Tag: informed consent

When Killing Becomes Samaya: The Tantric Obligation to “Liberate” Those Who Break the Vajra Bond

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Illustration: Tomb of the Unknown Samaya-Breaker

People who enter Tibetan Buddhist tantra are frequently warned about samaya, the sacred commitments created through tantric empowerment. They may be told that breaking samaya with the vajra master can lead to terrible karmic consequences, illness, obstacles, or rebirth in Vajra Hell. What they are much less likely to be told is that Tibetan tantric literature also contains another side of the samaya system: traditions in which killing itself can become a tantric commitment, and in which samaya-breakers are explicitly identified as targets of wrathful ritual.

This is not an accusation constructed from hostile accounts of Tibetan Buddhism. It appears in Buddhist tantric texts, Tibetan biographies, ritual manuals, and the work of contemporary scholars of Tibetan religion.

One of the clearest examples comes from the life of the eleventh-century translator and tantric master Rwa Lotsawa Dorje Drak, famed for his mastery of Vajrabhairava, a wrathful form associated with Yamāntaka.

According to Rwa Lotsawa’s Tibetan biography, an abbot named Skyo ’Dul ’dzin publicly accused him of behavior unbecoming a Buddhist teacher. Among the accusations was the charge that Rwa used black magic to kill people.

Rwa did not simply deny it. He reportedly answered:

If I kill people, I do it only to those who are samaya-breakers. This is a tantric commitment.”

Rwa then declared that the abbot himself had become a samaya-breaker because of his wrong views and predicted that he would “depart” after seven days. According to the biography, seven days later the abbot became paralyzed and died. [1]

This story is preserved in the Tibetan biographical tradition and discussed by scholar Aleksandra Wenta in her study of Yamāntaka and ritual conflict. Wenta traces the episode both to the biography of Rwa Lotsawa written by his grandnephew, Rwa Yeshé Sengé, and to a later seventeenth-century history of the Vajrabhairava-Yamāntaka cycle. [2]

It would be easy to dismiss such a story as medieval legend. The problem is that Rwa’s statement about killing as a “tantric commitment” has a much larger textual context.

When not killing becomes the transgression

Jacob Dalton, a leading scholar of Tibetan tantric history, documents one of the clearest examples in The Taming of the Demons: Violence and Liberation in Tibetan Buddhism.

Dalton discusses a tantric confession text attributed to King Indrabhūti called the Confession for the Root and Branch Downfalls of the Vajrayāna. The practitioner does not confess to having killed someone. He confesses to having failed to do so.

Dalton translates the confession:

I confess that I have not annihilated and been loving toward those persons who do not believe in, or who despise and deprecate, the lama, the three jewels, and the Vajrayāna of Secret Mantra.”

Dalton explicitly describes this as a confession by practitioners who had neglected their vows to kill. [3]

The wording deserves close attention. The practitioner confesses that he has failed to “annihilate and been loving toward” those who reject or disparage the lama, the Three Jewels, and Secret Mantra Vajrayāna. The words “annihilate” and “loving” appear together.

This exposes one of the most troubling features of the tantric justification for ritual violence. Destruction can be recast as benevolence toward the person being destroyed. Within that moral logic, killing need not be understood as hatred of an enemy. It can instead be presented as a compassionate or loving tantric act.

Once violence is defined as compassion, the ordinary moral objection to it has been effectively reversed. The practitioner can believe that destroying an opponent is compatible with benevolent intention, while refusing to perform the required destructive act can become something requiring confession.

Dalton’s evidence raises a more serious issue than whether tantric descriptions of killing are “symbolic” or “literal.” It shows a religious framework capable of redefining destructive action as spiritually beneficial action. The person performing it may understand himself not as violating Buddhist ethics, but as fulfilling a higher tantric obligation.

For someone designated a samaya-breaker, that distinction would offer little reassurance. The very category that ordinarily protects another person from violence–compassion–has been incorporated into the justification for the violence itself. This is extraordinary when you think about it. It is also difficult to reconcile with the common modern presentation of tantric violence as nothing more than symbolic imagery representing the destruction of ego, anger, ignorance, or other internal obstacles.

Dalton is careful about the historical evidence. Scholars cannot know how often practitioners enacted such prescriptions literally. Tantric commentators sometimes interpreted violent commands metaphorically, and Dalton considers it likely that both approaches existed: many understood them figuratively, while some practitioners performed violent rites literally. [4]

But the textual point remains. The confession presupposes circumstances in which failing to perform destructive action constitutes a tantric failure. That is far removed from a simple prohibition against killing.

The older Mahāyoga samayas

Sam van Schaik finds the same reversal in early Tibetan Mahāyoga literature preserved among the Dunhuang manuscripts.

In “The Limits of Transgression: The Samaya Vows of Mahāyoga,” van Schaik examines early systems of tantric commitments in which older Buddhist prohibitions were transformed. Some Mahāyoga samaya systems contained positive injunctions concerning actions normally prohibited by Buddhist morality. Killing was among them. [5]

Van Schaik’s research is especially important because these are not late Tibetan legends about eccentric or “crazy wisdom” yogis. They are early manuscript witnesses to the formation of Tibetan tantric practice.

The samaya system established what a tantric practitioner was obligated to maintain. Under particular ritual and doctrinal conditions, practices normally classified as grave wrongdoing could become components of tantric discipline itself.

Dalton describes the same transformation in Mahāyoga. He notes that ritualized sex and violence became central elements in this literature and points to the Guhyasamāja Tantra’s deliberate inversion of ordinary Buddhist rules. [6]

The moral logic had been reversed. Under particular tantric conditions, killing could cease to be treated as the violation of a vow. Failing to perform it could itself become the violation.

“Liberation” really does mean killing in these instances

Much turns on the Tibetan word sgrol ba, usually translated as “liberation.” In Buddhist usage, “liberation” usually refers to enlightenment or freedom from samsaric suffering. In some wrathful rites, however, the same word functions as a euphemism for killing.

Modern explanations can create the impression that these texts are speaking only metaphorically, but scholars working directly with the ritual literature have been explicit about what the term can signify.

At the 2025 Congress of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, Sonam Choden presented research on the tantric categories known as the “seven transgressors” and the “ten fields of liberation.” The published conference abstract describes “liberation” in this context as “a euphemism for killing.” [7]

At the same conference, Bruno Galasek-Hul presented research on ritual violence in the canonical Yamāntaka corpus. According to his abstract, Rwa Lotsawa states in his commentary on the Vajramahābhairava Tantra that killing, bsad pa in Tibetan, is “the chief practice of this tantra and its deity-yoga.” Galasek-Hul also argues that Tibetan traditions understood at least some liberation rites as actual lethal rites, rather than solely as allegories for overcoming internal afflictions. [8]

Rwa Lotsawa’s statement that killing samaya-breakers was “a tantric commitment” therefore did not arise in a vacuum. The Vajrabhairava tradition he transmitted contained rituals of killing, and Rwa himself described killing as central to the tantra’s ritual activity.

Galasek-Hul is a scholar and translator of Sanskrit and Classical Tibetan Buddhist literature who has translated Yamāntaka material preserved in the Tibetan Kangyur for 84000. [9]

Who may be “liberated” or tantrically killed?

Tantric literature did not leave the potential targets entirely undefined. Tibetan traditions developed categories known as the “ten fields of liberation,” classifications of beings against whom destructive tantric rites could be justified.

Different versions of the list exist. They include enemies of the Three Jewels, enemies of the spiritual master, enemies of tantric practitioners, people who harm sentient beings, and people who have violated sacred commitments. One scholarly discussion translates one category as a person “who has depraved his pledges.” Another study, discussing Tāranātha’s account, describes the ten fields as categories of people who could be considered proper targets of rites intended to kill for a claimed greater good. [10]

The tradition thus developed a moral taxonomy for determining who could become the object of destructive tantric activity. That should be deeply troubling in any religious system in which a human guru may exercise authority in determining who has broken samaya and thus who can be ritually killed.

A person can first be judged to have violated the sacred relationship. That classification can then place the person within a ritual framework in which wrathful action against them becomes religiously intelligible, even necessary. The potential for abuse is obvious.

The killing language survives into modern Tibetan liturgy

This vocabulary did not disappear with medieval Tibet. A Vajrakīlaya liberation rite by the twentieth-century Nyingma master Khenpo Jigme Phuntsok addresses “enemies and samaya-breakers,” calls upon spiritual powers to judge them, and requests “the most severe punishment” for malevolent foes. [11]

A Vajrakīlaya practice composed by Dudjom Rinpoche similarly invokes victory over “negativity, enemies and samaya-breakers.” Jamyang Khyentse Chökyi Lodrö describes oath-bound Dharma guardians assembled and “eager to act and liberate samaya-breakers, enemies and obstructors.” [12]

Mipham Rinpoche’s ritual poetry can be considerably more graphic. In one invocation, a protector is called the “stealer of the lives of all samaya-breakers.” The text describes piercing their hearts, cutting the main artery of an enemy’s life-force, and offering mountains of flesh, oceans of blood, and banks of bones from samaya-breaking enemies. [13]

It is possible to read such liturgies symbolically like some modern scholars and translators do, but it is not reasonable to pretend that the literal language of killing is absent. Is it willful ignorance on the part of scholars who won’t admit that these practices are real, have been perpetrated against human beings, and continue into the present day? Is it because they have too much invested to look at the language honestly?

The oath-bound protectors

The practitioner is not the only being described as being bound by samaya. Wrathful Dharma protectors are also portrayed as oath-bound. They are ritually commanded to protect the teachings, the lama, and tantric practitioners, and to act against enemies and those who violate samaya.

Within the tantric worldview, these protectors are treated as spiritual beings capable of inflicting pain and harm, rather than merely as psychological symbols. This creates a reciprocal structure of sacred obligation: the disciple is bound to the tantric master and mandala, while protectors are bound to defend that system.

The person identified as a samaya-breaker can then be positioned as the object against whom those protectors act. Phrases such as “liberate samaya-breakers” are not random poetic decorations. They occur within a religious system of vows, offenses, protectors, and ritual consequences.

Early Tibetan samaya material could be extremely explicit about those consequences. One Dunhuang text translated by Dalton warns that if the tantric bond is transgressed, buddhas, bodhisattvas, vajra protectors, gods, humans, siddhas, and yogins will become enraged and draw blood from the offender’s corrupted heart. [14]

This doesn’t sound like peaceful Buddhist language, does it? There are probably many modern practitioners of tantric Buddhism who think that the historical Buddha’s injunctions against harming oneself or others will protect them from tantric retribution. Sadly, this just isn’t so.

It should be emphasized these texts make clear that the tantric vows to “kill” or destroy samaya breakers supercede the moral injunctions against killing found in early Buddhism.

The threat of Vajra Hell is also very real

The consequences attributed to broken samaya extend beyond destructive rituals performed by human practitioners. Traditional Tibetan teachings repeatedly threaten the samaya-breaker with Vajra Hell.

Longchenpa quotes tantric sources warning that someone who disparages the master will experience suffering in this life through sickness, poison, harm from ḍākinīs, and violent forces, followed by death and descent into hell. [15]

Chögyam Trungpa used even starker language when teaching Western students about samaya. He compared it to a highly electrified fence. Attempting to escape it, he said, leads to destruction and Vajra Hell, a condition in which there is “no remedy and no freedom at all.” [16]

A teaching presented as Padmasambhava’s advice to Yeshe Tsogyal warns that breaking the vajra master’s command leads to “Unceasing Vajra Hell” with “no chance for liberation.” [17]

These statements should be placed beside the more inviting descriptions of Vajrayāna empowerment routinely presented to Western students. Whatever one believes about the literal existence of Vajra Hell, the threat itself is part of the tradition.

What happens to the person who is “liberated” (tantrically killed)?

Here is where I disagree with the reassuring explanation sometimes offered for these annihilation rituals. One interpretation I was given by a Tibetan lama many years ago says that an exceptionally accomplished tantric master kills only out of compassion and then transfers the consciousness of the victim to a better rebirth or an enlightened state.

Buddhist sources genuinely employ this logic. Dalton documents traditions in which killing is explained as compassionate liberation. He also describes the Rudra myth, in which Rudra is destroyed, purified, and subsequently reconstituted as a protector. [18]

But that explanation does not account for every text discussed here. The confession translated by Dalton speaks of “annihilating” those who reject or disparage the lama, Three Jewels, and Vajrayāna. Rwa Lotsawa’s biography describes the death of a critic after Rwa identifies him as a samaya-breaker. The ten fields of liberation define classes of people who may become targets of destructive rites.

Modern protector liturgies call for the lives of samaya-breakers to be taken, while traditional samaya teachings threaten violators with Vajra Hell. It therefore distorts the range of evidence to reduce the entire tradition to a benevolent method for giving someone a better rebirth.

My own understanding is also shaped by personal experience. After many years within Tibetan Vajrayāna and extensive involvement in its advanced tantric practices, I do not experience the language of “liberation” in this context as an innocent synonym for compassion. I view the activity surrounding broken samaya, wrathful deities, and spiritual punishment as threatening destruction, not rescue.

That is my testimony and interpretation. Historical scholarship cannot independently prove what happens metaphysically to a person’s consciousness after death, nor can it establish that consciousness can literally be annihilated forever. But it does establish something significant: the tradition contains an extensive ritual vocabulary in which the death of a human adversary can be described as “liberation,” the killing of certain people can be morally justified, failure to kill can appear as a tantric fault, and the person accused of broken samaya can become an object of wrathful activity.

Rwa Lotsawa was not an isolated aberration

The temptation will always be to turn Rwa Lotsawa into an embarrassing exception, but the evidence does not permit that easy solution.

Wenta’s research places Yamāntaka within a much larger history of tantric ritual directed against enemies and used in political or religious conflict. It also shows that violent tantric practices produced controversy within Tibetan Buddhist society and prompted efforts to regulate their use.[19]

Cathy Cantwell and Robert Mayer’s Early Tibetan Documents on Phur pa from Dunhuang demonstrates that violent Vajrakīlaya ritual material existed at an early stage of Tibetan tantra. Their work compares Dunhuang manuscripts with the later received Nyingma tradition and finds significant continuity between them. [20]

Dalton’s study similarly demonstrates that violent themes were deeply involved in Tibet’s assimilation of tantric Buddhism during the period following the Tibetan Empire. His book includes translations of early Dunhuang liberation rites. [21]

David Gray’s research on the Cakrasaṃvara Tantra places another major Highest Yoga Tantra tradition within the antinomian setting of medieval Indian tantra and examines the transgressive practices associated with that textual and ritual world. [22]

Ritual killing therefore occupied a genuine place within tantric literature and religious imagination. Tibetan authors debated its legitimate use, and some celebrated masters were remembered precisely for having exercised such powers. This does not establish how often ritual prescriptions resulted in physical killings. It does establish that the violent material cannot be dismissed as an isolated aberration or a purely modern misreading.

What should students be told before empowerments and other tantric commitments?

This history creates a serious question of informed consent. People receiving Highest Yoga Tantra or Mahāyoga empowerments are entering practices in which samaya is fundamental to the relationship established among disciple, guru, deity, and mandala.

Students may hear that samaya is sacred and that devotion to the guru is essential. They may hear that Vajrayāna is dangerous if practiced incorrectly. But how many are told before empowerment that Tibetan sources threaten samaya-breakers literally with ritual death and Vajra Hell?

How many are shown ritual texts calling upon protectors to take the lives of samaya-breakers? How many are told that the tradition developed categories of people considered legitimate “fields of liberation,” meaning targets of tantric killing?

When I began practicing Tibetan Buddhism, the wrathful protector texts were not allowed to be translated into English. The violent material was kept secret or phrased symbolically.

People cannot meaningfully consent to religious obligations when important dimensions of those obligations are concealed, minimized, or explained only after the commitments have already been undertaken. They may learn what the system says and does about broken commitments only after they are judged to have broken them. By then, it is far too late.

The wrathful material exists within the tradition, has existed for centuries, and concerns the consequences of entering and breaking precisely the commitments created through tantric initiation. Students have a right to know that before they enter the mandala in the first place.

Notes

David B. Gray, The Cakrasaṃvara Tantra: The Discourse of Śrī Heruka: A Study and Annotated Translation (New York: American Institute of Buddhist Studies at Columbia University, 2007); David B. Gray, “The Cakrasamvara Tantra: Its History, Interpretation, and Practice in India and Tibet,” Religion Compass 1, no. 6 (2007): 695–710, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1749-8171.2007.00046.x. Journal record.

Rwa Yeshé Sengé, The All-Pervading Melodious Drumbeat: The Life of Ra Lotsawa, trans. Bryan J. Cuevas (New York: Penguin Classics, 2015), 241–42. Publisher’s page.

Aleksandra Wenta, “Tantric Ritual and Conflict in Tibetan Buddhist Society: The Cult of Yamāntaka,” LEA: Lingue e Letterature d’Oriente e d’Occidente 11 (2022): 333–53, especially 341–43, https://doi.org/10.36253/lea-1824-484x-13637. Open-access article.

Jacob P. Dalton, The Taming of the Demons: Violence and Liberation in Tibetan Buddhism (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2011), 25–26. Publisher’s page.

Dalton, Taming of the Demons, 26–31.

Sam van Schaik, “The Limits of Transgression: The Samaya Vows of Mahāyoga,” in Esoteric Buddhism at Dunhuang: Rites and Teachings for This Life and Beyond, ed. Matthew T. Kapstein and Sam van Schaik (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 61–80. Author-hosted text.

Dalton, Taming of the Demons, 21–31.

Sonam Choden, “Who Deserve to Be ‘Liberated’? The Buddhist Tantric Ideas of the ‘Seven [Kinds of] Transgression/Transgressor’ and ‘Ten Fields of Liberation,’” abstract for the XXth Congress of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, Leipzig University, 2025, in Abstracts, 121–22. Conference abstract volume.

Bruno Galasek-Hul, “Ritual Violence in the Yamāntaka Corpus of the Kangyur,” abstract for the XXth Congress of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, Leipzig University, 2025, in Abstracts, 122–23. Conference abstract volume.

Bruno Galasek-Hul, trans., The Tantra of Black Yamāri, Toh 467, 84000: Translating the Words of the Buddha, 2023. Translation and translator information.

Aleksandra Wenta, “Demons, Wicked Ones and Those Who Violate the Samayas: Dharma Against the Enemy in Tantric Buddhism,” in Dharma and Abhidharma, ed. C. Pieruccini and A. Rigopoulos (Firenze: Firenze University Press, 2022), and Wenta, “Tāranātha on the Emergence of the Tantric Cycle of Vajrabhairava-Yamāntaka: Writing a Tibetan Buddhist Historiography in Seventeenth-Century Tibet,” Revue d’Etudes Tibétaines 56 (2021): 118–65. University repository record; open-access RET article.

Khenpo Jigme Phuntsok, “Purba Gulkhukma Liberation Rite,” trans. Lotsawa House, 2020. English translation.

Dudjom Rinpoche, “The Essential Daily Practice of Vajrakīlaya,” trans. Lotsawa House, and Jamyang Khyentse Chökyi Lodrö, “Shower of Wisdom Blessings,” trans. Lotsawa House. Dudjom Rinpoche translation; Jamyang Khyentse Chökyi Lodrö translation.

Mipham Rinpoche, “Söllo Chenmo: The Great Invocation of Gesar,” trans. Lotsawa House. English translation.

Jacob P. Dalton, “How Dhāraṇīs WERE Proto-Tantric: Liturgies, Ritual Manuals, and the Origins of the Tantras,” in Dhāraṇī and Pratibhāna: Memory and Eloquence of the Bodhisattvas, ed. Claudio Cicuzza (Vienna: Arbeitskreis für Tibetische und Buddhistische Studien Universität Wien, 2022), 307–35. Open-access chapter.

Longchen Rabjam, “The Ocean of Siddhis,” trans. Adam Pearcey, Lotsawa House, 2018. English translation.

Chögyam Trungpa, “The Crazy-Wisdom Holder and the Student,” in The Lion’s Roar: An Introduction to Tantra, ed. Judith L. Lief (Boston: Shambhala, 1992), 151–56. Digital text.

Padmasambhava, Dakini Teachings: Padmasambhava’s Oral Instructions to Lady Tsogyal, trans. Erik Pema Kunsang (Boudhanath: Rangjung Yeshe Publications, 1989), section on samaya and guru yoga. Publisher’s page.

Dalton, Taming of the Demons, 3–20, 31–50.

Wenta, “Tantric Ritual and Conflict,” 333–53.

Cathy Cantwell and Robert Mayer, Early Tibetan Documents on Phur pa from Dunhuang (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2008). Publisher-hosted text.

Dalton, Taming of the Demons, especially 51–103.

Tibetan Tantra: A Snake in a Bamboo Tube

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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)

The Illusion of Consent

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Kurukullā, the red goddess of magnetizing, depicted in a traditional Tibetan thangka style, embodying the tantric power to attract and bind.

Western seekers approaching Tibetan Buddhism are usually drawn to its most humane face. Chenrezig practice promises the cultivation of boundless compassion through visualizing Avalokiteśvara and reciting his mantra Om Mani Peme Hung. Tonglen “taking and sending” practice trains the mind to breathe in the suffering of others and breathe out relief. These sincere aspirations are the public face of Tibetan Buddhism. Yet this religion also preserves a hidden curriculum. Alongside compassionate practices sit the four activities that structure tantric ritual: pacifying, enriching, magnetizing, and subjugating. This fuller picture is rarely presented to beginners, and yet it has consequences for any claim to informed consent.[1]

The four activities: not just compassion

The four activities, known in Sanskrit as caturkarman, classify tantric rites by their intended effect:

  • Pacifying (śāntika) calms illness and obstacles.
  • Enriching (puṣṭika) augments longevity, merit, charisma, retinues, and wealth.
  • Magnetizing (vaśīkaraṇa) draws people and circumstances into a chosen orbit.
  • Subjugating (abhicāra) compells or destroys enemies.

These four are standard categories across tantric manuals and commentaries.[2]

While Western students are typically introduced to the activities of pacifying and enriching, the other two, magnetizing and subjugating, remain obscure, despite being prominent in tantric ritual literature. Historian Jacob Dalton has shown that violent tantric rites were not marginal but integral, even harnessed by Tibetan states to consolidate power in the medieval period.[3]

Kurukullā: the red goddess of attraction

Kurukullā, a red goddess associated with Amitābha and Tara, epitomizes magnetizing. In traditional texts she is praised as the deity of attraction, and in Tibetan sources she is sometimes known as the “Magnetizing Tara.” She is depicted holding a arrow, bow, flower and hook, all instruments of enchantment. [4]

Contemporary dharma centers sometimes describe her as a deity of love and influence, a kind of esoteric Cupid. But Tibetan ritual manuals, as catalogued by Stephan Beyer and translated in part by modern scholars, show that Kurukullā rites include binding the loyalty or desire of others.[5]

The omission of this material in introductory teachings is significant. Students often hear of compassion, not of enchantment and coercion.

Subjugation and tantric violence

Subjugating rituals, by contrast, can be overtly violent. Dunhuang manuscripts detail effigy rites and “liberation” practices, in which enemies are ritually slain to protect practitioners and their patrons. Dalton notes that these methods scaled from local shamanic forms into state-sanctioned tantric technologies by the 13th century.[6]

Even today, wrathful practices remain part of Tibetan public culture. Cham dances of Mahākāla, staged annually in monasteries, dramatically enact the destruction of obstacles. While these are often seen as symbolic, their presence keeps alive a framework where wrathful force is ritually mobilized against perceived threats.[7]

Samaya: the binding vow

In Highest Yoga Tantra empowerments, disciples take vows of refuge, bodhisattva vows, and tantric samaya commitments. Samaya is described as a “sacred bond” with the guru and the deity. Root downfalls include disrespecting the master or revealing tantric secrets. Breach is said to bring spiritual ruin.[8]

This means that students who take empowerments without understanding the full scope of tantric practices, including magnetizing, subjugating, and punishment rites, are effectively giving consent under partial information. Despite not understanding fully what they are entering into, the bond of samaya can become a blanket mechanism of control.

As the 17th Karmapa indicated in teachings earlier this year, samaya breakers are spoken of in language that implies wrathful retribution, both spiritual and physical. The retribution he described is not symbolic but actual. See my essay, “Read Between the Lines,” for more on this.[9]

Survivors’ voices

Accounts from survivors and critical practitioners suggest that magnetizing and wrathful practices are not just metaphors. Women have described experiences of sexual energy being manipulated at a distance, sometimes calling it a form of “astral rape.” Whether one interprets this as energetic manipulation or psychological intrusion, the perception of violation is real.

Lion’s Roar published testimonies arguing that samaya has been used as a principal mechanism of coercion in abuse cases. Independent investigations of groups like Shambhala document patterns where devotion and secrecy prevented victims from speaking out.[10]

Buddhist communities are now grappling with these realities. Some organizations are introducing explicit consent policies, recognizing that the charisma of a guru, altered states of consciousness induced during a ritual, and the binding reality of vows can impair a student’s capacity to freely choose.[11]

Historical context does not erase ethical duty

Scholars such as Ronald Davidson have contextualized tantric violence as a product of medieval frontier politics and kingship.[12] This explains how such rites developed. But historical context does not remove the ethical obligation to disclose them to modern students.

Without disclosure, the vows taken in empowerments are not truly informed. The student consents to Buddhist compassion, but is bound to a system that also contains sexual enchantment, psychological manipulation, and deadly punishments.

Conclusion

The compassionate practices of Chenrezig and Tonglen have a genuine power to transform, yet Tibetan Buddhism’s esoteric side contains hidden technologies that are not peaceful but harmful: the rites of magnetizing, subjugation, and punishment. These are attested in texts, preserved in ritual, and acknowledged by scholars and survivors alike. Until these dimensions are more fully disclosed, the vows taken in tantric empowerments remain shadowy. Consent given without knowledge of the whole spectrum of practice is not true consent. It is, as this essay argues, an illusion.

Source Notes

1. Rigpa Wiki, “Four activities,” accessed 2025.
Rigpa Wiki is a practitioner-maintained encyclopedia that summarizes key Vajrayana concepts. Its entry on the “four activities” clearly lays out pacifying, enriching, magnetizing, and subjugating as the classical categories of tantric ritual. It is not a critical academic source, but it reflects how contemporary Tibetan Buddhist institutions themselves present the material.

2. Study Buddhism, “What is Samaya?” and “Empowerment.”
Study Buddhism is a project led by Alexander Berzin and colleagues, offering accessible introductions to Buddhist theory and practice. These entries explain samaya as a binding relationship with a guru and empowerment as the ritual granting of authority to practice tantra. They are useful for showing how Tibetan teachers explain vows and empowerments to Western audiences.

3. Jacob P. Dalton, The Taming of the Demons: Violence and Liberation in Tibetan Buddhism (Yale University Press, 2011).
Dalton’s book is a landmark study of ritual violence in Tibetan Buddhism. Drawing on Dunhuang manuscripts, he shows that wrathful rites, including violent subjugation and “liberation” rituals, were integral to tantric practice. Dalton’s work challenges romantic views of Buddhism as purely peaceful.

4. Wikipedia, “Kurukullā”
The Wikipedia entry gives a concise overview of Kurukullā as a magnetizing deity across Buddhist cultures.

Tomlin, Adele. “MAGNETISING RED QUEEN, KURUKULLĀ: ‘Outshining the perceptions of others and bringing afflictive emotions under control’ teaching of 8th Garchen Rinpoche,” Dakini Translations, 8 June 2021. Available at: https://dakinitranslations.com/2021/06/08/magnetising-dancing-queen-kurukulla-outshining-the-perceptions-of-others-and-bringing-afflictive-emotions-under-control-teaching-of-8th-garchen-rinpoche/

5. Stephan Beyer, The Cult of Tārā: Magic and Ritual in Tibet (University of California Press, 1973).
Beyer’s study remains a foundational ethnography of tantric ritual in Tibet. His translations of ritual manuals include examples of both compassionate and wrathful practices, including rites of attraction and subjugation. It is particularly valuable for showing how deity practices were embedded in everyday Tibetan religious life.

6. Dalton, Taming of the Demons; see also Jacob P. Dalton, “A Crisis of Doxography,” in Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 28, no. 1 (2005).
In addition to his book, Dalton’s article “A Crisis of Doxography” analyzes how violent rites were classified in Tibetan scholastic traditions. He shows that even systematizing scholars struggled to reconcile wrathful tantric methods with Buddhist ideals, which underscores their presence and their tension.

7. Associated Press, “Wrathful deities in Tibetan Cham dance,” 2024.
This news report covers annual cham dances in Tibet and in exile communities, where wrathful deities like Mahākāla are invoked to repel obstacles. It illustrates that wrathful practices are still a living part of Tibetan Buddhist culture, even if framed from the public as symbolic or theatrical.

8. Study Buddhism, “Samaya”; Rigpa Wiki, “Empowerment.”
Both entries describe the vows and commitments made during empowerment rituals. They confirm that samaya includes strict obligations to the guru and to secrecy. Their language highlights how the bonding process is explained to new students, and how much is left unspoken.

9 “Read Between the Lines: A Glimpse Into the Dark Heart of Guru Devotion,” Tantric Deception, April 4, 2025.
This essay analyzes a teaching by the 17th Karmapa, where he discussed samaya and hinted at punitive consequences for breaking devotion. It shows how even contemporary high lamas continue to invoke the discourse of samaya enforcement, reinforcing the concerns about consent.

10. Lion’s Roar, “When Samaya is Used as a Weapon,” 2018; Buddhist Project Sunshine Reports, 2018–2019.
Lion’s Roar published reflections by teachers and survivors on how samaya language has been used to silence or coerce students in abuse cases. Buddhist Project Sunshine was a grassroots effort to document sexual misconduct in Shambhala and other Tibetan Buddhist organizations. These sources provide survivor-centered evidence of how samaya functions in practice.

11. Buddhist Ethics Working Group, “Consent in Vajrayana,” 2021.
This collective statement from Buddhist practitioners and ethicists proposes new standards for sexual and spiritual consent in Vajrayana contexts. It emphasizes enthusiastic, ongoing consent and rejects the misuse of tantric language to excuse coercion. It is an attempt at reform efforts from within the tradition.

12. Ronald M. Davidson, Indian Esoteric Buddhism: A Social History of the Tantric Movement (Columbia University Press, 2002).
Davidson’s historical study situates tantric Buddhism in the political and social context of medieval India. He shows how esoteric practices were bound up with kingship, warfare, and elite patronage. His work helps explain how violent and manipulative rites could become integral to the tradition, even if they clash with Buddhist ethics.

When Spirits Enter: Comparing Vajrayana Empowerment with Western Occult Initiation

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Both Vajrayana and Luciferian rites use geometric portals to invoke spiritual forces and what comes through may not leave easily.

Follow-up to: “The ‘Hidden’ Truth of Vajrayana Empowerment: Does the Lama Implant a Deity into the Disciple’s Mind?”

Following the previous article “The ‘Hidden’ Truth of Vajrayana Empowerment,” which exposed how Tibetan tantric initiation involves the lama implanting a deity into the disciple’s mind-stream, this follow-up explores how that same core process, spiritual implantation, appears in Western occult and Satanic initiation rites. Though culturally and theologically distinct, both systems describe a mystical transformation in which the aspirant is indwelt, overshadowed, or spiritually fused with a nonhuman being. The parallels are striking, and the implications for unsuspecting spiritual seekers are sobering.

Union Through Inhabitation

In Vajrayana Buddhism, the empowerment ritual is designed to activate the disciple’s Buddha-nature by personifying it as a specific deity. This process is not symbolic; it requires the intervention of the guru, who performs a series of initiations (vase, secret, wisdom, and word) that culminate in the wisdom deity entering the disciple’s visualized form. Sam van Schaik and other scholars describe this as a fusion of two minds: the practitioner becomes “in union” with the deity.¹ Light or energy entering the heart symbolizes this transmission, and classical sources like Vilāsavajra² and Jamgön Kongtrul³ confirm that the deity’s presence is meant to take root within the initiate.

This process mirrors what takes place in various forms of Western occult initiation. Whether in ceremonial magic, Luciferian practice, or Thelemic rites, the aspirant invites a spiritual entity, sometimes framed as a “higher self” and other times as a demon or god-form, to inhabit or fuse with their consciousness.⁴ In certain traditions, this is done under the guise of awakening one’s divine essence or ascending the Tree of Life, but the mechanics remain: the person is inviting another spiritual will to merge with their own.

The Role of the Officiant

In Vajrayana, only a qualified guru can perform the empowerment. The lama must have realization of the deity in order to transmit it, effectively serving as a channel through which the deity is implanted into the disciple. The disciple cannot access the highest yoga tantra deity alone; it must come through the guru.⁵

In Western occultism, the structure is more flexible. In ceremonial lodges like the Golden Dawn, initiation is conferred by a hierarchy of initiates. In solitary or Luciferian paths, the practitioner may self-initiate, performing a ritual to invoke and receive a spiritual entity directly.⁶ This difference, hierarchical transmission versus self-directed invocation, changes the form but not the essence of what is happening: a spiritual being is invited in.

Seed and Possession

Both traditions speak of what can be described as a spiritual seed taking root in the initiate. In Vajrayana Buddhism this is the seed of the deity that is implanted through ritual and nurtured by mantra and visualization, growing into full enlightenment.⁷ In occult traditions, similar metaphors abound: the Black Flame (Luciferianism), divine spark (Gnosticism), or magical current (Thelema) all describe a presence awakened or implanted within the practitioner.⁸

Possession or identity fusion is not merely metaphorical in either tradition. In Vajrayana, the practitioner becomes the deity in practice and visualization. In Western occultism, invocation or evocation may result in the spirit speaking through the practitioner, taking partial or full control.⁹ The aspirant may not merely visualize the entity; they may be inhabited by it.

Theological Framing

Here is where the surface similarities give way to deeper concerns. Vajrayana presents this union as sacred and salvific. The deities are said to be manifestations of enlightened mind, and the process is aimed at liberation from suffering.

In contrast, many Western occult traditions embrace the transgressive nature of the ritual. In Luciferian and Satanic paths, the union with a spiritual being is framed as an act of rebellion, empowerment, or divinization.¹⁰ Even in systems that use angelic or archetypal language, the goal is often gnosis independent of God, power over nature, or rejection of traditional morality.

From a Christian theological perspective, both processes, however cloaked in cultural or religious language, involve the opening of the soul to spiritual beings not of God.¹¹ Whether the entity is labeled as a deity, guardian angel, or inner Buddha, the core act is the same: inviting possession or fusion with a nonhuman intelligence. Exorcists describe demons as “persons without bodies.”

Deliberate Secrecy vs. Ritual Transparency

Another key difference lies in disclosure. Vajrayana does not typically explain to new initiates that the lama will implant the deity into their mindstream. This is concealed under layers of euphemisms, talk of “blessings,” “inspiration,” or “awakening Buddha-nature”.¹² Western occultism, by contrast, often acknowledges its aims more directly. A Luciferian magician knows they are invoking Lucifer. A Thelemite understands the goal is Knowledge and Conversation with a higher being.¹³

But the result is no less dangerous. Both systems involve entering into a spiritual relationship that can dominate or override the practitioner’s will. From a Christian point of view, these are not symbolic practices but acts of spiritual surrender and potentially, spiritual bondage.

Conclusion: Two Paths, One Mechanism

While Vajrayana tantra and Western occultism differ in terminology, mythos, and cultural packaging, they share a core mechanism: a ritual invitation for a spiritual being to enter the initiate’s consciousness. Whether masked as deity yoga or celebrated as demonic possession, the outcome is the same: identity fusion with a nonhuman spirit.

The true danger lies not only in the act itself but in the lack of informed consent. Many Vajrayana practitioners never fully understand what they’ve opened themselves to until it’s too late. And many occultists, lured by the promise of empowerment, mistake possession for enlightenment.

As explored on this blog, the deeper deception is the true nature of “possession” rituals versus how they are presented. Spiritual seekers deserve the truth: that these practices, whether called empowerment or initiation, are not harmless techniques for personal growth and transcendence. They are open doors: both Vajrayana and Luciferian rites use geometric portals to invoke spiritual forces and what walks through may not be your friend or leave easily.

Sources

  1. Sam van Schaik, “The Limits of Transgression: The Samaya Vows of Mahāyoga” (2010).
  2. Vilāsavajra, Hevajra Tantra Commentary, excerpts found in Mahāyoga textual studies.
  3. Jamgön Kongtrul, The Treasury of Knowledge, Book Eight, Part Three.
  4. Aleister Crowley, Magick in Theory and Practice; Michael Ford, Luciferian Witchcraft.
  5. Ngawang Phuntsok, On Receiving Wang (Empowerment).
  6. Israel Regardie, The Golden Dawn: A Complete System of Magic.
  7. Dalai Lama, Kalachakra Initiation Teachings; traditional commentaries on empowerment.
  8. Michael W. Ford, Apotheosis: The Ultimate Beginner’s Guide to Luciferianism.
  9. Kenneth Grant, The Magical Revival; practices in chaos and ceremonial magic.
  10. Anton LaVey, The Satanic Bible; Ford, Dragon of the Two Flames.
  11. Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraphs 2116–2117.
  12. Scott Globus, “Empowerments: Awakening the Buddha Within,” Rubin Museum, 2021.
  13. Aleister Crowley, The Vision and the Voice; Liber Samekh.

The “Hidden” Truth of Vajrayana Empowerment: Does the Lama Implant a Deity into the Disciple’s Mind?

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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:

  1. Traditional Vajrayana saying; cited in various commentarial teachings on abhisheka.
  2. Rigpa Wiki, “Empowerment,” www.rigpawiki.org.
  3. His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, Kalachakra Initiation Teachings.
  4. Sam van Schaik, “The Limits of Transgression: The Samaya Vows of Mahāyoga” (2010).
  5. Ngawang Phuntsok, On Receiving Wang (Empowerment).
  6. Vilāsavajra, commentary on tantric vows; source referenced in academic discussion on Mahāyoga.
  7. Jamgön Kongtrul, The Treasury of Knowledge, Book Eight, Part Three: The Elements of Tantric Practice.
  8. Scott Globus, “Empowerments: Awakening the Buddha Within,” Rubin Museum, 2021.
  9. 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.