In Tibetan tantric Buddhism, the image of the snake trapped in a bamboo tube is more than a vivid proverb. It functions as a doctrinal warning: once a student enters the tantric path, there is no lateral escape. One either goes upward toward awakening or downward toward failure and “vajra hell.” Teachers have used this image to describe the uncompromising nature of samaya, the vows that bind a student to the guru, the deity, and the tantric methods themselves.¹
What is striking is how explicitly the tradition frames tantra as irreversible and high-stakes, and how rarely that stark truth is communicated to Western beginners before they agree to the vows that supposedly make the tube snap shut behind them. This mismatch between traditional warning and Western presentation is not a minor detail; it shapes the entire experience of Vajrayāna in modern contexts.
When the Warning Arrives Too Late
Many longtime practitioners have reported that the “snake in the tube” metaphor is introduced only after they have taken empowerments, established loyalty to the teacher, and accepted vows they did not fully understand. In one account, students were told after receiving advanced teachings that they were now like snakes [in a tube] with no side exit, and that questioning or leaving the guru’s authority carried dire karmic consequences.² Once framed in these terms, the student is no longer encountering tantra freely. The imagery becomes a retrospective justification for total commitment and an interpretive trap that discourages reevaluation, dissent or disengagement.
This sequencing matters. Warnings given after the student is already inside the tube are not warnings at all; they function as a mechanism of control. Sadly, it’s not just empty scaremongering to get the student to do whatever the teacher wants. The teacher can play a part in destroying the student if he wishes.
Western students, however, often enter tantra without the cultural framework that understands concepts like vajra–hell, and as a result frequently interpret them metaphorically or ignore them altogether during empowerments or teachings. As a result, the gravity of samaya is often hidden in plain sight. Students may assume that vows are symbolic or aspirational when, within the tradition, they are treated as binding conditions that determine spiritual destiny.
The asymmetry of information here is profound. Tibetan teachers know the stakes, but Western students usually do not.
Fear as a Reinforcing Mechanism
Inside the tantric system, samaya is often discussed as a bond of trust and devotion. But its shadow side is rarely addressed openly: the way threats of karmic ruin can be used to enforce silence and obedience. If leaving the guru, criticizing harmful behavior, or even doubting the teacher’s purity is framed as a breach of samaya, then fear becomes central to the student’s experience. Some Tibetan masters teach that both teacher and student can fall into vajra-hell for damaging the guru-disciple bond.³ In practice, however, this warning is most often directed at students, who are told that speaking publicly about misconduct or abuse may destroy their spiritual future.
Why the Snake Matters
The “snake in the bamboo tube” metaphor distills these concerns with unusual clarity. It shows that tantra is not designed to allow experimentation or partial commitment. It requires total participation in a closed system with its own rules, hierarchies, and cosmology. In cultures where this system has historically been embedded, those entering it do so in fuller awareness of the stakes. In the West, students often do not and they may hear such warnings in a highly suggestible state, without really grasping the implications.
One famous guru in the 1980s bluntly told students that they could be both Christian and Buddhist with no conflict whatsoever. This blatantly goes against Christian teaching. In those days Westerners were often thrust into the three-year-retreat program shortly after they signed up for teachings at Dharma centers with no knowledge of what they were really getting into. Many had little preparation to truly understand the arcane nature of samaya and its risks. Furthermore, many Tibetan teachers took advantage of their roles as authority figures to manipulate vulnerable students into sexual relationships and other sorts of commitments. Engaging in secretive sexual relationships with students while pressuring them to take highest yoga tantra vows and practices that would bind them forever often led to deep confusion and psychological unmooring.
The result is a form of spiritual engagement that looks consensual on the surface but lacks true informed consent. Students may be drawn in by promises of transformation but only later discover the rigidity of the commitments they have made. This is especially jarring given that Vajrayāna wraps together the renunciation of the Hinayāna, the boundless compassion of the Mahāyāna, and the esoteric demands of tantra. In this unwieldy fusion, the same tradition that teaches gentle observation of thoughts can also insist that a single critical thought toward one’s guru carries the weight of karmic catastrophe. The threat of vajra-hell sits uneasily beside Buddhism’s wider emphasis on compassion and non-judgment. An ethical issue looms large: a path that describes itself as having no side exit should not be offered as if it does.
To treat tantra’s danger as a secret or secondary detail is to undermine the integrity of the path itself. If practitioners are indeed snakes in a tube, they deserve to be told before they go inside.
Footnotes
¹ “Once you take samaya you become like a snake in a vertical bamboo tube: you’re either going up, or you’re going down. You can’t sneak out the side.” (Kun zang.org) (kunzang.org) ² Note: practitioner-reports and forum posts indicate the metaphor is often applied post-initiation. For example: “A Vajrayana practitioner is like a snake in a tube; … he can either go up or down, not left or right.” (dharmawheel.net) ³ “The metaphor for samaya is a snake in a bamboo tube. It has only 2 directions – up to enlightenment or down to the hells.” (TibetDharma.com) (Tibetan Buddhism)
Based on Mary Garden’s article “The Potential for Abuse in the Guru-Disciple Relationship,” Cult Recovery 101
“No amount of evidence, nor the quality of it, will serve to un-convince the true believer. Their belief is something they not only want, they need it.” –James Randi
For decades, the Western imagination has romanticized the guru-disciple relationship: the wise, enlightened master guiding the humble seeker toward liberation. Yet beneath the rosy image lies a power dynamic that can turn toxic, even violent. Mary Garden’s searing account strips away the mystique, showing how devotion can be exploited to serve the ego, desires, and domination of the so-called spiritual elite.
A Pattern Hidden in Plain Sight
The dynamics Garden describes are not confined to Hindu ashrams or Indian gurus. They echo almost perfectly the same mechanisms of control found in certain strains of tantric practices within Tibetan Buddhism. These are systems where teachers are often elevated to godlike status and obedience is framed as the fast track to enlightenment. In both cases, devotion becomes a weapon that protects the guru from scrutiny, while binding the disciple to them even in the face of blatant harm.
Surrender Without Safeguards
Garden recalls her own journey in the 1970s, moving between ashrams in search of enlightenment. She describes the intoxicating joy of initiation, the chants, the sense of belonging, and the ecstatic highs that felt like spiritual transformation. But once she became a guru’s favored consort, the darkness emerged. The same man who preached divine wisdom alternated between seduction and brutal rage, even physically assaulting others in her presence. At one point she became pregnant by him and he blamed her for it and forced her to have an abortion.
The culture of total surrender made resistance almost unthinkable. Cruelty was reframed as a test of faith, abuse as a blessing, and every whim of the guru as cosmic law. The environment rewarded silence and punished doubt. Those who questioned were shamed, isolated, or cast out.
How Control Works
Her experience, echoed in countless other testimonies, reveals the common mechanics of spiritual exploitation:
Deification of the teacher silences doubt and criticism
Induced dependency through mystical highs and identity fusion
Rationalized harm presented as discipline or “divine play”
Social entrapment that makes leaving a spiritual, financial, and emotional crisis
The Cost of Leaving
Breaking free meant dismantling not only her faith in the guru, but also her connection to the community, the esoteric practices, and the sense of higher purpose she had built her life around. Even after witnessing violence firsthand, many of her peers remained loyal, their belief immune to any evidence of harm.
Lessons for the Seeker
Garden’s testimony is not a blanket condemnation of spiritual practice. It is a warning: any system that demands unquestioning obedience to a single human being, no matter how radiant their smile or lofty their words, contains the seed of abuse. Without discernment and the freedom to question, devotion can slide into bondage.
In her closing words, Garden writes, “The guru-disciple relationship is probably the most authoritarian of all in its demands for surrender and obedience. Hence it can be the most destructive. Far from achieving the enlightenment and freedom that many of us ‘wannabe’ spiritual pioneers of the 1970s sought and were promised, we experienced mental imprisonment and confusion. We were seduced by yogis and swamis telling us what we wanted to hear: that we were special and that they were God incarnate. Our need was our downfall. And if we escaped, we often carried lingering doubts: Was it just me? Did I fail? Did I give up too soon?”
Source: Mary Garden, The Potential for Abuse in the Guru-Disciple Relationship, Cult Recovery 101. Read the original article here.
Tantric initiation (Vajrayana empowerment) is often described as a ritual that grants permission to engage in deity yoga and awaken one’s inner Buddha-nature. Yet traditional Tibetan sources suggest that something more mystical and intrusive is occurring, that the lama actually places the deity’s essence into the disciple’s mindstream. This critical detail, essentially the guru implanting or merging the deity (yidam) with the initiate’s mind, is conspicuously absent in most contemporary teachings.
This article examines classical tantras and commentaries to determine whether they explicitly describe the guru installing the deity in the disciple’s mind. It then compares that understanding with modern teachings, exposing a deliberate omission that raises serious questions about transparency in Vajrayana transmission.
Traditional Teachings on Tantric Empowerment
In Vajrayana Buddhism, empowerment (Tib. wang, Skt. abhisheka) is essential. “In the Secret Mantra Vehicle, there can be no accomplishment without empowerment.”¹ Classical definitions stress that this is not merely symbolic but a ritual that transforms the disciple’s mindstream.
According to the Rigpa Wiki, empowerment “awakens the special capacity for primordial wisdom to arise in the mind of the disciple.”² The Dalai Lama’s teachings on the Kalachakra Tantra state the guru “ripens the disciple’s psycho-physical continuum with the initiations.”³ Traditional analogies liken this to planting a seed that, with the right conditions, will grow into Buddhahood. This “seed” is not just metaphorical but is a spiritual presence that enters the disciple.
Tantric texts and commentaries describe empowerment as a mystical transmission wherein the wisdom deity (jnanasattva) is invited to enter the samaya deity (samayasattva), the visualized form of the disciple. Sam van Schaik summarizes: “in empowerment… the wisdom being becomes embodied in the samaya being.”⁴ The two minds are joined.
Instructions for such ceremonies explain that the lama generates themselves as the deity and transmits that awakened essence into the disciple through vase water, mantras, and gestures. The disciple visualizes the deity dissolving into themselves, signifying that the deity’s mind is being placed within them. Lineage sources stress that the lama must already hold the deity’s realization in order to transmit it. As one commentary puts it: “You have to hold something in you before you can give it.”⁵
In short, classical sources affirm that empowerment involves the lama implanting the deity’s essence into the disciple. Without this, Vajrayana texts say, real accomplishment is impossible, “like trying to press oil from sand.”
Does the Lama Literally Install a Deity?
While ancient texts may not use the modern phrase “implant the deity,” their intent is clear. An authoritative Kagyu explanation says the lama “places a recipient in connection with a particular Tantric deity,” enabling a “merging of essences.” This “connection” implies not just a symbolic affiliation but a mystical joining.
The empowerment ritual is the cause that activates and personifies the disciple’s Buddha-nature as a specific deity. This is not something the student can do alone; it requires the guru’s intervention. In Highest Yoga Tantra, multiple initiations (vase, secret, wisdom, word) facilitate this process in stages. During empowerment, the disciple imagines themselves as the deity (samaya being) and invites the wisdom deity to enter. When the two merge, the disciple becomes “in union” with the deity.
Some texts describe this as light or energy entering the disciple symbolizing the deity’s mind entering their heart. The Indian master Vilāsavajra described the climax of empowerment as a point when “wisdom and samaya come together.”⁶ The disciple leaves not just authorized but changed, carrying the seed of the deity from that point forward.
Jamgön Kongtrul writes that empowerment “introduces the disciple into the deity’s mandala” and allows the deity’s form and wisdom to “take root.”⁷ A Nyingma commentary states the guru, visualized as the deity, dissolves into the disciple, granting the blessing of the deity’s mind. Even the phrase “blessings enter the disciple’s stream” implies the transfer of a conscious presence.
In effect, tantric empowerment functions like a spiritual implantation, or even possession, in which the enlightened mind of the deity is placed into the disciple. The initiate now carries the deity within them, not merely as a concept but a living presence.
Modern Teachings: Omission or Adaptation?
If this is the traditional view, why don’t modern teachers say so? Contemporary teachings, especially those aimed at Western or general audiences, consistently describe empowerment in vague terms: permission, inspiration, activation of inner potential. The mystical detail of the lama implanting the deity is nearly always omitted.
In a transcribed teaching from a famous lama, now deceased (see below), empowerment is described as a prerequisite for deity meditation: the disciple receives empowerment, then instructions, and cultivates their body as the deity’s form. No mention is made of the lama placing anything into the disciple. It reads more like ceremonial enrollment than spiritual fusion.
This pattern is widespread: contemporary teachers often emphasize psychological language such as inner transformation, personal growth, and discovering potential, while minimizing the traditional notion of external metaphysical transmission. For instance, the Rubin Museum describes empowerment as a “ritual to introduce us to our own innermost Buddha qualities,”⁸ rather than as the reception of a deity from the lama. Such a framing casts the guru as a guide rather than a spiritual agent. However, this reinterpretation flattens the ritual’s ontological depth and misrepresents the original esoteric function of empowerment.
Even phrases like “placing the disciple in connection with the deity” or “ripening the mindstream” are left undefined. Many Vajrayana students, unless they study technical commentaries, may never realize that the tradition sees empowerment as a supernatural event. The omission is so consistent that one might suspect it’s intentional, perhaps to avoid alarming newcomers with the idea of having a foreign spirit installed in their mind.
Secrecy and Obfuscation in Vajrayana
To understand this omission, we must examine the role of secrecy. Vajrayana has always been esoteric. Revealing inner teachings to the uninitiated is a root downfall. As such, teachers often avoid revealing too much, especially in public settings.
Defenders of this approach argue that it’s compassionate: premature disclosure can cause misunderstanding or fear. Teachings are “graduated” and deeper layers revealed as the student progresses. In this view, the omission is considered skillful, not deceptive.
Yet critics argue that this secrecy amounts to intentional obfuscation in the modern information age. Newcomers are told that Vajrayana is about archetypes and psychological growth; this is appealing, secular-friendly language. Only later do they learn that the practice involves guru-bestowed metaphysical empowerment and deity implantation.
Few Vajrayana centers provide an upfront disclosure like: “In this empowerment, you will vow lifelong devotion and we believe that the deity’s mind will enter into yours.” Without this, informed consent becomes impossible. What if the student has been raised Christian and bound by the First Commandment: “You shall not have strange gods before Me”⁹? Would they agree to deity possession if fully informed?
The disconnect between outer presentation and inner doctrine has led some former practitioners to label the tradition dishonest. Years may pass before students learn that guru-deity fusion/possession are standard parts of the system. At that point, it may be too late as they’ve taken vows, invested emotionally, and become spiritually entangled.
Some defenders argue that Vajrayana’s opacity is necessary, that it was never meant for everyone. But in modern multi-cultural societies, this clandestine approach resembles a bait-and-switch. Students sign up for meditation, not spiritual merging with an imported god. They deserve to know what they’re consenting to.
Restoring Honesty in Transmission
Is omitting the “deity implantation” deceptive? From an academic standpoint, the answer is yes: there is a clear disconnect between traditional texts and public presentation. The idea that the guru installs a deity in the disciple’s mindstream is a core teaching, not a fringe view.
Yet most public talks and introductory texts never say this plainly. The true nature of the ritual, guru/deity fusion with the recipient, is hidden behind euphemism. This may prevent questions, but it is morally dishonest.
Vajrayana dharma centers must move toward transparency. Honesty about what is really occurring would both honor the teaching and protect the student. That this is seldom done nowadays is deeply disturbing.
In a predominantly Christian culture, where devotion to other gods violates divine commandments, the omission is not just deceptive, it’s a spiritual breach of consent. Prospective practitioners deserve to know what is happening before the ritual occurs, not after.
The tradition holds that through the guru’s blessing, one’s mind becomes inseparable from the deity. Then let us insist that teachers explain that clearly, before it is too late for the recipient to turn back.
Sources:
Traditional Vajrayana saying; cited in various commentarial teachings on abhisheka.
His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, Kalachakra Initiation Teachings.
Sam van Schaik, “The Limits of Transgression: The Samaya Vows of Mahāyoga” (2010).
Ngawang Phuntsok, On Receiving Wang (Empowerment).
Vilāsavajra, commentary on tantric vows; source referenced in academic discussion on Mahāyoga.
Jamgön Kongtrul, The Treasury of Knowledge, Book Eight, Part Three: The Elements of Tantric Practice.
Scott Globus, “Empowerments: Awakening the Buddha Within,” Rubin Museum, 2021.
Exodus 20:3, The Holy Bible.
Kalu Rinpoche – Teachings on Karmamudra and Mahamudra–California, Los Angeles, December 21, 1988
Transcript:
The gentleman is asking whether there is any connection between the traditional Buddhist approach to tantric practice and various sexual yogas—whether these practices have any bearing on the traditional path or whether that’s a misconception.
Yes, there is a connection. Previously, I spoke of the four major classes of tantra: Kriya Tantra, Charya Tantra, Yoga Tantra, and the fourth, Anuttara Yoga Tantra, or the Tantra of Unsurpassable Union. This fourth category is divided into Father Tantra, Mother Tantra, and Non-dual Tantra.
Principally in the classes of Mother and Non-dual Tantra, there are techniques involving sexual union as a basis for spiritual practice, technically termed karma mudra. These practices form part of a broader cycle known as the teachings on the Four Mudras. These teachings, as taught by the Buddha, are authentic and part of the tradition—the challenge lies in practicing them purely.
Traditionally, an individual would first undergo a long period of purification—purifying body, speech, and mind from harmful actions and obscurations, while cultivating positive qualities like merit and awareness. This is done through preliminary practices known as ngöndro.
Next, the individual would receive an authentic empowerment into one of the major tantric cycles from a qualified teacher. They would then receive extensive instruction in deity meditation and cultivate the experience of their own body as the deity’s form—experiencing the union of form and emptiness not as an idea, but as direct realization. Their speech would become the union of sound and emptiness, often practiced through extensive mantra recitation. They would also cultivate the awareness of mind as the union of intelligent clarity and emptiness, stabilizing it through meditative absorption.
Following this, the person would practice tummo or inner heat. This practice is done in stages and begins with the generation of inner warmth at the navel. As the warmth spreads, energy from the crown of the head flows downward. Through mastery of this flow, the practitioner experiences a profound bliss that pervades the mind-body complex.
Advanced stages involve focusing energy through the chakras. When energy is drawn to the throat, joy arises. At the heart, sublime joy. At the navel, special joy. And when energy is drawn down and contained within the genital chakra, co-emergent joy. Karma mudra practice requires the ability to hold this energy without losing it through orgasm. This leads to a nondual, non-conceptual state of awareness.
Eventually, the practitioner reverses the flow of energy upward through the chakras. Mastery over lowering and raising energy is required before karma mudra practice can be properly undertaken. With that mastery, energy is consciously directed through the 72,000 subtle channels (nadis) in the body. The ultimate aim is not sexual pleasure, but realization of Mahamudra.
Examples of individuals who attained enlightenment through such practices include the Indian king Indrabhuti, who is said to have relied on 1,000 consorts over six years. Tibetan lay practitioners like Marpa the Translator—who had eight consorts—are also examples. These paths exist, but must be practiced with purity and commitment.
Misunderstanding these practices—believing tantra is simply about sex—is a serious mistake. One of the 14 root downfalls in Vajrayana practice involves this misunderstanding, particularly the indulgence in orgasm, which is seen as a loss of energy that could otherwise be harnessed for enlightenment.
Another audience question asked about how long to leave a corpse undisturbed after death. In Tibetan tradition, the consciousness remains associated with the body for about 3.5 days. During this time, the body should ideally not be touched. A practitioner of phowa (transference of consciousness) is then called to assist the consciousness in departing skillfully.
After that, the body may be disposed of through burial, water burial, or cremation—accompanied by ritual and chanting to aid the consciousness. These practices can still be valuable even in cultures where such methods are not common, and ideally a phowa practitioner should be contacted if possible.
Another question asked whether one can attain liberation in a single lifetime through tantra. The answer is yes—realization of Buddhahood is possible. However, the physical manifestations may differ from those of a SambhogakayaBuddha, who displays specific physical marks of perfection. Still, the inner realization can be the same.
To discern an authentic teacher, look for someone with an unbroken lineage, proper transmission, sincere motivation, and correct understanding. Avoid teachers who have been disowned by their own lineage, or who act out of selfish motives. Examine their character, conduct, and consistency with traditional teachings.
In closing, the speaker encourages all listeners to study, practice, and seek qualified teachers. The merit of the teaching session is dedicated to the awakening of all sentient beings from ignorance, and the spreading of primordial awareness so that all beings may eventually attain Buddhahood.
In Hilary Mantel’s The Mirror and the Light, Thomas Cromwell rises from blacksmith’s son to the right hand of King Henry VIII. He becomes the monarch’s “mirror and light,” reflecting and executing his will. But the same proximity that elevates him also destroys him. When Cromwell fails to deliver a pleasing queen, he is arrested, disgraced, and executed, his closeness to power proving fatal.
Tibetan tantric Buddhism operates on a hauntingly similar logic. In this tradition, the guru is king, and the disciple, like a courtier, is raised or destroyed at the guru’s whim. Far from being egalitarian or purely spiritual, Tibetan Buddhism, especially in its institutional forms, retains a deeply feudal structure, complete with titles, inheritance, land ownership, and enforced hierarchy.¹
Tibetan Buddhism as a Feudal System
For centuries, Tibetan Buddhism was not just a religion but the ruling system of the nation. The Dalai Lama was both spiritual sovereign and temporal king. Monasteries controlled vast tracts of land, collected taxes, and held legal authority over villages.² Senior lamas, often reincarnated tulkus, inherited wealth and power from their predecessors, a system akin to aristocracy by divine right. Large institutions like Drepung, Sera, and Tashi Lhunpo amassed political influence and wealth, with monasteries owning up to two-thirds of arable land in pre-1950s Tibet.³
The tulku system (identifying reincarnated masters) consolidated this feudalism. Wealth and authority passed to a chosen child, often from a high-status family, and the child was installed into a network of patronage, where senior monks managed the estate until the tulku matured. Ordinary monks and villagers remained economically dependent on these institutions, often working the land in exchange for spiritual services and blessings.⁴ According to historian Melvyn Goldstein, Tibetan society was “essentially a form of monastic feudalism.”⁵
The Guru as King: Absolute Power
In the Vajrayāna path, the guru is not merely a teacher: he is treated as the Buddha himself. Vajrayāna texts warn against questioning the guru, no matter how erratic or abusive his behavior.⁶ Students are bound by samaya (tantric vows), which demand total obedience, silence, and loyalty. In this relationship, the disciple becomes like Cromwell: a mirror for the guru’s will, performing rituals, making offerings, and receiving favor or punishment.
This closeness creates the illusion of intimacy, even love. Many disciples report feeling spiritually chosen or singled out by the guru. But this intimacy masks a darker truth: it is conditional and instrumental. When the disciple fails to satisfy the guru, by asking questions, expressing trauma, or failing to uphold impossible vows, they are cast out. Not just socially, but cosmically.⁷
Falling Out of Favor: Spiritual Annihilation
When a disciple displeases a guru in these feudal tantric systems, the consequences are severe. Historically, punishments ranged from beatings and public shaming to exile from the monastic estate.⁸ In modern times, exile takes subtler forms: ostracism, reputation assassination, spiritual gaslighting, and the threat of karmic damnation. Survivors of abuse report being told they were “possessed by demons,” “breaking their samaya,” or “falling into the lower realms” simply for speaking out.⁹
Just like Henry VIII’s wives or ministers, the disciple who falls out of favor is ritually erased. Their years of devotion are forgotten; their insights mocked. The same master who called them “special” now identifies them as a threat to the dharma. The disciple’s proximity to power becomes their undoing.
When the Light Burns
The title The Mirror and the Light is tragically fitting for both Thomas Cromwell and the countless disciples who believed that closeness to the guru meant safety. In Tibetan tantric Buddhism’s feudal framework, it often means the opposite. Disciples serve as tools of the guru’s charisma, devotion, and control. When they no longer reflect his will, they are discarded and spiritually “executed” without ceremony.
Just as Cromwell’s brilliance could not save him, neither can sincerity or devotion save a disciple in a rigged, feudal system.
Footnotes
Geoffrey Samuel, Civilized Shamans: Buddhism in Tibetan Societies (Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993), pp. 22–29.
Melvyn C. Goldstein, A History of Modern Tibet, Volume 1: The Demise of the Lamaist State (University of California Press, 1989), pp. 80–95.
Matthew T. Kapstein, The Tibetans (Wiley-Blackwell, 2006), pp. 142–148.
Toni Huber and Stuart Blackburn, Origins of the Tulku System in The Social History of Tibetan Institutions (Brill, 2002).
Goldstein, History of Modern Tibet, p. 90.
Alex Wayman, The Role of the Guru in Vajrayana, in Tibetan Buddhism: Reason and Revelation, ed. S. Lopez (SUNY Press, 1997).
Miranda Adams, Samaya and Silence: Enforcing Obedience in Vajrayana Communities, unpublished thesis, 2020.
Janet Gyatso, Being Human in a Buddhist World (Columbia University Press, 2015), ch. 3.
Annabella Pitkin, “Broken Samaya and the Threat of Hell: Devotion, Dissent, and Control in Contemporary Tibetan Buddhism,” Journal of Global Buddhism, Vol. 22 (2021).
Tantric Deception 