Tag: Occultism

“Books of Spells” in Tibetan Buddhism: Magnetizing and Subjugation Rites, and the Problem of Sexual and Spiritual Abuse

mim

To view Tibetan Buddhism as purely meditative and philosophical is to miss a large and still under-mapped terrain of ritual manuals and spell collections. A 9th to 10th-century Tibetan “book of spells” from the Dunhuang cave library (British Library IOL Tib J 401) shows that Tibetan monks compiled practical ritual instructions covering healing, protection, exorcism, and subjugation. It is the earliest surviving compendium of Tibetan Buddhist magical ritual and looks exactly like what we’d call a grimoire: a working handbook of spellcraft.¹

Moving forward in time, the 18th-century polymath Slelung Zhadepa Dorje (Sle lung Bzhad pa’i rdo rje) assembled a large tantric cycle centered on the Jñānaḍākinī. Within that cycle, scholars have identified several distinct grimoires of spells that are, again, practical instruction sets embedded in a broader tantric collection. As one study notes: “This paper seeks to examine such techniques in several grimoires of spells found in the tantric cycle of Gsang ba ye shes mkha’ ’gro… compiled and edited… by Sle lung Bzhad pa’i rdo rje (1697–1740) in the 1730s.”²

“Magical practices in Buddhism are still one of the least studied aspects of the religion.”³

Despite strong indications that there are many such grimoires, from Dunhuang through later ritual cycles, there is no comprehensive catalog. Scholars themselves admit the field’s patchy mapping. Sam van Schaik emphasizes the neglect, and others underline that studies too often treat magic as a literary trope rather than as practical ritual.³ ⁴

Personal experience

I do not come to this subject as a detached scholar. I was targeted by two different lamas at different times, one of whom used coercion to draw me into a sexual relationship and then employed what I can only describe as black magic when I resisted, questioned, and tried to break free. Living through those experiences is what drove me to investigate Tibetan spell craft.

“From the inside, the grimoires of Tibetan Buddhism do not feel very different from the grimoires of Western occultism.”

Although I practiced intensely for years in long retreats, I was never taught these darker rituals, yet I witnessed unsettling rites performed by my lamas. After rebuffing the advances of the first guru, I experienced what felt like severe magical attacks that reverberated for years. The cognitive dissonance was crushing: I believed these teachers were fully enlightened buddhas, yet I suffered severe trauma and PTSD.

“Fear of vajra hell kept me clinging to the practices, even as abuse intensified.”

My second guru was later exposed publicly for sexual and psychological abuse. Being caught in his orbit, I became the target of annihilation rituals. Surviving and recovering has been extraordinarily difficult. I now see that while some teachers avoid such practices, others weaponize spells of magnetism and subjugation to manipulate students, especially women, for sex and energetic vampirization. This gray area of practical magic within Tibetan Buddhism is vast and dangerous.

What the rites actually claim to do: magnetizing and subjugation

Classical Vajrayāna sorts ritual aims into four “activities”: pacifying, enriching, magnetizing, and subjugating. These are not marginal ideas; they are a standard frame for tantric ritual. Magnetizing (Tib. dbang du sdud pa) is explicitly defined as bringing others “under one’s control,” while subjugation names violent rites directed at overcoming obstacles and destroying opponents.⁵ ⁶

Texts and prayers for magnetizing circulate broadly, for instance, the “Wang Dü” prayer attributed to Mipham, described as “magnetizing or bringing under one’s control.” None of this is esoteric in the sense of being unknown; it is central to tantric categories and practice rhetoric.⁶ ⁷

From ritual claims to real-world power: how coercion maps onto communities and individuals

A ritual manual promising to attract, influence, or subdue doesn’t automatically produce abuse. Still, the rhetoric of magnetizing and subjugation sits within a social system that grants absolute authority to gurus and expects strong devotion from students. When high-status teachers have access to rites whose very names project attraction and control, the risk of translating ritual language into interpersonal domination is real.

Recent history demonstrates the danger. In 2018 Rigpa, the international organization founded by Sogyal Rinpoche, published the results of an independent investigation by the law firm Lewis Silkin that validated numerous allegations of physical and sexual abuse and identified serious safeguarding failures.⁸

The published report recounts patterns of violence and coercion including “slapping,” “punching,” “hitting with a backscratcher, phones, cups and hangers,” and documents testimonies of sexual abuse, concluding that the community had failed to protect students.⁹

This is not to claim that tantric ritual texts instruct teachers to abuse students. It is to note a combustible mix: magical mechanisms of control, asymmetries of authority, sacralized obedience, and the frequent absence of external accountability.

Bringing the strands together

  • Books of spells are the norm: Tibetan Buddhist literature contains actual “books of spells” and multiple grimoires embedded in tantric cycles. These are not aberrations but part of the tradition.¹ ²
  • An under-researched domain: Leading scholars explicitly acknowledge that this area of Buddhist practice is still understudied.³ ⁴
  • Control as a ritual aim: The four tantric activities include “magnetizing” and “subjugating,” both routinely glossed as bringing beings or circumstances under one’s control.⁵ ⁶
  • Abuse linked to ritual rhetoric: Documented cases in Tibetan Buddhist communities show how claims to ritual power combined with intense guru-devotion can provide cover for coercion and severe abuse.⁸ ⁹

Where the research gap still matters

A fuller picture of “how many” grimoires are in Tibetan tantric collections requires systematic cataloging across canons and private libraries. Right now we have case studies and local inventories rather than a master list. These texts need to be thoroughly studied in their historical and contemporary contexts and exposed to the world for what they really are–recipes for white and black magic–not sugarcoated as quaint and innocuous artifacts.³ ⁴

Without naming and analyzing how these are taught and performed, it is hard for communities and individuals to protect themselves from magical attacks.

What better safeguards look like

  • Name the risk: community materials should explain what “magnetizing” and “subjugation” denote in practice and how these can and will be used against students at the guru’s discretion.
  • Independent oversight: adopt and publish external safeguarding standards and reporting channels. The Rigpa case shows why self-policing fails.⁸
  • Informed consent and boundaries: spell out that teacher/student sex, even where allowed by law, requires adult consent free of spiritual pressure, and that the bar for “free of pressure” is very high in asymmetric relationships.
  • Don’t assume that all Tibetan Buddhist lamas have pure intention and integrity.

“The safest course is to avoid Tibetan Buddhism altogether, since in practice the guru’s needs and moods often override the Buddha’s teaching of non-harm.“

A closing note on method

This article is a call for transparency and insistence on precision. Tibetan Buddhist archives contain grimoires. The tradition attracts students to its supposedly compassionate practices while concealing that darker “magnetizing” and “subjugation” practices are core ritual elements. Scholars say this area is understudied. And history shows that these techniques of control, in the hands of unaccountable authorities, can easily become abusive, even deadly.

Footnotes

  1. Sam van Schaik, “The Early Tibetan Book of Spells.” Analysis of British Library manuscript IOL Tib J 401 from Dunhuang (9th–10th century). This manuscript is recognized as the earliest surviving Tibetan compendium of spells and rituals, containing instructions for healing, protection, and exorcism. See: Sam van Schaik, Early Tibet blog (2008), and also referenced in his book Tibetan Zen: Discovering a Lost Tradition (Snow Lion, 2015).
  2. Sle lung Bzhad pa’i rdo rje’s Jñānaḍākinī cycle study (Academia.edu). Scholarly paper examining several grimoires embedded in the tantric cycle of Gsang ba ye shes mkha’ ’gro, compiled and edited in the 1730s by Sle lung Bzhad pa’i rdo rje (1697–1740). The paper highlights ritual techniques, their organization, and their status as practical spell collections within a broader cycle. Available on Academia.edu.
  3. Sam van Schaik on magical practices in Buddhism. Statement that “magical practices in Buddhism are still one of the least studied aspects of the religion.” Quoted in his writings on Buddhist magic, including his blog Early Tibet and in Tibetan Zen (Snow Lion, 2015).
  4. Cameron Bailey, “The Magic of Secret Gnosis: A Theoretical Analysis of a Tibetan Buddhist ‘Grimoire’.” Journal of the Korean Association of Buddhist Studies 84 (2020): 145–176. Available via Academia.edu. Bailey notes that “magic power in Buddhism has been studied more from the perspective of a literary trope than as practical and exactingly specific ritual techniques,” and examines grimoires embedded within the Gsang ba ye shes mkha’ ’gro (Secret Gnosis Dakini) cycle compiled by Sle lung Bzhad pa’i rdo rje in the 1730s.
  5. Vajrayāna framework of four activities. Standard tantric taxonomy of ritual aims: pacifying (zhi ba), enriching (rgyas pa), magnetizing (dbang sdud), and subjugating (dbang ’joms). Discussed in multiple Vajrayāna handbooks and summaries, including descriptions in online resources such as Rigpa Wiki and introductory texts on Vajrayāna Buddhism.
  6. Definitions of magnetizing. Magnetizing (dbang du sdud pa) is routinely glossed as “bringing others under one’s control.” See standard glosses in Vajrayāna dictionaries, sadhana commentaries, and contemporary teaching materials (e.g. Rigpa Wiki, “Four activities”).
  7. “Wang Dü” prayer attributed to Mipham. A widely recited prayer describing magnetizing activities, attributed to the 19th-century scholar Mipham Rinpoche (1846–1912). Circulates in Tibetan and English translation as a practice of magnetizing or bringing beings under one’s control.
  8. Rigpa Independent Investigation, Lewis Silkin LLP (2018). Commissioned by Rigpa International following widespread allegations against founder Sogyal Lakar (Sogyal Rinpoche). The final report documented physical assaults, psychological abuse, and sexual exploitation, and called out systemic safeguarding failures. Full report available through Rigpa’s website and media coverage (2018).
  9. Findings on abuse in Rigpa/Sogyal Rinpoche’s communities. The Lewis Silkin report and subsequent coverage summarized multiple testimonies: repeated slapping, punching, use of objects to hit students, as well as sexual coercion and exploitation of women. Findings were corroborated by survivor accounts and reinforced calls for reform in Tibetan Buddhist organizations.

America’s Freemasonic Roots and the Hidden Rise of Tantra

mim

The United States was founded as a nation with Christian underpinnings. Though explicitly rejecting a state church, the culture, law, and moral sensibilities of the early colonies were undeniably rooted in European Christianity. The Puritans brought Calvinism to New England, Anglicans established themselves in the South, and Catholic missions flourished in Spanish-controlled territories such as California and the Southwest. Later waves of immigration brought Lutherans, Methodists, Presbyterians, and Baptists who carved out religious strongholds across the Midwest and South.

By the 19th century, the so-called “Bible Belt” had emerged in the South, Methodism had spread explosively through revivalism, and Catholicism had grown with Irish and Italian immigration. By the mid-20th century, America was demographically and culturally a Christian nation. According to Gallup polls from the late 1950s and early 1960s, more than 90% of Americans identified as Christian, with the largest groups being Protestants (roughly 70%) and Catholics (about 25%).

The Cultural Explosion of the 1960s

Then came the 1960s, a decade that tore through old structures. The Vietnam War, the civil rights struggle, the sexual revolution, psychedelic experimentation, and anti-establishment sentiment all converged. The cultural consensus rooted in old forms of Christianity began to fracture. Simultaneously, the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) radically reformed Catholicism, introducing liturgical changes, opening the Church to interreligious dialogue, and softening the rigid boundaries between Catholic identity and “the other.” For the first time in history, the Catholic Church officially entertained the possibility that truth could exist outside its walls. This, in turn, prepared the ground for interfaith openness and even syncretism.

At the same time, young Americans disillusioned by the war machine were searching for new sources of peace and meaning. Buddhism, with its emphasis on compassion, nonviolence, and meditation, arrived at exactly the right moment. For the counterculture, it offered a path to peace and love in stark contrast to the devastation of the Vietnam War.

Gurus, Lamas, and the Tibetan Diaspora

The timing was uncanny. In 1959, Tibet fell to the Chinese Communist takeover, and a vast exodus of Tibetans fled into India and Nepal. Among the refugees were lamas who carried tantric teachings preserved for centuries in their monasteries. In the late 1960s and 1970s, the first wave of Western seekers, hippies from the US and Europe, traveled to India and Nepal, encountering these masters in exile. For the Tibetans, these were years of profound trauma, dislocation, and cultural upheaval. For the Westerners, it was a spiritual gold rush.

Out of this strange meeting of East and West emerged the first Tibetan Buddhist centers in America. By the mid-1970s, figures such as Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche and the 16th Karmapa had established institutions across the country, often structured exactly like churches: religious nonprofits with tax-exempt status, complete with community rituals, hierarchies, and devotional practices. The Dalai Lama’s influence would come slightly later, after his first U.S. visit in 1979. Scores of young Americans, many from Christian families, converted to Tibetan Buddhism, convinced they had found something far superior to the “hollow faith” of their parents.

The Hidden Face of Tantra

Buddhism, in its ethical and philosophical dimensions, does indeed share much with Christianity such as compassion, ethical restraint, and renunciation of greed and hatred. But hidden within the Tibetan stream lies tantra, a system of occult practices and magical invocations that have no basis in the teachings of the historical Buddha. Instead, they represent a grafting of Indian tantric traditions onto Buddhism. Tibetan shamanic practices were also woven into the mix—rituals of spirit invocation and magical rites—which only reinforced the occult dimension and pushed the system even further from the teachings of the historical Buddha.

Some early Tibetan teachers in the West even made cryptic statements hinting at the true nature of their teachings. One unsettling quote, difficult to substantiate, yet chilling in its cynicism, was attributed to a Tibetan Vajrayana Buddhist master: “Satan is Vajra Jesus.” Indeed, after decades of immersion, it became clear to me that “Vajra” is not merely a symbol of indestructibility as is taught, but a coded reference to occult power, Satanic at its core. The genius of the system lies in its camouflage: cloaked in the ethics of Buddhism, the darker currents of tantra flow undetected.

Tibetan Buddhism and Freemasonry: A Parallel

The comparison with Freemasonry is instructive. Many of America’s Founding Fathers were Freemasons, and while the fraternity appeared on the surface to be a benevolent society, its higher degrees revealed allegiance to Lucifer.* At the lower levels, members encountered moral lessons and fraternity; only later, through oaths and initiations, was the deeper reality disclosed.**

Tibetan Buddhism operates in a strikingly similar way. Entry-level students learn meditation, ethics, and compassion. Only after deeper commitment, vows, and initiations are they gradually exposed to tantric practices: rituals involving wrathful deities, consorts, and occult visualizations. By then, they are bound by vows and loyalty to their teachers.

Full Circle: From Freemason Roots to Tantric Fruits

In this light, the embrace of Tibetan Buddhism in America seems less like an alien import and more like a continuation of an esoteric undercurrent already present in the nation’s DNA. The United States, born with strong Christian roots but also intertwined with Freemasonic structures, has become fertile ground for tantric infiltration. Just as Freemasonry concealed its Luciferian essence under a philanthropic veneer, Tibetan Buddhism cloaks its demonic core under Buddhist compassion.

The cultural revolution of the 1960s cracked open the shell of Christianity in America. Into that breach poured the lamas and their tantric systems. What appeared to be a message of peace and healing, at precisely the moment of American disillusionment, carried with it an occult agenda. In that sense, the story of tantra in America is not just about East meeting West, but about a deeper pattern repeating itself: a hidden, Luciferian tradition resurfacing under new guises.

*Not every Freemason engages in satanic practices, or even knows about that aspect of it. It is only at the 33rd degree and beyond that initiates are allegedly confronted with a Luciferian element. This is somewhat like the staged vows and initiations of Tibetan Buddhism that lead beyond basic Buddhism into communion with a pantheon of tantric gods that are not merely symbols or archetypes. Each level of Freemasonry opens the way to higher oaths and allegiances, ultimately directed toward Lucifer and other demons.

**While many of the Founding Fathers were Freemasons, probably some of them really did have noble intentions and wanted to make Washington, D.C. a kind of beacon of light. But there were very deep, dark, hidden forces that lurked within Freemasonry.

Occult Parallels Between Freemasonry and Tibetan Tantric Buddhism

mim

When most people hear the term Freemasonry, they think of an old-world fraternity, moral instruction through symbolism, and discreet handshakes. When they hear Tibetan tantric Buddhism, they imagine serene monks, compassion, and meditation. The public image of both is carefully cultivated, and in both cases, that image obscures a deeper, more esoteric reality.

Layers of Secrecy

Freemasonry is famously structured in degrees. Early initiates learn benign moral allegories; the deeper teachings are said to be revealed only at the highest levels, with rumors persisting about a Luciferian current unveiled around the 33rd degree. Likewise, Tibetan tantric Buddhism presents an accessible outer face, with philosophical teachings and an emphasis on compassionate practices, while reserving its most potent techniques for advanced initiates. These require formal empowerment ceremonies (wangkur) and vows (samaya) that bind the disciple not only to the guru but also to the unseen entities invoked in the practice.

Initiations and Oaths

In both systems, entry into the deeper mysteries requires swearing oaths. In Masonry, the vows historically invoked dire consequences for betrayal, couched in symbolic language. In tantric Buddhism, the initiatory vows carry the threat of karmic ruin, disease, or worse for breaking them. From a critical perspective, these oaths are more than quaint tradition. They function as binding contracts with what practitioners believe are spiritual forces. Those who view the occult with suspicion might identify these forces not as enlightened beings or symbols, but as demonic entities.

Hidden Entities and Magical Practice

Strip away the Buddhist philosophical overlay and Tibetan tantra reveals a highly ritualized form of magic. Complex visualizations, mantras, and mudras serve not merely as meditation aids, but as precise methods of summoning and merging with non-human intelligences. This is not unlike the ceremonial magic that underpins parts of Masonic symbolism, particularly in its higher degrees, where the initiate engages with archetypes, symbols, and names drawn from older mystery traditions. Both traditions cloak these operations in the language of self-improvement and enlightenment, but the mechanics of calling upon unseen forces, entering altered states, and channeling power remain strikingly similar to ancient magical rites.

Shared Roots in Ancient Occultism

Freemasonry draws openly from the Hermetic and Kabbalistic streams of Western esotericism, both of which trace their roots back to the mystery schools of the ancient world. Tibetan tantric Buddhism, though filtered through the Buddhist canon, absorbed elements from pre-Buddhist Bön shamanism, Indian Tantra, and Himalayan spirit-worship. From this angle, both may be considered descendants of the same primordial magical worldview: that reality can be manipulated through ritual, symbol, and alliance with non-physical beings.

The Public Face vs. the Hidden Core

The genius of both systems is their dual-layered structure. The public face draws in seekers with ideals of morality, compassion, and personal growth. The hidden core, accessible only through successive initiations, operates in a world of occult allegory, ritual precision, and spirit interaction. Whether one calls those spirits Buddhas, angels, demons, or archetypes depends largely on one’s interpretive lens. From a Christian lens, it is clear that both systems engage with fallen angels.

Freemasonry and Tibetan tantric Buddhism, at first glance, seem to occupy opposite ends of the cultural spectrum, one a Western fraternal order, the other an Eastern spiritual tradition. Yet both can be read as initiatory magical systems that mask their deeper workings behind an accessible moral or philosophical front. For the uninitiated, this outer layer is all they will ever see. For those who pass through the degrees or empowerments, the real initiation may lie in forging a relationship with the very forces their public image denies. And that is where the parallels become most disturbing.

These similarities are not vague or coincidental. They are structural, symbolic, and functional. Strip away the public image and both systems follow the same blueprint: they lure the seeker with ideals, bind them with oaths, then initiate them into rituals that channel demonic forces. Below is a side-by-side look at how the two traditions mirror each other in startling detail.

Freemasonry vs. Tibetan Tantric Buddhism: Structural & Occult Parallels

AspectFreemasonryTibetan Tantric Buddhism
Outer PresentationFraternal order promoting moral improvement, philanthropy, brotherhoodCompassion-based philosophy, meditation, cultural preservation
Initiatory Structure3 public degrees (Entered Apprentice → Master Mason) followed by higher Scottish Rite or York Rite degrees culminating in the 33rd degreeThree turnings of the wheel of Dharma leading to tantric initiation (Vajrayana), then advanced empowerments and yogas
Vows/OathsOaths of secrecy and loyalty; historical versions included symbolic penaltiesSamaya vows taken during empowerments, with karmic penalties for violation (illness, misfortune, spiritual ruin)
Hidden CurriculumEsoteric symbolism, Kabbalistic and Hermetic philosophy, rituals involving archetypal forcesAdvanced deity yoga, mantra recitation, visualization, and energy-body work aimed at merging with yidams (tutelary deities)
Entities InvokedAllegorical architect figure, angels, and names from older magical traditions; higher degrees hint at Lucifer as light-bearerDeities, protectors, and Buddhas invoked in ritual, often fierce or wrathful forms with clear pre-Buddhist shamanic traits
Magical ToolsCompass, square, tracing boards, symbolic implements; ritual words and gesturesVajra (dorje), bell, mandalas, mudras, mantras, tormas (substitutes for sacrificial offerings), visualized palaces
Source TraditionsHermeticism, Kabbalah, Rosicrucianism, medieval guild ritualBön shamanism, Indian Tantra, Himalayan spirit practices overlaid with Buddhist philosophy
Outer vs. Inner TeachingsPublicly moral, privately esoteric; higher levels teach occult philosophyPublicly compassionate, privately tantric; higher levels teach deity invocation and magical union
Binding MechanismOaths tie member to lodge and brotherhood, reinforced through ritual dramaSamaya ties disciple to guru and the deities invoked, reinforced through ritual visualization and mantra
Potential Root ParallelsMystery schools of antiquity, ritual magic, symbolic initiationsMystery schools of antiquity, ritual magic, symbolic initiations (via Eastern streams)

When we see these parallels laid bare, the comforting illusion of ancient wisdom starts to crumble. The robes and rituals, whether in a Masonic lodge or a Himalayan temple, are not neutral cultural artifacts. They are technology for binding humans to hidden powers, likely demons. Those who hold the keys to these systems know exactly what they are doing. The question is not whether the forces behind them exist, but whether the seeker truly understands who or what is answering when the call is made.

Sacrifice, Favor, Repeat

mim

Before the modern age romanticized pagan religions into New Age panaceas, ancient worship was known to be raw and brutally pragmatic. In our modern spiritual-industrial complex, it is often sugarcoated into some kind of warm, earth-loving ceremony filled with personal empowerment and divine intimacy. But if you’re reading this, you’re probably already suspicious of that narrative.

In fact ancient religion, pagan religion, was highly transactional. The gods didn’t love you. They didn’t weep over your suffering or aspire to protect you.

A passage from Behold the Christ: Proclaiming the Gospel of Matthew by Leroy A. Huizenga makes this brutally clear. Pagan worship, he writes, operated on the ancient principle of do ut des: “I give so that you give back.”(1) In other words, the gods and humans used each other. You offered sacrifices, incense, food, or praise not out of adoration, but because you wanted something in return: good crops, protection in war, fertility, rain, wealth, healing, vengeance, and victory. And the gods? They wanted to be fed, praised, and kept relevant. It was mutual exploitation dressed up in sacred costume.

“That is, the worshipper provides a sacrifice to a god that pleases and empowers the god, who then turns around and does the worshipper favors. Because the gods are often indifferent to humans, worshippers engage in repeated ritual to reach out and get a god’s attention.”

This paragraph says more about ancient spirituality than most modern New Age books on “manifesting” or “connecting with the divine.” The ancients weren’t confused. They understood that the gods were powerful, unpredictable, and not especially interested in human wellbeing unless there was something in it for them.

And this wasn’t limited to Rome or Greece. Versions of do ut des appear in Vedic sacrifice, Mesopotamian temple economies, and also Tantric Buddhist practice where offerings are made to wrathful deities to invoke, control, or appease.

Nowhere is this transactional logic more systematized and ritualized to the point of industrial precision than in Tibetan Buddhism. While cloaked in the language of enlightenment and compassion, the tradition is saturated with mechanisms that mirror the ancient do ut des economy: elaborate offerings, incense, butter lamps, mandalas, and tormas (sacrificial cakes that replaced blood offerings when the Buddhist principle of ahimsa “non-harming” took root). These were given not out of unconditional reverence, but to elicit specific outcomes from specific deities. Monastic liturgies are not just meditative recitations, but are negotiations with a pantheon of wrathful and peaceful beings, each with their own preferences, powers, and temperaments. Moreover, the non-harming sentiment in Tibetan Buddhism only extends so far. While Buddhist tantra forbids blood sacrifice, its subjugation rituals, aimed at both spiritual and human enemies, can involve some of the most brutal punishments found in any ritual religion.

Drupchöd ceremonies, held in large monasteries, exemplify this beautifully. These are days- or weeks-long ritual marathons involving collective chanting, visualization, music, mudras, and vast offerings, all designed to propitiate deities into bestowing protection, wisdom, and worldly benefits like health and prosperity. Whether invoking Mahakala to remove obstacles or Tara for swift blessings, the assumption is clear: the deity acts when properly fed, praised, and invoked. The gods (or enlightened beings, depending on your doctrinal parsing) are not passively watching; they’re participants in a cosmic economy, and Tibetan Buddhism, more than almost any other tradition, has mastered the bureaucratic apparatus needed to transact with them. It’s not just about personal devotion. It’s about correct performance, correct offerings, and the correct “exchange rate” of ritual. The love of the gods is not assumed. Their attention must be earned over and over again.

Modern Takeaways and a Warning

This transactional pattern isn’t limited to ancient paganism or esoteric Tibetan ritualism. You’ll find the same spiritual economy alive and well in the darker corners of contemporary occultism. Take it from someone like Riaan Swiegelaar who’s lived on the other side: former Satanists and occult practitioners routinely speak of offering sacrifices, especially blood, to demons in order to negotiate outcomes.(2)

He described it well: “A lot of people ask me, ‘Why are there so many sacrifices in Satanism? Why is there blood?’ The answer is simple: blood has currency in the spirit world. If I want to negotiate with demons, I need to bring an [animal] sacrifice because that blood holds value. It functions as spiritual capital.

“But here’s the contrast: the blood of Jesus is the highest currency in the spirit world. It covers everything. That’s the authority we stand on. And every ex-Satanist or ex-occultist who’s encountered Christ will tell you the same thing. I might be the only one talking about it openly, but this is real: we engaged in negotiations with demons, offered animal sacrifices, and got results. That’s how the system worked. Then we experienced the blood and love of Christ and there’s no comparison. It’s not even close. His blood is infinitely more powerful. In spiritual warfare, people need to grasp that reality. The blood of Christ is free, but it is not cheap, is it? It came at the highest cost. And what happened on the cross? That wasn’t a one-time transaction in history: it remains as valid, active, and potent today as it was then, and always will be.”

This is so important that it bears repeating: no spiritual currency, no ritual offering, no demonic pact compares to the raw, unmatched power of the blood of Christ. This is the rupture at the heart of Christianity: the economy of sacrifice is over, not because gods stopped demanding payment, but because one sacrifice bankrupted the system.

From blood-soaked altars in Babylon to ritual offering tormas in Himalayan monasteries, humanity has always traded devotion for power and offerings for favor. But the cross flipped the script. There is no more need for bartering, manipulation, and performance to win divine attention. What Christ offered wasn’t another payment into the cosmic vending machine but a final act that rendered the machine obsolete. And if that’s true, then every attempt to re-enter the old system, whether through pagan ritual, tantric bureaucracy, or occult negotiation, isn’t just a return to tradition. It’s a rejection of victory.

(1) Leroy A. Huizenga, Behold the Christ: Proclaiming the Gospel of Matthew (Emmaus Road Publishing, Steubenville, Ohio).

(2) Riaan Swiegelaar, former co-founder of the South African Satanic Church, in various public testimonies including interviews and livestreams (e.g., “Riaan Swiegelaar Testimony,” YouTube, 2022), has spoken openly about blood sacrifice as spiritual currency and his eventual conversion after experiencing the love of Christ.

Enlightenment as a Smokescreen: How Luciferianism and Tibetan Buddhism Mirror Each Other

mim

When I was a devoted Tibetan Buddhist, the word enlightenment held sacred weight. It meant the complete awakening of compassion and wisdom, the state of a Buddha who sees through illusion and dedicates themselves to freeing all sentient beings from the sufferings of samsara. I trusted in that vision, because I believed I was following a noble tradition.

But even then, something always felt a little off. I had a quiet discomfort I kept pushing aside.

The problem was this: the term enlightenment wasn’t exclusive to Buddhism. I saw the same word used in the occult, in Theosophy, Freemasonry, and even Luciferianism, often in ways that glorified rebellion and the pursuit of hidden knowledge. Why were systems as wildly different as Tibetan Buddhism and Luciferian occultism both invoking “enlightenment” and “awakening” as their ultimate goal? Why did the same term span both the sacred and the profane?

Tibetan Buddhism: Enlightenment as Compassionate Wisdom

In Tibetan Buddhism, enlightenment is the realization of emptiness, the transcendence of ego, and the birth of boundless compassion. The ideal of the bodhisattva is someone who delays their own final nirvana in order to help all other beings reach liberation. This enlightenment isn’t just something a guru gifts you; it’s a hard-won transformation of your own mind.

Vajrayana Buddhism, the tantric branch of Tibetan Buddhism, adds layers of secrecy and initiation. There are empowerments, mantras, visualizations, and guru devotion practices. It uses powerful symbols such as vajras, weapons, fire, and wrathful deities that on the surface could resemble occult ritual. This made me uneasy. Was this actually an Eastern form of the same hidden path to power that Western esoteric groups followed?

I reassured myself that Vajrayana was different. It used “occult” methods, maybe, but only to realize true compassion and emptiness. Still, the similarity in tone and terminology between tantric rituals and occult rites always bothered me.

Now, after 35 years of hard work, study, devotion, and ultimately betrayal at the hands of tantric Buddhist gurus and deities, I’ve come to a grim realization: the enlightenment I was seeking wasn’t what I thought it was. It is merely an occult system dressed in Buddhist robes. The deeper I went, the clearer it became that Tibetan Buddhism and Luciferianism are two sides of the same coin. They may use different language, imagery, and rituals, but they are architecturally and spiritually similar and they both serve darkness, not light.

The word that they share, enlightenment, is the bait they use to ensnare seekers.

Luciferianism and Tibetan Buddhism: Two Faces of the Same Enlightenment Agenda

In Luciferianism, enlightenment is about becoming your own god. Lucifer is framed not as evil, but as the “light-bringer,” the one who defies divine authority to bestow forbidden knowledge. Enlightenment here is rebellion, self-deification, and esoteric power.

Helena Blavatsky, the founder of Theosophy, which heavily influenced modern occultism, named her journal Lucifer and described the figure as a misunderstood bringer of divine wisdom¹. In The Secret Doctrine, she refers to Lucifer as the “spirit of intellectual enlightenment”² and equates him with the higher mind of humanity. Freemasonry, Theosophy, and modern occultism all share the core motif: moving from darkness to light, and from ignorance to gnosis, through secret initiation.³

This kind of “light” is occult and exclusive. The “enlightened ones” in these systems are initiates who’ve been brought into deeper mysteries. The light is not for everyone; it’s reserved for those chosen by the system who are able to serve its agenda.

What shocked me, and what I ignored for years, is that tantric Buddhism functions much the same way. It promises special teachings, revealed only to the initiated. It trains students to see their guru as a living Buddha, above criticism or doubt, and presents his questionable actions as “skillful means,” while bypassing basic moral accountability. There is a similar secretive, hierarchical structure although this one is surrounded by colorful thangkas and Sanskrit mantras.

The deeper I went, the more I saw that my devotion was being weaponized against me. Tantric gurus used “crazy wisdom” to justify harm, and “samaya vows” to silence dissent. It wasn’t really compassion, but a spiritual aristocracy, no different from the occult orders I once thought Buddhism stood apart from. The beatific vision of enlightenment for the benefit of all sentient beings was merely the bait. The hook was the hidden power of dark forces.

Now I see clearly that the word enlightenment, both in Tibetan Buddhism and Luciferianism, functions as a kind of smokescreen. It sounds noble, luminous, and superior. But in both systems, it serves those in power and creates a class of “enlightened ones” who are above reproach, who serve gods and buddhas from unseen realms that are not what they appear to be.

“Enlightened Ones” as Agents of the Lie

It’s not just that the term enlightenment is misused. It’s that those who claim it, whether in Tibetan Buddhism or Luciferianism, are agents of a system that serves a being or beings pretending to be of the light.

These “enlightened ones” often behave the same way, regardless of tradition: they demand loyalty, obedience, and silence. They wield charisma and secrecy as tools. And when challenged, they invoke mystical authority and retaliation.

In both systems, the “light” is a mask and those who follow it are bound to something posing as divine. Whether it’s called Buddha, a Bodhisattva, an Ascended Master, or Lucifer, the same current runs underneath: it is a demonic force clothed in the language of transcendence.

Christianity and the True Nature of Light

Unlike Tibetan Buddhism and occultism, Christianity doesn’t use enlightenment as a central goal. It speaks instead of salvation, grace, and being born again through the Holy Spirit. The light of Christ is not esoteric knowledge reserved for an initiated elite but is open, relational, and grounded in love and repentance. Christ’s light is not something attained through ritual or secrecy; it is something revealed publicly and offered to all.

As Jesus says in the Gospel of John: *“I have spoken openly to the world. I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret.”⁵ This sharply contrasts with occult traditions, including tantric Buddhism, where knowledge is concealed, layered in initiations, and distributed only to those deemed “ready.” In my own experience, this secrecy became a mask for control. I was told not to question or doubt. I had to sacrifice my own inner wisdom and clarity.

But the light of Christ does not require silence or blind devotion. The Holy Spirit is not a power to be manipulated, but a divine presence who convicts, comforts, and guides with truth. In my experience, that is the only light that does not deceive.

Every other version I followed, no matter how radiant it appeared, eventually demanded that I suppress my discernment, abandon my conscience, and serve a system of secrecy cloaked in mystical language.

A Word to the Seekers

To anyone still in these systems, or brushing up against them through yoga, New Age teachings, or tantric practices: be careful with “light” that demands you stop using discernment. Be cautious of teachers who ask for your silence or your soul. Be wary of the spiritual forces behind the promised enlightenment.

I say this not as an outsider, but as someone who gave my life to this path. I practiced the rituals, prostrated to the gurus, and offered my heart in devotion. And when the mask came off, I saw what was truly being served, and it wasn’t holy. It was something else entirely.

Footnotes and Sources

  1. Blavatsky, H. P., Lucifer, Vol. 1. Theosophical Society, 1887.
  2. Blavatsky, H. P., The Secret Doctrine, Vol. 2. Theosophical Publishing House, 1888.
  3. Pike, Albert. Morals and Dogma of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry. Southern Jurisdiction, 1871.
  4. Mackey, Albert G. The Symbolism of Freemasonry. Masonic Publishing, 1882.
  5. The Holy Bible, English Standard Version, John 18:20.
  6. Crowley, Aleister. The Book of the Law. 1904.
  7. Bailey, Alice A. Initiation, Human and Solar. Lucis Publishing Company, 1922.
  8. Dapsance, Marion. “Behind the Smiling Façade: Abuse in Tibetan Buddhism.” Le Nouvel Observateur, 2018. Translated and discussed in Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.
  9. Sawerthal, Anna. “Sogyal Rinpoche’s Abuse and the Breakdown of Secrecy in Buddhism.” Tricycle, 2018.
  10. Peljor, Tenzin. “Tibetan Buddhism and Abuse: Why Critical Thinking is Essential.” Interview in Spiegel Online, 2019.

When Spirits Enter: Comparing Vajrayana Empowerment with Western Occult Initiation

mim

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.

A Critical Look at Vajrayana Magic

mim

Vajrayana Buddhism presents itself as a path of radical transformation: a sacred alchemy where ordinary perception is transmuted into enlightened wisdom. Its ritual technologies are often described as “skillful means,” and its magical practices framed as expressions of “Buddha activity.” But the colorful mandalas and enchanting deity meditations may obscure something far more dangerous than most practitioners realize.

According to vajranatha.com, Vajrayana operates through four principal kinds of magical activity, each aligned with a cardinal direction, a color, and a particular type of power:

  • White (east): for pacifying and healing
  • Yellow (south): for increasing wealth and wisdom
  • Red (west): for attraction and control
  • Dark blue or green (north): for wrathful subjugation and protection

These are personified in the deity forms of White Tara, Dzambhala, Kurukulla, and Vajrakilaya, respectively. Collectively, these “Four Activities” are described as enlightened, but their function mirrors the mechanisms of many other occult systems: healing, sorcery, love spells, exorcism, and domination.

So who, or what, is powering these rituals?

Chögyam Trungpa, one of the most influential Tibetan lamas to bring Vajrayana to the West, once gave a startlingly candid warning:

“Committing oneself to the Vajrayana teaching is like inviting a poisonous snake into bed with you and making love to it. Once you have the possibility of making love to this poisonous snake, it is fantastically pleasurable: you are churning out antideath potion on the spot. The whole snake turns into antideath potion and eternal joy. But if you make the wrong move, that snake will destroy you on the spot.”
—Chögyam Trungpa

This is not a metaphor for the all-encompassing wisdom and compassion of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. It is a warning of immense spiritual danger.

Vajrayana demands the total surrender of body, speech, and mind, not only to the teachings, but to the guru and the spiritual forces behind those teachings. This surrender is cloaked in bliss, ecstasy, and the promise of transformation. But as Trungpa makes clear, one wrong move and the very force you trusted can turn lethal. It can turn on a dime.

I experienced this firsthand. It began as a profound visualization and mantra practice during a three-year retreat and gradually turned into energetic torment and psychological destabilization. The deities I once practiced became increasingly foreign, invasive, and predatory. The guru, once seen as a vessel of wisdom, became a wrathful executioner.

These practices are not what they seem: they tap into powerful magic. And one must ask, who is really powering these rituals? Who benefits when a practitioner opens themselves to these entities and their so-called “energies”? Why should we assume these forces are benevolent, simply because they have Buddhist names and appear in ornate, colorful iconography?

The structure described here isn’t just about religious symbolism or spiritual beauty, it reflects a deep psychological system designed to influence the mind through ritual. Vajrayana practices use visualization, chanting, offerings, and mantra repetition to create altered states of consciousness and emotional bonding with supernatural entities. This is what scholars call ritual psychology: the way ritual shapes belief, identity, and experience.

But Vajrayana doesn’t just manipulate the mind. It aligns closely with classic occult systems, ones that use similar rituals to summon, contact, and make pacts with spirits. Healing and increase, attraction and domination are bit neutral tools. They are technologies for channeling unseen forces toward specific outcomes. And these forces are personified, and bonded with through ritual acts that, the deeper you go, begin to resemble spiritual possession with demonic pacts.

In my own experience, the entities I contacted through these practices eventually revealed themselves to be something other than the enlightened mind of the Buddhas, whatever that might be. They had their own will, their own agendas, and their own personalities. Especially in the darker rites of semi-wrathful and wrathful deities, there was a sharp edge of coercion, and spiritual threat.

If we take these rituals seriously, not as colorful mysticism, but as real technologies of spiritual manipulation, then we must also take seriously the possibility that their source may not be benevolent.

Just because it’s branded as “Buddha activity” doesn’t mean it is holy. Survivors of spiritual abuse in Tibetan Buddhism must be brave enough to ask the hard questions. Who, or what, are we inviting into our minds and bodies when we chant these mantras, visualize these beings, and make offerings in exchange for spiritual results? Are these forces truly enlightened or are we just calling them that because we’ve been taught to?

When your healing comes at the cost of spiritual bondage…When your wisdom is bought by making pacts with demons…Something is deeply wrong.

Magic in Vajrayana is not peripheral but central to the practice. And it must be examined not with awe, but with clear-eyed discernment.