Tag: religious trauma

The Structure of Tantric Abuse

mim

In Tibetan tantric Buddhism, the relationship between guru and disciple is said to be sacred, a channel for transmission of enlightenment itself. Yet within that same structure lies a potential for absolute domination. When a guru feels threatened, betrayed, or exposed, the same system that demands devotion can become an instrument of terror.

The tantric logic of punishment

In tantric doctrine, every vow (samaya) between guru and disciple is a metaphysical bond. Breaking it is said to unleash cosmic consequences. Ancient texts speak of wrathful deities and oath-bound protectors who punish those who “slander the guru” or “harm the Dharma.” The idea is not metaphorical. Illness, accidents, or misfortune are interpreted as visible proof that unseen forces are enforcing spiritual law.¹

A guru who believes this, and who claims mastery of the dark ritual practices that command those forces, often teaches others to believe it. That teacher wields enormous psychological power. To label someone a “samaya-breaker” is to mark them as deserving of sickness or death. This is not an internal accusation only; it shapes the views of the community where the guru holds god-like power. It gives the guru a pretext to use ritual methods to harm students whenever he deems it necessary.

Entities that cause disease

Traditional Tibetan cosmology offers a detailed taxonomy of spirits believed to cause physical and mental harm: bdud (demons), gdon (malevolent spirits), btsan (fiery mountain gods), klu (serpent beings of water), and srin po (ogres).² Each category is said to afflict a different organ, emotion, or realm of life. Texts such as René de Nebesky-Wojkowitz’s Oracles and Demons of Tibet describe elaborate systems of offerings and threats designed to control these beings.

Within this worldview, ritual specialists do not invent malevolent forces but redirect them. A demon bound by oath can be petitioned to punish a perceived oath-breaker. Protector deities can be asked to “remove obstacles” by striking enemies with disease or madness. These ideas are deeply embedded in tantric liturgy and methodology, even if modern dharma centers prefer to describe them symbolically.

The internal logic of coercion

When this metaphysical framework meets the authoritarian structure of a retreat or monastic hierarchy, the result can be catastrophic.³ Gurus can claim divine justification for acts that would otherwise be seen as abusive. If a disciple questions orders, refuses sexual advances, or tries to leave, the teacher can declare them in spiritual violation. From that point on, any misfortune that follows can be attributed to supernatural punishment rather than the guru’s actions.

Real world allegations

The potential for that logic to cross into criminal abuse is not theoretical. Adele Tomlin has published a series of testimonies from women who participated in long-term tantric retreats under the auspices of major Tibetan Buddhist organizations in the United Kingdom and Nepal. According to Tomlin’s report, complaints were submitted to trustees of the dharma centers, as well as to resident teachers. Police reports were also made, with at least one woman reportedly informed that criminal acts had occurred.

The list of complaints is substantial: “…sexual harassment, sexual assault/coercion, ‘false imprisonment’ i.e. refusing to allow people to leave the retreat for urgent matters, such as medical diagnosis and treatment or due to psychological breakdowns, emotional bullying, insistence on signing non-disclosure legal agreements, refusal to provide proper aid to those in physical pain or serious sickness. It was reported that women who had requested to leave the retreat for the above reasons were responded to with threats that they would go to hell…and telling them they would have short lives, terrible sicknesses and their family members would die and get sick too.” There are also accounts of tantric rituals being misused “to ‘force’ consorts to engage in ‘subtle body energy’ unions without appropriate consent/devotion or even pre-requisite qualifications of the guru or consort for such a relation,” and reports that participants’ passports were confiscated before entering retreats in Nepal.”³ See Tomlin’s article here.

The psychology of fear

Once a disciple internalizes the idea that disobedience invites divine punishment, ordinary safeguards such as the law, conscience, and community protection lose their power. The guru becomes both the source of danger and the only possible protection from it. Fear of sickness, insanity, or karmic ruin may keep followers silent even when they experience or witness abuse. This is coercive control disguised as spirituality.

Why tantra is uniquely risky

Every hierarchical religion can produce abuse, but tantric systems amplify the risk because they contain dark magical rituals that can be used to secretly harm students who do not show proper obedience. In the Tibetan tantric system, the guru is not just a teacher but the embodiment of enlightenment itself. Vows are said to bind across lifetimes. Breaking them is imagined to destroy spiritual progress and unleash demonic retribution. That belief gives abusive teachers a supernatural mandate to harm and a theological excuse when they do.⁴

Many practitioners are drawn to long-term retreats by tantra’s promise of transformation. But are the risks worth it? Without structural accountability, the same tools can become weapons. When secrecy, charisma, and ritual authority converge, even devoted, sincere, and intelligent students can be trapped in a reality of pain and punishment.

For those who have lived inside such systems, the scars run deeper than physical or sexual trauma. The damage is also ontological: the haunting sense that unseen forces will stalk them forever and that they are cursed beyond escape. Healing begins by reclaiming moral and spiritual agency, by recognizing that no guru, spirit, or protector holds dominion over one’s body, mind, or fate. Yet once that agency has been surrendered to powerful gurus and their invisible minions, recovering it can be very difficult.

Notes

  1. Stanley Mumford, Himalayan Dialogue: Tibetan Lamas and Gurung Shamans in Nepal (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989).
  2. René de Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Oracles and Demons of Tibet (The Hague: Mouton, 1956).
  3. Adele Tomlin sole author of Dakini Translations website: NOT SO “HOLY ISLE”? TRAGIC TALES OF REPORTED (AND ENABLED) BULLYING AND SEXUAL MISCONDUCT TOWARDS WOMEN AT SAMYE LING UK BUDDHIST CENTRES THAT ENDED IN PHYSICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL HARM, ATTEMPTED SUICIDES AND MURDER. Article excerpted with attribution.
  4. Geoffrey Samuel, Civilized Shamans: Buddhism in Tibetan Societies (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993).

“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.

The Subconscious as Battleground: Demonic Infiltration Through the Wounds of the Psyche

mim

In our modern world, the subconscious is often reduced to a psychological artifact, a repository of repressed memories, habits, and impulses. But from a biblical and Catholic standpoint, this internal space is more than just a vault of emotion and instinct. It is a spiritual battleground and a vulnerable domain where real entities, such as demons seek entry and control.

I speak not in theory but from personal experience. As someone who has lived through the horror of possession, I know firsthand what it means to have my subconscious colonized by non-physical forces, in particular, Tantric deities and the so-called yidams (meditational deities) I once invoked in long term retreats. They now exert control over my dreams at night, not as fragments of memory, but with an intention, force, and intelligence all their own.

Trauma, Sin, and the Open Doors

The Catholic tradition is clear: sin creates openings. These are spiritual vulnerabilities through which demonic powers can assert influence. But it’s not always sin, but often wounds and traumas that become entry points. This aligns, ironically, with what Jung called the shadow: the parts of ourselves we deny or fail to integrate.

In occult and tantric frameworks, these shadows are often “worked with” i.e. ritualistically invited, named, and visualized. In my case, the visualizations of the yidam were never just symbolic. They were summonings that invited intelligent spiritual entities through geometric portals into the liminal space of my subconscious mind.

Obviously, tantric rituals are powerful, but the power is not “of God.” The light of Christ later revealed to me that what I had opened myself up to were demonic counterfeits or parasitic forces clothed in deceptive splendor.

The Subconscious

While the Jungian model treats these internal figures such as archetypes, gods, and dreams, as symbolic representations of the psyche, Biblical scripture offers a different view. Ephesians 6:12 tells us that our struggle is “not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world.”

What modern psychology calls “unconscious drives” may, in reality, be demonic actors exploiting our blind spots. They can manifest through thoughts, compulsions, visions, or dreams. They don’t just influence behavior, they shape the architecture of perception, infiltrating belief itself. This is why confession and deliverance are not just spiritual maintenance but are spiritual war strategies.

Dreams: The Nightly Invasion

The yidam I practiced during my retreats appears nightly, manipulating my dreams and injecting disturbing images, physical sensations, and false feelings of failure and yearning. It tries to arouse old loyalties alternating between affects of pseudo kindness and visions of cruel and bitter punishments. These dream invasions foster confusion and despair; and sometimes cause sensations of physical torment.

From a biblical perspective, dreams are a legitimate domain of spiritual communication, but that doesn’t mean all dream figures are from God. In Jeremiah 23, the Lord condemns false prophets who “make my people forget my name by their dreams.” Satan can disguise himself as an angel of light and in my experience, tantric deities do precisely that.

We must recognize the subconscious not as a private fortress, but as a permeable space, one that requires guarding, cleansing, and illumination by Christ alone. Anything else, especially tantric visualization and archetypal meditation, opens up doors we cannot close on our own.

There is no neutral spirituality. Every spiritual practice either opens the soul to grace or to deception. As one who has been inside the snare, I say this without hesitation: tantric deities are demons in disguise, and their preferred hiding place is the very part of us we least understand: the subconscious.

But Jesus Christ, in His mercy, descends even into those hidden caverns, casting out darkness and healing the wounds that made us vulnerable in the first place.

“For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that He might destroy the works of the devil.”
— 1 John 3:8

The Mask of Enlightenment

mim

A Survivor’s Account of Spiritual Abuse

In the modern spiritual landscape, the image of the Tibetan Buddhist guru reigns supreme: a figure of wisdom, compassion, and radiant loving-kindness. They preach mindfulness, selflessness, and sanctity, inviting seekers into what appears to be a sacred journey toward enlightenment. Yet, to me, this image is a facade, a carefully curated performance masking a much darker reality.

I write these words not as a distant observer but as someone who has experienced firsthand the profound betrayal of being targeted by spiritual teachers I once trusted. In my personal journey, three different gurus, revered in their communities for saintly and/or enlightened behavior, turned to black magic rituals against me when I questioned, disagreed, or simply became inconvenient to their carefully maintained personas. This article is an exploration of the deep cognitive dissonance that allows such individuals to publicly embody ideals of compassion while privately committing acts of cruelty.

The Ideal: Loving-Kindness and Compassion as a Mask

Gurus in traditions such as Tibetan Buddhism, Hinduism, and various New Age movements are often held up as embodiments of selfless love and wisdom. Their teachings and writings are saturated with the language of peace and universal compassion. In public, they radiate qualities such as patience and gentleness, reinforcing the image of infallibility.

This idealized projection is not merely for the benefit of followers; it also serves the guru’s own self-concept. They must see themselves, and be seen as holy, thereby reinforcing their authority and maintaining their social and spiritual power.

The Threat: When a Disciple Questions Authority

In the sanitized image of the perfect guru, there is no room for dissent. Questions, criticisms, or any sign of independence from a disciple can be perceived not as opportunities for dialogue, but as existential threats. After all, if a guru’s authority rests on the illusion of flawless wisdom and compassion, any crack in that image could unravel the entire edifice.

When faced with a questioning or independent-minded disciple, an insecure guru may respond not with the compassion they preach, but with fear, rage, and vindictiveness. To protect their power, they must eliminate the threat, not through open dialogue or humility, but through covert aggression.

The Betrayal: Weaponizing Spiritual Power

Traditions rich in esoteric knowledge provide tools that can be used for healing and protection, but also for harm. Tibetan Buddhism, for instance, preserves rituals historically intended to call down curses, obstacles, and psychic attack upon perceived enemies.

In my experience, these gurus invoked black magic against me. These were not random charlatans; they were highly respected spiritual leaders, who waxed eloquently in the language of love and compassion. Yet when challenged, they resorted to covert energetic and magical attacks, using the very tradition they claimed to uphold to violate the sacred trust between teacher and student.

Cognitive Dissonance: Reconciling Saintliness with Malice

How does a guru reconcile the horror of harming a disciple while maintaining their self-image as a bodhisattva, a compassionate enlightened being? The answer must lie in cognitive dissonance: the mental stress of holding two contradictory beliefs simultaneously.

To preserve their self-concept, the guru must justify their actions internally:

  • “I am protecting the dharma.”
  • “This disciple was dangerous, impure, deserving of punishment.”
  • “Sometimes cruel and violent actions are necessary for the greater good.”

Through rationalization, projection, and splitting, they maintain the fiction of compassion while engaging in spiritual violence. They convince themselves that their harmful actions are righteous, necessary, and justified.

The Aftermath for the Disciple

For those of us on the receiving end, the experience is devastating on many levels. It deeply tears at the soul to be targeted by those we once revered. The betrayal fractures trust not only in teachers but in the entire spiritual path. The disciple may grapple at first with:

  • Confusion: “Was it my fault?”
  • Self-doubt: “Did I deserve this?”
  • Spiritual disillusionment: “Is true compassion even real?”

If the disciple survives this first stage, similar to a victim of Stockholm syndrome, there comes a gradual dawning of the truth: the Tibetan Buddhist path, far from being one of light, has revealed itself as a path of darkness. That realization, painful as it is, can ultimately be deeply empowering.

I do not minimize the devastating effects of the powerful magic performed by these modern-day mahasiddhas. Black magic attacks are very real, manifesting as physical illness, emotional despair, and worse. Healing from such trauma requires immense courage and deep inner work. It is one of the most horrific experiences a human being can endure.

Yet, there is a stronger and truly holy force at work in the universe: the Most High God–yes, the biblical God. Sadly, many Tibetan gurus seem to have little experience of Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, or the true mercy and compassion that they embody.

The Deeper Horror: Gurus Possessed by False Spirits

It is not enough to say these gurus made mistakes or succumbed to human weakness. When a soul trained in the disciplines of compassion, wisdom, and loving-kindness instead chooses cruelty, retaliation, and spiritual violence, something darker is at work.

One must ask: how can they inflict such harm without being crushed by the weight of their own conscience? The terrifying truth is that many of these gurus may no longer be acting from their own hearts at all. They are, at some deep inner level, possessed, not by the enlightened deities they claim to serve, but by deceptive demonic forces masquerading as gods, bodhisattvas, protectors, and spirits of light.

In their ignorance and self-deception, they have invited darkness into themselves. They have handed over their will to entities that delight in mockery, destruction, and the inversion of sacred teachings. The rituals they once performed for healing and protection now become channels for curses, oppression, and spiritual decay.

And yet, even in this darkness, a greater light shines.

There is a true and living God, the Most High, whose justice is perfect and whose mercy is real. There is Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the incorruptible power of divine love, utterly beyond the reach of these childish gurus and their counterfeit spiritualities.

The Tragic Consequences of Romantic Relationships Between Tibetan Gurus and Their Female Disciples

mim

In the world of Tibetan Tantra, the guru is not merely a teacher. He is regarded as a living embodiment of enlightenment, someone who, once accepted, must be obeyed as if he were the Buddha himself. Into this framework walk countless Western women, often earnest seekers of truth, healing, or transcendence. But when romance, sexuality, and devotion become intertwined, the results are rarely transformative. More often, they are tragic.

This article explores the inherent power imbalance, cultural dissonance, and psychological manipulation that underpin many intimate relationships between Tibetan tantric gurus and their female disciples.

A Different Cultural Code

In Tibetan culture, it is not uncommon for powerful men, including lamas, to have secret relationships, multiple consorts, or children outside of marriage. In many traditional communities, this behavior is normalized, even expected. Male infidelity is culturally tolerated, and truth-telling in romantic relationships is not seen as a moral imperative.

For many Western women, however, raised in societies where emotional honesty and monogamy are core values in intimate relationships, these behaviors come as a rude awakening. When a Tibetan lama engages in a romantic or sexual relationship with a Western disciple, he often does so under entirely different assumptions than she brings to the table.

The result is a tragic mismatch, not only of expectations, but of entire worldviews.

Samaya: A Weaponized Vow

At the heart of tantric Buddhism is the concept of samaya, a sacred vow of loyalty and obedience to the guru. These vows are complex, often opaque, and understood differently in Tibetan contexts than in the West. A Western woman may believe she is entering a relationship based on mutual affection or spiritual partnership, while the guru sees her as a consort, a dakini, a means to an end, whose role is to support his realization through sexual union, secrecy, and ritual submission. A less realized guru might just use women for his own sexual satisfaction without having the ability to properly engage in tantric sex for spiritual ends. This is often true nowadays.

In any case, breaking samaya is said to have dire consequences, not only spiritually, but psychologically, and physically. The risk is greatly compounded if the woman undertakes a traditional three-year-retreat and engages in the highest yoga tantra practices, including the physical yoga. The looming threat of tantric destruction can trap women in relationships that are exploitative, confusing, and coercive. Once the guru becomes the channel for the deity, any questioning of his authority can be framed as demonic and a cause for imminent karmic downfall.

Possession Disguised as Enlightenment

Tantric union is not merely symbolic. It often involves rituals where the guru is said to be “inhabited” by the deity and his voice, gaze, and touch become divinely charged. During such practices, the female disciple is encouraged to dissolve her ego, to merge into the guru-deity, and to practice dak nang or “pure view.” This process can mimic, and in some cases become, a form of spiritual possession.

What’s often missed is the psychological and energetic takeover that occurs. The guru, now deified in the disciple’s mind and practice, can dominate her thoughts, dreams, emotions, and even her bodily functions. This fusion can make it nearly impossible for her to discern spiritual guidance from emotional manipulation or sexual coercion.

Real-World Tragedies

Numerous cases, both widely reported and quietly suppressed, illustrate the dangers of intimate relationships between tantric gurus and their students. These accounts reveal recurring patterns of deception, coercion, and spiritual abuse, all cloaked in esoteric language and asymmetrical power dynamics. They are not isolated incidents but part of a systemic pattern deeply embedded in a tradition that grants unchecked spiritual authority to men who are rarely held accountable.

For those who wish to explore further, consider just a few of the many investigations and testimonies:

Buddhist Project Sunshine – Phase 3 Final Report (2018)
This comprehensive report documents allegations of abuse within the Rigpa community, providing detailed accounts and analyses.
📄 Read the PDF Report

Beyond the Temple – What Now? Blog
Formerly known as “What Now?”, this blog offers reflections and information from ex-Rigpa members about their experiences and the broader implications of abuse in spiritual communities.
Beyond the Temple – Survivors of Abuse in Tibetan Buddhism

Tricycle – “Rigpa Abuse: Former Students of Sogyal Rinpoche Share Their Stories”
An article featuring firsthand accounts from former students detailing their experiences with Sogyal Rinpoche and the Rigpa organization.
📰 Read the Article

Lion’s Roar – “Letter to Sogyal Rinpoche from Current and Ex-Rigpa Members Details Abuse Allegations”
This piece publishes a letter from Rigpa members outlining specific abuse allegations against Sogyal Rinpoche.
📄 Read the Letter

The Aftermath: Disillusionment and Healing

For many women, the breaking point comes when the promised enlightenment fails to materialize, and the emotional wounds become undeniable. Depression, anxiety, spiritual confusion, sexual trauma, and a profound crisis of faith often follow. Some leave Tibetan Buddhism altogether. Others struggle for years in silence, fearing karmic retribution or spiritual failure.

But there is also healing. More and more survivors are finding their voices, connecting with others, and re-evaluating what true spirituality looks like outside the grip of occult religions.

Conclusion: A Cautionary Tale

The guru-disciple relationship in tantric Buddhism is not a romantic ideal. It is a spiritual contract saturated with asymmetrical power, cultural blindness, and theological complexity. When this dynamic becomes sexual, the risks multiply exponentially. For Western women seeking union with the divine, the guru-lover becomes not a liberator but a captor. The elaborate practice of guru yoga further seals the deal.

This truth must be told, not to demonize individuals or traditions, but to expose the structural and spiritual dangers that thrive in secrecy. Love, in its purest form, cannot flourish where truth is sacrificed to deception and devotion is manipulated into coercion.

The Mirror and the Light: Spiritual Execution in Tibetan Feudalism

mim

In Hilary Mantel’s The Mirror and the Light, Thomas Cromwell rises from blacksmith’s son to the right hand of King Henry VIII. He becomes the monarch’s “mirror and light,” reflecting and executing his will. But the same proximity that elevates him also destroys him. When Cromwell fails to deliver a pleasing queen, he is arrested, disgraced, and executed, his closeness to power proving fatal.

Tibetan tantric Buddhism operates on a hauntingly similar logic. In this tradition, the guru is king, and the disciple, like a courtier, is raised or destroyed at the guru’s whim. Far from being egalitarian or purely spiritual, Tibetan Buddhism, especially in its institutional forms, retains a deeply feudal structure, complete with titles, inheritance, land ownership, and enforced hierarchy.¹

Tibetan Buddhism as a Feudal System

For centuries, Tibetan Buddhism was not just a religion but the ruling system of the nation. The Dalai Lama was both spiritual sovereign and temporal king. Monasteries controlled vast tracts of land, collected taxes, and held legal authority over villages.² Senior lamas, often reincarnated tulkus, inherited wealth and power from their predecessors, a system akin to aristocracy by divine right. Large institutions like Drepung, Sera, and Tashi Lhunpo amassed political influence and wealth, with monasteries owning up to two-thirds of arable land in pre-1950s Tibet.³

The tulku system (identifying reincarnated masters) consolidated this feudalism. Wealth and authority passed to a chosen child, often from a high-status family, and the child was installed into a network of patronage, where senior monks managed the estate until the tulku matured. Ordinary monks and villagers remained economically dependent on these institutions, often working the land in exchange for spiritual services and blessings.⁴ According to historian Melvyn Goldstein, Tibetan society was “essentially a form of monastic feudalism.”⁵

The Guru as King: Absolute Power

In the Vajrayāna path, the guru is not merely a teacher: he is treated as the Buddha himself. Vajrayāna texts warn against questioning the guru, no matter how erratic or abusive his behavior.⁶ Students are bound by samaya (tantric vows), which demand total obedience, silence, and loyalty. In this relationship, the disciple becomes like Cromwell: a mirror for the guru’s will, performing rituals, making offerings, and receiving favor or punishment.

This closeness creates the illusion of intimacy, even love. Many disciples report feeling spiritually chosen or singled out by the guru. But this intimacy masks a darker truth: it is conditional and instrumental. When the disciple fails to satisfy the guru, by asking questions, expressing trauma, or failing to uphold impossible vows, they are cast out. Not just socially, but cosmically.⁷

Falling Out of Favor: Spiritual Annihilation

When a disciple displeases a guru in these feudal tantric systems, the consequences are severe. Historically, punishments ranged from beatings and public shaming to exile from the monastic estate.⁸ In modern times, exile takes subtler forms: ostracism, reputation assassination, spiritual gaslighting, and the threat of karmic damnation. Survivors of abuse report being told they were “possessed by demons,” “breaking their samaya,” or “falling into the lower realms” simply for speaking out.⁹

Just like Henry VIII’s wives or ministers, the disciple who falls out of favor is ritually erased. Their years of devotion are forgotten; their insights mocked. The same master who called them “special” now identifies them as a threat to the dharma. The disciple’s proximity to power becomes their undoing.

When the Light Burns

The title The Mirror and the Light is tragically fitting for both Thomas Cromwell and the countless disciples who believed that closeness to the guru meant safety. In Tibetan tantric Buddhism’s feudal framework, it often means the opposite. Disciples serve as tools of the guru’s charisma, devotion, and control. When they no longer reflect his will, they are discarded and spiritually “executed” without ceremony.

Just as Cromwell’s brilliance could not save him, neither can sincerity or devotion save a disciple in a rigged, feudal system.

Footnotes

  1. Geoffrey Samuel, Civilized Shamans: Buddhism in Tibetan Societies (Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993), pp. 22–29.
  2. Melvyn C. Goldstein, A History of Modern Tibet, Volume 1: The Demise of the Lamaist State (University of California Press, 1989), pp. 80–95.
  3. Matthew T. Kapstein, The Tibetans (Wiley-Blackwell, 2006), pp. 142–148.
  4. Toni Huber and Stuart Blackburn, Origins of the Tulku System in The Social History of Tibetan Institutions (Brill, 2002).
  5. Goldstein, History of Modern Tibet, p. 90.
  6. Alex Wayman, The Role of the Guru in Vajrayana, in Tibetan Buddhism: Reason and Revelation, ed. S. Lopez (SUNY Press, 1997).
  7. Miranda Adams, Samaya and Silence: Enforcing Obedience in Vajrayana Communities, unpublished thesis, 2020.
  8. Janet Gyatso, Being Human in a Buddhist World (Columbia University Press, 2015), ch. 3.
  9. Annabella Pitkin, “Broken Samaya and the Threat of Hell: Devotion, Dissent, and Control in Contemporary Tibetan Buddhism,” Journal of Global Buddhism, Vol. 22 (2021).

What I Thought I Was Practicing in Tibetan Buddhism vs. What It Really Was

mim

When I first encountered Tibetan Buddhism, I was filled with awe, curiosity, and hope. I was drawn to the idea of understanding the nature of mind, developing calm abiding (shamatha), and cultivating compassion and insight. I immersed myself in classic Mahayana texts like the Uttaratantra Shastra, with its soaring vision of Buddha nature, the luminous potential for awakening that each sentient being carries within them.

At that time, I was eager to deepen my meditation practice and learn how to navigate the mental storms of daily life. I believed this was a path of inner wisdom, clarity, and direct realization. I thought I had found something intellectually rigorous and deeply profound.

But after committing years of my life I realized that Tibetan Tantric Buddhism was a spiritual system that operated under authoritarian control, cultural secrecy, and a disturbing atmosphere of fear.

The Surface Beauty: What Drew Me In

  • The language of awareness, wisdom, and nonduality
  • Practices that promised to tame the mind and open the heart
  • Philosophical texts filled with Buddhist logic, the concept of emptiness, and the path of the bodhisattva
  • Encouragement to observe the mind and transcend egoic fixation

Like many sincere Western seekers, I accepted the rigid cultural structure, including the many hours of chanting in Tibetan, the hierarchy, and the ornate rituals, as necessary forms for accessing ancient wisdom. I told myself these were wrappings around the real treasure.

What I Actually Encountered

Instead of freedom, I slowly found myself embedded in a system that demanded unquestioning obedience to the guru, who was said to be indistinguishable from the Buddha himself. We were told the guru’s words were more important than our own inner convictions. If we had doubts, those were signs of impure perception or obstacles on the path.

And so, I suppressed my own sense of truth.

Instead of learning to observe my mind freely, I was encouraged, compelled, really, to submit my perception, my will, and even my moral conscience to someone else’s “realization.” In time, I was told that even misconduct or abuse from a guru must be viewed as pure, and that questioning it was a sign of my spiritual deficiency.

Essentially this was total submission to a human teacher presented as a living deity.

A Necessary Evil… or Something More?

For a long time, I rationalized this aspect of guru devotion. I thought, “This is just part of the package. I’ll take the good parts and accept the hierarchical guru system as a necessary condition to receive the blessings.”

But nothing prepared me for the revelation that this system involved actual practices of deity possession, and in some cases, black magic rituals by a covert spiritual power structure that operated on vengeance. And this wasn’t metaphorical.

The Hidden Core: Deity Possession and Guru Sorcery

Many Tibetan Vajrayana rituals involve āveśa, a concept that translates into spirit or deity possession. The practitioner “invites” a deity to merge with their mindstream. The guru is not just a teacher; he is seen as an embodiment of the deity, and rituals are performed to enforce that identification.

I discovered too late that some high-level gurus use this system to gain psychic and physical access to their disciples, manipulate their minds, and even curse those who disobey or break vows. This is not hyperbole but what has been hidden under the language of compassion and wisdom: a deeply esoteric system of spiritual domination.

My Awakening

It took me years to deprogram myself from the idea that questioning a guru meant spiritual death, and even longer to reclaim my own inner voice, the voice God placed in me. I now walk a different path entirely: One that does not require blind submission, that honors truth over secrecy, and Christ over cosmic manipulation.

If You’re Reading This…

You’re not crazy for feeling that something is off. You’re not wrong to listen to your instincts. What seems like harmless chanting, beautiful thangkas, and inspiring philosophy may hide something far more controlling and spiritually dangerous than you realize.

The Cultish Nature of Tibetan Buddhism

mim

When I began my journey into Tibetan Buddhism, I was swiftly enveloped in its rituals and traditions. Without much explanation, I was handed monastic robes, instructed to shave my head, and urged to take lifelong vows. This rapid immersion into a structured and demanding system left me questioning the true nature of the practice. Was this a genuine spiritual path, or was I being drawn into a cult masquerading as a path to enlightenment?

The Allure of Tibetan Buddhism

Tibetan Buddhism often presents itself as a path of loving-kindness, compassion, and profound meditative insight. Its teachings emphasize peace, mindfulness, and the cultivation of wisdom. On the surface, these ideals are appealing and resonate with many.

However, lurking beneath this serene exterior is a complex structure of vows, rituals, and hierarchical relationships that can be overwhelming and oppressive.

The Samaya Vows: Protective or Deadly?

Central to Vajrayana Buddhism are the samaya vows, which are commitments taken by practitioners during tantric initiations. They establish a sacred bond between the guru and the disciple, outlining the conduct required to uphold that bond.

These vows can create a sense of obligation and fear. Breaking samaya is believed to lead to severe karmic consequences, placing immense pressure on individuals to adhere strictly to obedience no matter what the guru does.

Hidden Subjugation and Control

The hierarchical nature of Tibetan Buddhist communities can lead to overt forms of mind control and manipulation. The reverence for the guru borders on unquestioning subservience, with the guru’s authority rarely being challenged. This dynamic can foster an environment where questioning is discouraged, and followers are compelled to conform to the guru’s demands and the group’s expectations.

Moreover, the concept of “crazy wisdom” is sometimes used to justify behavior that would otherwise be deemed inappropriate or abusive. This philosophy, associated with figures like Chögyam Trungpa, suggests that unconventional or even disruptive actions by a guru are acceptable if they lead to spiritual awakening. Such justifications can blur ethical boundaries to the extent that students are ripe for abuse.

The Dark Side of Tibetan Buddhism

Instances of widespread misconduct within Tibetan Buddhist communities have been reported, raising concerns about the integrity of these institutions. The case of Sogyal Rinpoche, the founder of the Rigpa organization, is one example where allegations of sexual abuse and severe authoritarian control surfaced, leading to significant controversy and criticism. After eight students leaked a letter on the internet exposing his crimes, a highly-regarded Khenpo associated with the group gave a talk denouncing those eight students, angrily declaring that they would all go to vajra hell. Even though many Westerner disciples of Tibetan Buddhism don’t believe in vajra hell, I can assure you from first hand experience that it’s very real. You can read more about it here.

These incidents highlight the potential for exploitation within systems that place immense power in the hands of a single individual or a small group of leaders. The lack of accountability and transparency in many Tibetan Buddhist organizations can create an environment ripe for cultish abuse.

Conclusion: A Call for Critical Reflection

While Tibetan Buddhism appears to offer profound teachings and practices, it is essential to approach these traditions with a critical eye. The allure of compassion and peace should not overshadow the lack of ethical conduct, transparency, and respect for individual autonomy that often hides beneath the surface.

Jesus Let Me Walk Away; the Gurus Did Not

mim

When I was fifteen, I walked away from the Catholic Church.

There was no drama, no spiritual backlash, no eerie sense of guilt or dread. I simply left. I had questions, and I didn’t know the answers. Like so many teenagers raised in religion, I drifted toward freedom, or what I thought was freedom. But I never stopped believing in Jesus Christ. I always knew He was real.

Still, for eight years, I lived outside the Church. No demons haunted me. No spiritual “agents” came after me. No dark force tried to pull me back or punish me. I was free to explore.

Then, at twenty-three, I was introduced to Tibetan Buddhism by a friend. Spiritual curiosity quickly became commitment. The teachings were deep, the rituals profound, and the promises huge. My belief in Jesus wasn’t challenged outright; instead, the gurus cleverly and swiftly recast Him as a “bodhisattva,” one of many enlightened beings in a cosmic buffet of spiritual options. I was told He was admirable, but not unique. Just another wise, and probably enlightened teacher.

I didn’t realize then how that subtle shift had planted the seeds of spiritual confusion. Over time, the practices became more demanding and more secretive. Eventually questions weren’t welcomed. When I began to notice darker occult elements woven into the heart of the practice, I had troubling doubts. The tantric path spoke of vajra hell, an eternal punishment for those who questioned or broke samaya (spiritual vows to the guru). And not just for betrayal or disobedience, but even for internal doubts.

And when I had them, everything changed.

I was tossed out. Not just socially or emotionally, but spiritually. I was attacked, not just by my former gurus, but by unseen forces. It was violent and supernatural. The very same tradition that had claimed to offer peace and enlightenment unleashed something very dark the moment I started to turn away from the guru.

This wasn’t like walking away from the Catholic Church. It was completely different. I experienced a spiritual assault of such magnitude that no one could believe me. And it begged the question: What kind of spiritual path tortures you for eternity for having doubts?

A demonic path does.The historical Buddha taught to question everything, but tantra did not allow it.

Tibetan Buddhism may parade as a tradition of compassion and peace, but my experience showed otherwise. If it were truly of the Light, it wouldn’t need to threaten vajra hell or unleash invisible tormentors on those who simply ask blunt and honest questions. It wouldn’t need to cloak the guru in infallibility while turning a blind eye to his abuse. And it certainly wouldn’t need to demonically retaliate against a soul simply for having doubts and trauma. The difference between the two paths couldn’t be clearer. When I left the Church, there was silence. When I left Tibetan Buddhism, there was war.

Forgiveness in Christianity vs Wrath in Tantric Tibetan Buddhism

mim

In Tantric Tibetan Buddhism, forgiveness is not traditionally emphasized as it is in Christianity. Tibetan Buddhism places greater emphasis on karma, the universal law of cause and effect. According to this view, actions inherently produce outcomes, and there is little scope for simply “forgiving” or releasing someone from the karmic consequences of their deeds. Instead, purification practices are prescribed to cleanse one’s negative karma. If they are not done effectively, retribution is a given.

Ken McLeod, a prominent Western teacher and translator of Tibetan Buddhism, highlights this point clearly in an article titled, “Forgiveness is not Buddhist.” He writes, “In Tibetan Buddhism, forgiveness isn’t really addressed in the same way as it is in Christianity. Instead, there’s an emphasis on purification and insight into the nature of mind and action.” [1]

Practitioners engage in rituals and meditation practices, such as Vajrasattva purification practices, visualizing negative karma being cleansed. However, these rituals differ fundamentally from the Christian idea of interpersonal forgiveness. They are personal acts of purification rather than relational acts of forgiving or seeking forgiveness from another person or deity.

Although the emphasis in Tibetan Buddhism is allegedly on compassion (karuna), a larger concept of retribution is often at work behind the scenes. Compassion in Buddhism is the profound desire to alleviate suffering universally, extending even to one’s perceived enemies. Tantra, paradoxically, emphasizes karmic retribution that allows the guru to “payback” perceived slights and disrespect secretly using black magic techniques or “rituals of subjugation.”

Personal Account: The Dark Side of the Teachings

My own experience underscores the stark absence of forgiveness in Tantric Tibetan Buddhism. During a tantric ritual of annihilation, I desperately begged forgiveness from the guru for any perceived wrongdoing, hoping for mercy or compassion. I honestly did not know what I was being punished for. The guru, however, demonstrated not even the slightest bit of forgiveness or mercy. This painful event highlighted for me the profound differences between the compassionate forgiveness taught by Jesus Christ and the severe, impersonal karmic logic of Tantric Tibetan Buddhism.

Forgiveness in Christianity

In Christianity, forgiveness occupies a central and explicit place. It involves both human interpersonal forgiveness and divine forgiveness through the mercy and grace of God. Christianity explicitly encourages believers to forgive one another as God has forgiven them through Christ’s sacrifice on the cross.

Forgiveness in Christianity is relational, deeply rooted in repentance, reconciliation, and restoration of relationships with God and with others. It implies a personal release from the debt of sin through God’s grace, rather than the impersonal balancing of karmic scales.

Jesus teaches explicitly on forgiveness, such as in the Lord’s Prayer (“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”), emphasizing the interconnectedness of receiving and giving forgiveness. Forgiveness is portrayed not merely as a spiritual virtue but as a fundamental practice essential to spiritual health and salvation itself.

Western Practitioners and Misplaced Assumptions

Many Western practitioners of Tibetan Buddhism unconsciously overlay their Judeo-Christian cultural and moral values onto the tantric Buddhist teachings, often at their own detriment. They assume the presence of forgiveness and personal mercy that simply do not exist in the traditional tantric framework. This mistaken belief can lead practitioners to misunderstand or misinterpret the intentions and actions of teachers, making them vulnerable to exploitation and emotional and physical harm. Ultimately, recognizing these fundamental differences can lead to safety, and protection from mistaken spiritual paths. For more about the guru’s ability to engage in karmic retribution see here, here, and here.

[1] Ken McLeod, “Forgiveness is Not Buddhist,” Unfettered Mind, https://unfetteredmind.org/forgiveness-is-not-buddhist/ (accessed April 9, 2025).