Sunday, 1 February 2026

Ouija Boards: Yes or No?

 Ouija boards yes or no?



The Ouija board, often called a spirit board or talking board, has a fascinating history that intertwines 19th-century Spiritualism, American entrepreneurship, and cultural fascination with the afterlife. 


Far from ancient occult origins, the modern Ouija board emerged as a commercial product in the late 1800s, initially marketed as a harmless parlor game rather than a tool for summoning spirits.


Roots in Spiritualism and Precursors

The Ouija board’s story begins with the Spiritualism movement, which gained massive in the United States and Europe during the mid-19th century. Sparked by events like the Fox sisters’ alleged spirit communications in 1848, Spiritualism promised that the dead could contact the living through mediums, raps, automatic writing, and other methods. High mortality from disease, childbirth, and wars (including the American Civil War) fueled a widespread desire for reassurance and connection with lost loved ones. By the 1890s, millions followed Spiritualist beliefs.


Various devices for spirit communication existed long before the Ouija board. In Europe, precursors appeared as early as the 1850s, including patented “psychographs” in Germany and France that used pointers or dials to spell messages, often attributed to ideomotor (more on this later) effects or nervous electricity rather than supernatural forces. In the United States, by the 1880s, Spiritualist camps in places like Ohio used “talking boards”—flat surfaces with letters, numbers, “yes,” and “no,” plus a movable indicator (now called a planchette)—to speed up communication beyond slow table rappings or medium trances. 

Newspaper reports from 1886 described such boards sweeping northern Ohio, inspiring entrepreneurs to see commercial potential.


Invention, Naming, and Patent (1890–1891)

The board that became known as Ouija originated in Baltimore, Maryland, amid this craze. 


Entrepreneurs Charles Kennard (a fertilizer and real-estate businessman) and cabinetmaker E.C. Reiche began producing talking boards around 1886–1890, likely inspired by Ohio reports. Kennard formed the Kennard Novelty Company and brought in investor Elijah Bond, a local attorney, to help patent and market the device.



In 1890, during a session with Bond’s sister-in-law, the medium Helen Peters Nosworthy (a Spiritualist), the group reportedly asked the board what it should be called. The planchette spelled out “O-U-I-J-A.” When asked its meaning, it replied “good luck.” (Some accounts link the word vaguely to the novelist Ouida or a mix of French “oui” and German “ja” for “yes,” but the séance story remains the canonical tale from Kennard himself.)

Bond filed for a patent on May 28, 1890 (U.S. Patent No. 446,054), describing a board with letters, numbers, and a planchette. Initially skeptical, the patent office in Washington, D.C., demanded proof it worked. 


Accompanied by Helen Peters, Bond demonstrated it spelling the examiner’s name—supposedly unknown to them—and the patent was granted on February 10, 1891. Advertisements soon promoted “Ouija, the Wonderful Talking Board” as an oracle and entertaining parlour amusement.


Commercialization and William Fuld Era

The Ouija board was a capitalist venture from the start. Kennard, Bond, and partners sold it as a novelty, not primarily a Spiritualist tool. In 1901, employee William Fuld (who joined early as a foreman) took greater control, renaming the business the Ouija Novelty Company. Fuld aggressively marketed and trademarked aspects of the board, often claiming (controversially) to be its inventor. Legal battles ensued, including disputes with his brother Isaac and former partners over rights. Courts eventually favored Fuld, who dominated production through the early 20th century.


Sales boomed during times of uncertainty:

•  World War I (1914–1918) and the 1918 flu pandemic increased interest in contacting the dead.

•  Spiritualist Pearl Curran popularised automatic writing via Ouija-like methods in the 1910s, producing novels attributed to the spirit “Patience Worth.”

•  The board outsold Monopoly in some years, with peaks in the 1920s (Jazz Age and Prohibition), Great Depression, and 1960s (Vietnam War era, when Parker Brothers sold over 2 million in 1967 alone after acquiring rights).


Cultural Shift and Modern Perception

Initially sold as innocent fun, the Ouija board’s reputation darkened over time. Early 20th-century Spiritualists used it seriously, but religious critics and media sensationalism linked it to the occult. Horror films like The Exorcist (1973) cemented its demonic image, associating it with possession and evil despite scientific explanations (ideomotor effect, where unconscious muscle movements guide the planchette).


Today, the Ouija board—now produced by Hasbro—remains a cultural icon, blending nostalgia, psychology, grief, and superstition. Its history reveals more about human longing for meaning in uncertain times than supernatural forces.

From Spiritualist tool to mass-marketed game, the Ouija board’s evolution reflects America’s blend of faith, commerce, and fear of the unknown.


What do people  say about Ouija boards?

Popular views on Ouija boards (also called spirit boards or talking boards) are sharply divided, often falling into a few main camps. These perspectives come from cultural influences, personal stories, religious beliefs, scientific explanations, and media portrayals


1. They are dangerous portals to evil or demonic forces

This is one of the most widespread and intense views, especially in religious (particularly Christian) communities, horror enthusiasts, and among people who’ve had unsettling personal experiences. Many believe Ouija boards “open doors” that can’t be easily closed, inviting demons, malevolent spirits, or negative entities into your life or home. Warnings often include:

•  Stories of hauntings, possessions, bad luck, or psychological harm following use.

•  Religious condemnations labeling them as divination tools linked to Satanism or the occult.

•  Advice to avoid them entirely, with claims that even “good” sessions can turn sinister.

This view gained massive traction from films like The Exorcist (1973), which tied Ouija use to demonic possession, and has been reinforced by countless anecdotal horror stories shared online (e.g., on Reddit, Facebook, or X/Twitter). Many people who claim negative outcomes describe feeling cursed, hearing voices, or experiencing ongoing disturbances.


2. They are harmless fun or just a game

On the opposite side, plenty of people (including skeptics, casual users, and some paranormal investigators) see Ouija boards as nothing more than a game — like Monopoly with a spooky theme. Hasbro (the current owner) markets it that way. Views here include:

•  Nothing supernatural happens; any movement is due to subconscious actions.

•  Experiences are often boring, silly, or prank-filled when friends mess with the planchette.

•  Claims that fear comes from suggestion and pop culture, not real danger.

Many who’ve used them multiple times report no issues, treating them like any other board game.


3. Scientific / psychological explanation: It’s the ideomotor effect

The mainstream scientific consensus is that Ouija boards don’t involve spirits at all. The planchette moves because of the ideomotor effect ( see later in this article about this) — tiny, unconscious muscle movements by participants who aren’t aware they’re guiding it. Studies (including eye-tracking experiments) show:

•  People subconsciously anticipate and influence answers.

•  The board can feel eerie because it taps into the unconscious mind, making outputs seem external or “other.”

•  This explains why answers sometimes feel personal or accurate — they’re drawn from participants’ own thoughts/knowledge.


Psychologists note that expectation, group dynamics, and cultural priming (e.g., horror movies) amplify the spooky feeling, sometimes leading to real fear or trauma even without anything supernatural.


4. Mixed or “it depends” views

Some occupy a middle ground:

•  They might access the unconscious mind or collective thoughts (more accurate answers than random guessing in some lab tests).

•  Risk depends on the user — inexperienced people or those in vulnerable states might have bad psychological outcomes.

•  Paranormal believers sometimes say they’re tools for communication (not inherently evil), but caution against casual or unskilled use.




The ideomotor effect (also called the ideomotor phenomenon, ideomotor response, or ideomotor reflex) is a well-established psychological phenomenon in which thoughts, ideas, expectations, or mental images trigger subtle, involuntary muscular movements—often without the person’s conscious awareness or deliberate intention.

In simple terms: when you vividly think about or expect a specific action or outcome, your brain can automatically send tiny signals to your muscles to begin that movement, even if you aren’t consciously deciding to do it. These movements are usually very small (micro-movements), but they can be amplified by tools or group dynamics to produce noticeable effects.


Key Characteristics

•  The movements are unconscious — participants genuinely believe they aren’t moving anything themselves.

•  They stem from ideation (ideas or anticipation) rather than voluntary will.

•  The effect is reflexive in nature, similar to how imagining a sour lemon might make your mouth water (an ideo-sensory response, a related concept).

•  It requires no supernatural or external force; it’s purely a product of normal brain-body interaction.



Historical Background

The concept dates back to the mid-19th century, when Spiritualism and phenomena like table-turning, dowsing, and early spirit communication tools were popular.

•  In 1852, British physiologist William Benjamin Carpenter coined the term “ideomotor” (from “ideo” for idea + “motor” for movement) in his paper “On the Influence of Suggestion in Modifying and Directing Muscular Movement, Independently of Volition.” He used it to explain how suggestions or thoughts could produce involuntary actions without conscious effort.

•  Carpenter built on earlier observations, such as those by Michael Faraday in the 1850s, who demonstrated that table-turning (where groups seemed to make tables move or tilt via “spirits”) was actually caused by unconscious muscular pressure from participants.

•  American psychologist William James later incorporated and expanded the idea in his influential 1890 book The Principles of Psychology, describing how merely thinking about an action can lead to subtle execution unless inhibited by conscious control.


A digital copy of this book

Can be downloaded from our online library for free 


The term helped demystify many supposed paranormal activities during an era of fascination with the occult.


Classic Examples and Demonstrations

The ideomotor effect explains several phenomena once attributed to supernatural causes:

•  Ouija boards (or spirit boards): Participants lightly touch a planchette (pointer), ask questions, and watch it move to spell answers. The tiny, unconscious pushes from one or more people—driven by expectations or subconscious knowledge—guide it across the board. Blindfolded tests or when participants don’t know the answers typically produce gibberish or no movement.

•  Dowsing (water witching with rods or pendulums): The rods twitch or cross, or the pendulum swings, in response to the dowser’s subconscious expectations about where water (or answers) might be.

•  Chevreul’s pendulum (a simple self-test): Hang a small weight (like a ring) on a string. Hold it steady and think “yes” (clockwise swing) or “no” (counterclockwise). The pendulum soon begins moving in the expected direction due to unconscious micro-movements in your hand.

•  Automatic writing or facilitated communication: The hand moves to write messages without full conscious control.

•  Other applications appear in hypnosis (ideomotor signaling, like finger movements for “yes/no” answers from the subconscious) and even sports psychology (visualising perfect technique to prime subtle muscle activation).




Scientific Explanation

Modern neuroscience views the ideomotor effect as part of how the brain plans and initiates actions. When we anticipate a sensory outcome (e.g., “the planchette will move to YES”), our motor system prepares the associated movements. Inhibitory mechanisms usually prevent full action, but faint signals leak through as tiny twitches—especially when attention is focused elsewhere or expectation is strong.

Studies show these movements are real and measurable, but they originate internally from the participant’s own mind and body, not external entities. It’s a normal feature of human physiology, tied to concepts like motor imagery, priming, and automaticity in behavior.

In short, the ideomotor effect reveals how powerfully our thoughts and expectations can influence the body below the level of conscious awareness—turning “mind over matter” into a purely natural, non-mystical process. This explains many eerie experiences without needing to invoke the paranormal.


Overall, Ouija boards remain polarizing because of their long history (popularised in the 19th-century Spiritualism movement for contacting the dead) and heavy media presence in horror. Pop culture keeps them “edgy” or trendy (e.g., Ouija-themed merchandise), while religious and experiential warnings keep the fear alive. Personal stories range from “life-changingly terrifying” to “totally uneventful,” so opinions often depend on what someone has heard, seen, or experienced themselves.


If you’re curious about trying one, the safest bet according to most sources (scientific and cautious alike) is to approach with heavy skepticism — or skip it entirely if the risk of freaking yourself out outweighs the curiosity!

Our advice? If you aren’t absolutely sure about what you’re doing and why and the people you’re doing it with we advise caution. Such devices are , by themselves, harmless and just an inanimate object. It is the energy, emotions,  mental state and preconceptions that make these boards produce erratic , useless or dangerous but necessarily due to whether they actually connect to anything or anyone but their use can and have affected people and caused problems especially terms of mental health.

Saturday, 31 January 2026

Hathor



 In the veiled dawning of the world, when the primeval waters still hummed with unborn light, there arose Hathor, the Golden One, whose name whispers “House of Horus”—the celestial womb wherein the falcon of the sky nests

She is no mere deity pinned to papyrus or temple wall; she is the living pulse of joy that courses through creation, the ecstatic current that binds the visible to the invisible.

Picture her: a woman of burnished copper skin, crowned with the moon-white curve of cow horns embracing a blazing solar disk. The horns cradle Ra’s fire as a mother cradles flame—tender yet untamed. At other times she lowers her head entirely into the form of the celestial cow, Mehet-Weret, vast and star-dappled, her belly the arched firmament from which the Nile’s milk pours each inundation.




 Her eyes are twin mirrors of lapis and turquoise, reflecting every lover’s gaze back upon itself until the soul drowns sweetly in recognition


.

Hathor is love, yes—but not the timid affection of mortals. Hers is the primordial eros that surges through the cosmos: the drumbeat that quickens the womb, the sistrum’s shiver that scatters sorrow like dust before dawn, the drunken laughter rising from festival nights when beer flows red as the blood she once drank to calm her rage. For she is also the Eye of Ra, the avenging daughter who became Sekhmet, lioness of slaughter, until the gods dyed beer with ochre and pomegranate to mimic gore; she drank, grew merry, and remembered her softer name. In that instant duality is revealed—not contradiction, but completion. Destruction and delight are twin breasts of the same divine body.



Mystics of old knew her as Mistress of the Sistrum, whose sacred rattle shakes apart stagnation and calls the ka back to the body. Her music is not entertainment; it is spellcraft. 




The notes of the menat necklace clatter like stars falling into alignment; the chant of her priestesses—swaying, anointed with lotus and myrrh—lifts the veil between worlds. She presides over birth and rebirth alike: midwife to queens, nourisher of the dead in the Duat, Lady of the West who welcomes souls with open arms and the scent of sycamore figs. Gold itself is her skin; turquoise her laughter frozen in stone; every glittering gem a tear of joy she shed when the cosmos first sang.


In esoteric breath she reaches beyond Kemet. Modern seekers hear echoes of her in the Hathors—interdimensional voices of compassion and sonic healing, emanating from Sirius through Venusian ethers, reminding that pleasure is holy path, not distraction. To dance in abandon, to love without shame, to intoxicate the senses until ego dissolves—these are her initiations. She teaches that ecstasy is the shortest road to the divine, that the body is temple and altar in one.


O Golden Mistress, O Lady of Jubilation,

you who fill the sky with motes of living sunlight,

you who rise in the east and set in the west of every heart—

teach us to sway as the Nile sways,

to roar as you roared before you laughed,

to embrace the whole of existence without division.

For in Hathor there is no separation between milk and venom, between cradle and grave, between the drunken feast and the silent tomb. She is the great reconciler, the song beneath all songs, the radiant silence after the sistrum falls still.

May her horns cradle your dreams,

may her sun disk warm the hidden chambers of your soul,

and may you, like the ancients, drink deep of her golden intoxication—

until you remember:

you too are born of joy,

and to joy you shall return.