to the memory of my wonderful, eccentric, maddening father.

Would anyone here like to share their memories of their father, and how they feel their lives have been shaped by them?

In an attempt to lighten the mood in Blogland, I thought I would blog a little about childhood. Whether our childhoods were good, bad, happy, stressed or whatever, they have a huge impact on the sort of people we become.

This is why I get so annoyed when people talk about wrapping children in cotton wool. THere is a huge different between taking knives off the little buggers and teaching them to bounce on a trampoline

Where I live, happily, children still appear to be children. Yes, some of them are more pleasant than others, but by and large they still play together and go in large groups up the park to play in the woods and on the mountainside. They also build bogeys and gambos.

For the uninitiated, a bogey or gambo is a wheeled vehicle of sorts, often in the old days it had a converted pram for its base. Down in the city it was called a bogey, up in the valleys it was a gambo (which is Welsh for Hay cart). The really advanced ones had a primitive steering method that relied heavily on thick string. Few had brakes - you either had to run out of steam or crash.

Of course, these makeshift vehicles were not much fun on flat ground. Where I live everything is on a steep hill, which makes them great fun but potentially lethal. So you can imagine my horror a few nights ago when I heard one of these things whizzing past my house (it's a very quiet road) at full speed.

And then there was the inevitable crash. Wood splintered. Wheels jangled, spun endlessly and finally landed. I waited for the scream. There wasn't one. Just a stunned, horrible silence that was somehow even worse. I had visions that they must have knocked themselves out.

And then, just as I was making for the gate to see if they were all right, I heard this childish giggle and a little Welsh voice crying 'Wooooow! That was cooooooool!'

Kids.

I'd love to hear your happy memories of childhood.

Firstly, let nothing that follows detract from the fact that today is the summer solstice. The longest day. The very height of summer. If you can, make the effort to go outside at least for a little while today. You don't have to do any fancy rituals... just enjoy the day for what it offers. Sit and listen... to the birds, to the silence (unless of course the neighbours are out with their pressure washer or strimmer

As for a few words of Witchy wisdom, these are intended to stand you in good stead for the rest of the year. I hope you find them helpful.

1. Just because someone tells you they're a witch, sorcerer, alchemist, alien or teach at Hogwarts does not mean it's true. Witches are as witches do.

2. Be doubly suspicious of those who claim to possess great power. If you have to tell people you have it, then generally you don't.

3. Those who claim 'I am so wicked/powerful/magical (or even magickal ) are talking b****cks. The really powerful ones don't need to give any warning. In fact, they would prefer not to. The others are just trying to intimidate you.

4. Even in the ancient world, a lot of so-called spells were complete cobblers, written only to induce the gullible to part with their money. Even more modern spells fall in this category.

5. Reading a couple of books about Aleister Crowley does not make you a Master or Mistress of the Dark Arts. Nor does wearing black lipstick.

6. Just because someone tells you they can hex you doesn't make it true. In my experience it's just another form of bullying.

7. Fear is the greatest gift you can give a psychic attacker. It's what they feed on. And of course fear breeds fear so it quickly becomes a monster to control. Don't give in to it. Learn to laugh at them. If you find it hard, go out and buy a couple of joke books.

8. Those that really have power do not need to advertise it. No matter how much power someone has, (and I've known a few immensely powerful people in my time) they still prefer the advantage of surprise whenever possible. Those who advertise their power are full of hot air.

9. I cannot stress this one strongly enough - if you suspect someone is hexing you then keep away from them. We have talked about cyber bullying on this blog before - and the only way to deal effectively with it is to stay away from their blogs, delete them as friends, delete any comments that upset you, stay off their MySpace, Facebook, TweetiePie Twitter etc., because otherwise you are keeping the 'red cord' of communication open.
Close all contact.
Suppress all interest.
No longer refer to them by name. He/She-who-must-not-be-named was the way the ancient Egyptians dealt with such people.
That way you will suffocate their intentions.

Pob lwc! (Good luck!)

Brightest blessings
Tylluan

My right arm went numb last night. I know I should have expected it, there have been odd little warning signs over the past few months, but it was still strange, like pins and needles but you don't know why it's there.

And I'd been feeling pretty rough yesterday, so no surprises there.

This morning most of the feeling is back again, although my hand is still cold and the fingers feel weird. I have to be really careful picking things up now, in case I drop them.

And typing anything is a nightmare, and my voice recognition software doesn't seem to respond very well to my accent. (I know you're supposed to be able to 'train' these things, but mine is about as well trained as my dogs )

Now I'm just catching up on my writing as and when. I even managed a sheet full of illustrations last night (before the numbness started) for my book on Runes.

It's a lovely day, and I hope to sit in the garden later. Meanwhile Mr Penry bless him, is fussing over me and not letting me do anything!