Tag: tantric deception

What If the Kundalini Serpent Fire Was Once Angelic?

mim

What if some of the radiant beings that ancient texts call Seraphim, the fiery, serpentine angels who once circled the throne of God, fell from that high order? The Hebrew word saraph itself means both burning one and serpent. In that ambiguity lies a bridge between the flaming spirits of heaven and the serpent powers found in other traditions.

Across the world, in the Sanskrit Purāṇas and yogic literature, there are also serpentine intelligences: the Nāgas, the Kundalinī energy, and the goddess figures who appear surrounded by flames. The sage Patañjali, author of the Yoga Sūtras, is deeply linked with serpent symbolism. In Indian mythology, he is sometimes described as an incarnation (avatāra) of the serpent deity Ādiśeṣa, or Ananta, the cosmic serpent who supports Viṣṇu. Ādiśeṣa is said to have descended to earth to bring knowledge that would relieve human suffering. This connection is why Patañjali is often portrayed with a serpent hood behind his head or a serpent body below the waist. Whether or not serpent spirits literally whispered the Yoga Sūtras to him, serpent imagery pervades yogic and tantric cosmology. The Nāgas are keepers of divine wisdom, and Kundalinī is envisioned as a coiled fiery energy at the base of the spine that awakens through disciplined practice. Over time, these motifs merged into a vision of serpentine power as both the source and the path of revelation. Suppose these mythic beings were echoes of the same order of spirits, glimpsed through another cultural lens. If the Seraphim of the Old Testament were “burning ones,” what would a fallen Seraph look like to those who encountered its power? Perhaps like the Kundalinī Śakti, a current of fire roaring through the body, consuming and transformative, perilous and hideous.

In Tibetan tantric art, figures such as Vajrayoginī blaze with this same imagery. She stands wreathed in flame, hair flying, a garland of human heads around her neck: a being of immense energy and occult knowledge. To her accomplished devotees she is enlightenment embodied, but to others overwhelmed by her force, the experience could resemble an encounter with a terrifying, cosmic intelligence that feels at once divine and frightfully destructive.

In Christian cosmology, the Seraphim stood closest to the divine light, their essence described as pure burning love. If the story of the angelic rebellion is true, the fall of Lucifer and his host might be understood as the perversion of that love for God turned inward toward self-worship. The Seraphs, if any joined that rebellion, would have fallen from the highest heaven to earth yet carried the memory of their incandescent proximity to the Most High. After such a fall, their nature would remain fiery but unmoored, no longer worshipping the divine but seeking vessels in which to become divine objects themselves, demanding reverence rather than giving it. Their rebellion took the form of imitation, of becoming godlike and leading humans away from God through elaborate systems of spiritual artifice. Seen through that lens, the serpent fire that rises in the body could be a vestige of this celestial descent, a remnant of the same luminous essence striving to return upward yet incapable of abiding in heaven because of their grave sin. In mythic terms, these fallen Seraphs might not have become the grotesque demons described by some exorcists but radiant, fallen intelligences deprived of their proper axis.

Catholic exorcists often describe demons as denizens of hell, creatures of stench, mockery, and degradation that feed on blood and fear. Yet if a third of the angels fell, the fallen host was not of one kind alone. Tradition holds that beings from all nine choirs joined the rebellion, from the lowly messengers to the highest Seraphs who once blazed before the throne. After the fall, these spirits lost their divine orientation but not their essential nature: fiery where they had been fiery, clever where they had been wise. In rebellion they became hierarchies of distortion, a dark mirror of heaven. Some manifest as the grotesque forms exorcists encounter; others as subtler intelligences still bearing the trace of their former luminosity. And what of the Nephilim, the offspring of the “sons of God” and human women? When they died, it is said, they became wandering spirits of great malice. “Demon,” then, is not a single species but a spectrum of fallen orders, each expressing what it once was in a corrupted form. As one exorcist observed, each fallen angel is a species unto itself. A fallen Seraph would perhaps appear differently from a fallen Power, Dominion, or Nephilim spirit.

If the Kundalinī or tantric fire represents contact with that residual Seraphic current, it may explain why it bears both a luminous and a destructive face. The energy feels ancient and intelligent. The ecstatic experiences described in yogic ascent mirror, in certain sense, a fallen entity yearning to return to its source. The agony that often accompanies a kundalini awakening—the painful burning, the psychic rupture, and the sense of another will within—could be the friction between that powerful celestial energy and the humble human vessel struggling to contain it. Whether one interprets this as possession or not, the pattern remains: what was once angelic becomes dangerous when severed from its orientation toward God and seeking to inhabit a human host.

Whether understood theologically, psychologically, or experientially, the speculation remains: serpent fire is something that seeks to burn within human beings, hoping to be redeemed and adored rather than condemned.

Spiritual paths that promise transcendence through serpent fire often walk a razor’s edge where illumination meets peril. Tantric Deception seeks to explore that tension, showing how practices that seem to lead toward light may instead open gateways into spiritual posession and darkness. What begins as ascent toward divinity can turn into descent into hell, both in this life and beyond. To approach the serpent fire is to confront both heaven and the echo of its fall, a perilous imitation of grace. One might call it a race to the bottom. The fallen angels made their choice long ago, and according to Christian theology there is no return for them. Those who follow, worship, or seek to become like them will share their fate in the same fire reserved for their fallen gods, a place described in Scripture as the final dwelling of the devil, his angels, and all who reject the true light. There they are said to be cast into a lake of fire that burns without end, cut off forever from the presence of the Most High God, where the torment born of rebellion becomes eternal.

When Tantric Union in Tibetan Buddhism is Invasive and Unwanted

mim

The ideal of tantric union in Vajrayāna Buddhism is described as the merging of wisdom and compassion, form and emptiness, masculine and feminine. In classical Tibetan art this appears as the yab-yum image of male and female deities in embrace.¹ The symbolism points to inner union, yet within the secrecy and hierarchy of tantra this ideal can become distorted. When intimacy, devotion, and power mix, the result can be psychological or sexual harm rather than awakening.

Union beyond the physical

“Union” (las kyi phyag rgya, maithuna) does not always refer to sexual intercourse. Many lineages teach “mental” or “energetic” union, where teacher and student visualize merging through subtle-body channels or shared deity practice.² Scholar Holly Gayley has examined how such “secret consort” (gsang yum) relationships blur lines between spiritual transmission and sexual exploitation.³

Anecdotal reports from practitioners describe non-physical experiences of sexual arousal or even orgasm initiated by the guru, without consent or understanding. For those unprepared, these experiences can feel like psychic invasion and an intrusion into the mind-body field. The ethical question is whether such experiences can ever be consensual in the context of absolute guru devotion.

The mechanism of “mental union”

Tantric theory holds that through visualization, mantra, and subtle-body control, energies (prāṇa, rlung) can be directed between beings. A guru visualized as a deity may “enter” the disciple’s heart or crown chakra, merging mindstreams in blessing.⁴ In positive settings this symbolizes transmission of realization. Yet in cases of coercion the same mechanism becomes violation: the student’s energetic body is penetrated without consent.

Ritual texts sometimes describe the guru entering the disciple’s central channel (tsa uma) through gaze or mantra, symbolic of energetic or spiritual transmission.⁵ Within Hindu Tantra, similar accounts exist of masters manipulating the disciple’s kundalinī or chakras.⁶ These ideas frame the possibility of non-physical sexualized experiences as part of spiritual union. When combined with secrecy and unequal power, the result may feel like mental rape rather than initiation.

Power, secrecy, and consent

The Vajrayāna guru is regarded as embodiment of the awakened state itself.⁷ Devotion to such a figure can override ordinary ethical boundaries. In Western contexts, where students lack cultural preparation, the potential for abuse rises sharply. Alexander Berzin warns that Western practitioners often misunderstand the traditional checks on guru authority and therefore submit to unhealthy relationships.⁸

Secrecy deepens the problem. The samaya vow forbids disclosure of tantric practices, even to peers. Gayley observes that this secrecy “can be used to reinforce sexual violence and silence abuse.”³

Real-world allegations

At Kagyu Samye Ling monastery and its retreat centre on Holy Isle in Scotland, multiple allegations have surfaced over the past decade. Reports describe bullying and psychological pressure during advanced retreats. Recently it was reported that a British woman may have died by suicide after a four-month retreat there. While there is no public evidence of sexual misconduct toward her, other survivors have alleged earlier incidents of “energy access” by the same teacher. Allegations included the use of “subtle body rape/sexual energy invasion,” according to an article by Adele Tomlin on the Dakini Translations website.⁹

The under-discussed nature of subtle-body abuse

Such cases remain largely invisible because tantric language itself obscures boundaries between metaphor and reality. A teacher’s claim of “mind-union” or “blessing” can mask non-consensual psychic intrusion. Students are often told that doubt equals spiritual failure, and that refusal breaks samaya. Without transparent ethics, the very tools meant to free the mind become weapons of domination.

Moving forward

Ethical tantric practice requires explicit, informed consent at every level: physical, psychological, and energetic. Teachers must articulate clearly what practices entail, and students must retain the right to refuse and leave. The spiritual promise of union cannot excuse the violation of personal autonomy. However, this kind of transparency is unheard of. Proper review structures and support for survivors are practically non-existent in most Tibetan Buddhist centers. The allegations surrounding Samye Ling and Holy Isle highlight what scholars such as Gayley describe as tantra’s “shadow”: the ease with which power can transform spiritual intimacy into a form of manipulation and abuse.

References

  1. Buddha Weekly, “What’s a Consort Union in Tantric Buddhism?” https://buddhaweekly.com/whats-consort-union-tantric-buddhism-no-not-sexual-fantasies-psychology-yab-yum-consorts-union-wisdom-compassion/
  2. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Religion, “Tantra and the Tantric Traditions of Hinduism and Buddhism.” 2016.
  3. Gayley, Holly. “Revisiting the ‘Secret Consort’ (gsang yum) in Tibetan Buddhism.” Religions 9 (2018).
  4. Snellgrove, David. The Hevajra Tantra: A Critical Study. Oxford University Press, 1959.
  5. Wedemeyer, Christian K. Making Sense of Tantric Buddhism: History, Semiology, and Transgression in the Indian Traditions of Buddhist Tantra. Columbia University Press, 2013, esp. chap. 3–4, on symbolic initiation and tantric ritual language.
  6. White, David Gordon. Kiss of the Yoginī: “Tantric Sex” in its South Asian Contexts. University of Chicago Press, 2003.
  7. “The Guru Question: The Crisis of Western Buddhism and Global Future.” Info-Buddhism.com.
  8. Berzin, Alexander. Relating to a Spiritual Teacher: Building a Healthy Relationship. Snow Lion, 2000.
  9. Dakini Translations, “Suicide of Woman Reported in ‘Survivors of Samye Ling Support Group,’” by Adele Tomlin, the sole author of that site. https://dakinitranslations.com/2025/10/28/suicide-of-woman-reported-in-survivors-of-samye-ling-support-group-alleged-bullying-by-drupon-khen-karma-lhabu-teacher-misuse-tantra/
  10. Buddhistdoor Global, “Maithuna: Reflections on the Sacred Tantric Union of Masculine and Feminine.” https://www.buddhistdoor.net/features/maithuna-reflections-on-the-sacred-tantric-union-of-masculine-and-feminine/

The Squeamishness of Scholarship: Cameron Bailey’s Critique of Sam van Schaik’s book on Buddhist Magic

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Sam van Schaik’s Buddhist Magic: Divination, Healing, and Enchantment through the Ages (2020) attends to the often-overlooked domain of spells, incantations, divination, healing rituals, and what one might call “magic” in Buddhist traditions. The book offers, among other things, a translation of a Tibetan spell-book from the Dunhuang corpus and situates it in a broad historical trajectory of Buddhist ritual technologies. Yet in his 2021 review for H-Net, Cameron Bailey argues that the book suffers from significant omissions, conceptual limitations, and a subtle apologetic tone toward the more aggressive, violent, and transgressive forms of magic found in tantric Buddhism.¹ Bailey suggests that this tone is not simply stylistic but stems from deeper disciplinary biases about what “real” Buddhism is and what kinds of ritual power are acceptable to the scholarly gaze.

For readers of Tantric Deception, which is concerned with hidden ritual power, subversive techniques, and coercive practices in the “shadow” side of tantra, Bailey’s critique is especially pertinent. The benign, therapeutic, protective aspects of magic are only half the story; the aggressive, destructive, boundary-breaking elements are equally constitutive. Here the critique unfolds on three levels: (1) Bailey’s reading of Chapter 3 of van Schaik’s book (on the Ba ri be’u ’bum); (2) his broader objections to how van Schaik defines “magic” and frames the field; and (3) implications for the study of tantric magic and deception.

Bailey’s Critique of Chapter 3: “A Tibetan Book of Spells”

Bailey looks at Chapter 3, which discusses the Tibetan spell-book known as the Ba ri be’u ’bum, compiled by Ba ri Lotsāwa in the eleventh century.² Van Schaik concludes the chapter by pointing to the presence of violent magical ritual, what might be called “black magic,” in Buddhist spell-books and tantric scriptures such as the Vajrabhairava Tantra.³

Bailey’s critique is threefold:

  1. Understatement of prevalence. Van Schaik, he argues, seriously understates how widespread aggressive or destructive ritual practices are in tantric sources: “He could also have discussed the army-repelling magic in the Hevajra Tantra, the legendary violent magical exploits of the great tantric sorcerer Rwa Lotsāwa, or Nyingma Mahayoga scriptures, which are often positively brimming with black magic.”⁴
  2. Authorial discomfort. Bailey detects an obvious unease with “aggressive” magic and with rituals that use human remains as ingredients, suggesting van Schaik takes an apologetic tone when discussing them.⁵
  3. Scholarly bias. He links this tone to the longstanding tendency of Buddhist studies to privilege an idealized, pacifist Buddhism: “This kind of squeamishness … unconsciously replicates the biases of past generations of Buddhist scholars …. It is ultimately an artifact of Western observers thinking they know more about what should constitute normative Buddhism than their sources do …”⁶

For Bailey, this is not simply an omission but a rhetorical framing that soft-pedals the destructive dimensions of tantric magic.

Defining “Magic”: Bailey’s Broader Critique

Bailey extends his criticism to van Schaik’s opening chapters, where the author defines his working category of “Buddhist magic.” Van Schaik adopts a “family-resemblance” approach, noting that no direct equivalent of the Western word magic exists in Sanskrit or Tibetan.⁷ He describes magical practices as “focused on worldly ends, including healing, protection, divination, manipulation of emotions, and sometimes killing. The effects of these techniques are either immediate or come into effect in a defined, short-term period. The techniques themselves are usually brief, with clear instructions that do not need much interpretation, and are gathered together in books of spells.”⁸

Bailey objects that this framing:

  • Over-narrows the field by confining magic to short-term, worldly ends, thereby excluding tantric practices that are long, soteriological, and embedded in complex ritual technologies.⁹
  • Privileges text and literacy, focusing on manuals and specialists while sidelining oral, embodied, and popular forms of practice.¹⁰
  • Sanitizes the topic by foregrounding healing and protection while downplaying cursing, corpse-magic, and enemy destruction.¹¹

He concludes: “The way he defines and explains ‘magic,’ and describes how magical practices have traditionally been used by Buddhists across Asia, ends up inadvertently reinforcing many of the historical scholarly prejudices against magic that he ostensibly is trying to correct.”¹²

Van Schaik’s framework thus risks reproducing the very boundaries it seeks to challenge.

A Wider Blind Spot: Aggressive Magic and the Tantric World

Bailey argues that van Schaik should have engaged more fully with texts such as the Hevajra Tantra (with its army-repelling spells), the violent exploits of Rwa Lotsāwa, and the Nyingma Mahayoga scriptures filled with wrathful deities, corpse-magic, and enemy-destruction rites.¹³ By not doing so, or by treating such material as peripheral, van Schaik, he claims, sanitizes Tibetan Buddhism. “Van Schaik displays an obvious discomfort with the presence of ‘aggressive’ magic … and takes an apologetic tone when discussing them.”¹⁴

For scholars of tantra, this omission matters because tantric systems operate through extremes such as creation and annihilation, compassion and wrath, life-force and death. To highlight only healing and protection produces a partial picture of ritual power, one aligned with modern therapeutic Buddhism but detached from the coercive, political, and martial realities of historical tantric practice.

Bailey notes that while van Schaik does acknowledge violent spells (for example, in the Dunhuang materials), he does not trace how these recur and become canonical in later tantric systems.¹⁵ The result is a book that opens the field but keeps its most provocative elements at the margins.

Implications for the Study of Tantric Magic and Deception

Bailey’s critique has clear implications for the study of tantric ritual power:

  • Broaden the definition of magic. Magic in Buddhist contexts is not confined to short spells. It includes deity-yoga, state-sponsored rituals, corpse-assemblage, body technologies, and institutions of ritual power.
  • Recognize multiple aims. Magic serves soteriological as well as worldly purposes such awakening, subjugation, and mediation between spirits and humans.
  • Acknowledge popular practice. Lay and non-monastic forms of magic interpenetrate elite traditions. Focusing solely on literate specialists truncates the field.¹⁶

Examining the Aggressive and Transgressive

To understand tantric magic fully, scholarship must confront its aggressive, destructive, and taboo aspects such as spells to kill or incapacitate, invocations of wrathful deities, rituals using human remains, and forms of mystical violence justified through tantric cosmology. When these are treated as aberrations, the study of tantric sovereignty, ethics, and power becomes impoverished.

Deception, Hidden Power, and Normativity

Bailey’s review also raises a methodological issue: the scholar’s discomfort can itself become a form of concealment. Reluctance to confront violent or transgressive material filters what is studied and what remains hidden. Bailey argues that van Schaik’s apologetic tone mirrors earlier generations of scholarship that preferred a morally “respectable” Buddhism.¹⁷

For research into deception, secrecy, and power in tantra, this is crucial. Reflexivity is required: how much of what we present as Buddhism is sanitized by our own unease with its violent, ambiguous realities?

Conclusion

Cameron Bailey’s critique of Buddhist Magic is more than a review. It is a reminder that scholarly framing shapes what becomes visible and what remains unseen in the study of ritual power. Van Schaik’s work makes an important contribution by bringing spells and enchantments to the center of Buddhist studies. Yet, as Bailey insists, by downplaying the aggressive and coercive sides of tantric magic, it perpetuates a pacified image of [Tibetan] Buddhism.

For those exploring tantra, deception, and hidden power, the shadow side of magic demands attention. Spells of domination and annihilation, corpse-magic, and state-sorcery are part of the story. Scholarly discomfort cannot determine what counts as legitimate tantric Buddhism. True understanding must include the violent and transgressive alongside the healing and protective.

Van Schaik opened the door; Bailey challenges us to step through. In tantra, concealment is not accidental, it is a method and a weapon. So too must scholarship have the courage to unmask it.

Notes

  1. Cameron Bailey, “Review of Sam van Schaik, Buddhist Magic: Divination, Healing, and Enchantment through the Ages,” H-Buddhism (H-Net Reviews), July 2021. https://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=56639.
  2. Ibid.
  3. Ibid.
  4. Ibid., p. 3.
  5. Ibid.
  6. Ibid., p. 4.
  7. Van Schaik, Buddhist Magic: Divination, Healing, and Enchantment through the Ages (Boulder: Shambhala Publications, 2020), pp. 6–8; Bailey, review.
  8. Quoted in “Think Again Before You Dismiss Magic,” Lions Roar, April 2020.
  9. Bailey, review, p. 3.
  10. Ibid.
  11. Ibid.
  12. Ibid., p. 2.
  13. Ibid., p. 3.
  14. Ibid.
  15. Ibid.
  16. Ibid.
  17. Ibid., p. 4.

References

Bailey, Cameron. “Review of Sam van Schaik, Buddhist Magic: Divination, Healing, and Enchantment through the Ages.” H-Buddhism (H-Net Reviews), 2021. https://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=56639.
Van Schaik, Sam. Buddhist Magic: Divination, Healing, and Enchantment through the Ages. Boulder: Shambhala Publications, 2020.
“Think Again Before You Dismiss Magic.” Lions Roar, April 2020.

How So-Called “Buddhist” Dhāraṇīs, Images and Mandalas Were Developed Post Buddha

mim

I spent years as a Tibetan tantric Buddhist practitioner. I once assumed the mantra, ritual, and mandala machinery I practiced was simply the Buddha’s own teaching passed down intact. We were taught that although the historical Buddha did not teach tantra in person, he taught it after his passing, on Mount Malaya, to gods and men. Koichi Shinohara’s work forces a different view and poses the question: Did Sakyamuni really teach the long formulaic dhāraṇīs, image worship, and mandala visualization as later practitioners used them? Or did later communities invent those ritual technologies and then cloak them in the Buddha’s authority so people would better accept them?

In Spells, Images, and Maṇḍalas: Tracing the Evolution of Esoteric Buddhist Rituals, Shinohara gives us a working hypothesis that can be pressed hard for answers.[1] The rituals in question are most plausibly later innovations that used the Buddha’s prestige to become authoritative. They were not the Buddha’s core teachings in any strictly historical sense. That does not make them illegitimate as religious forms for people who practice them today. It does mean historians and critics should stop pretending these rituals are reflections of Sakyamuni’s own instructions. The burden of proof rests on anyone who wants to show unbroken doctrinal transmission from the Buddha to the later esoteric ritual machinery.

Shinohara offers a testable, evidence-driven reconstruction. He traces a plausible sequence from simple spoken spells through image ritual to organized visualization. Crucially, he foregrounds early, datable Chinese dhāraṇī collections and ritual manuals. Those Chinese witnesses often predate the surviving Sanskrit and Tibetan corpora scholars have relied on. That chronological fact is the hinge of the whole argument. (Columbia University Press)

What Shinohara’s working hypothesis means

A working hypothesis is provisional and falsifiable. Shinohara is not issuing an ideological verdict. He is proposing a historical explanation that organizes the evidence and makes concrete predictions that could be falsified by earlier, securely dated Indian or canonical texts showing the full ritual machinery already present in the Buddha’s time. To press the hypothesis hard, scholars should look for those disconfirming witnesses. So far the datable documentary and manuscript evidence he emphasizes points toward post-Buddha innovation that relied on attribution to the Buddha for legitimacy.

The core empirical point

Early Buddhism included ritual speech. The Pali paritta corpus shows that communal protective chants and recitations were an early feature of Buddhist practice. Importantly, these early chants are directed primarily to the historical Buddha and the Triple Gem, the Buddha, the Dhamma, and the Saṅgha, rather than to the later, expanded pantheon of cosmic buddhas and bodhisattvas that appear in Mahāyāna and tantric literature. By contrast, the long, formulaic dhāraṇīs with non-lexical syllables, their ritual manuals, and the tightly scripted mandala visualizations appear in the surviving record mainly in later sources, often first in Chinese translations and compilations dated to the fourth through eighth centuries. That pattern strongly suggests the later technical dhāraṇī and mandala apparatus developed after the historical Buddha and used his name as an authority seal rather than being his literal, unbroken teaching (see Ratana Sutta and the paritta collections; Access to Insight).

Pali paritta versus three representative dhāraṇīs

Below is one short Pali paritta example and three representative dhāraṇī excerpts that have early Chinese witnesses. For each dhāraṇī there is a short literal transliteration excerpt, the earliest datable Chinese witness, and why this matters for Shinohara’s thesis.

A note about transliteration and length. Full dhāraṇī texts can be very long and use non-lexical syllables. I quote short, clearly identifiable openings or kernel sequences and give citations to the editions or translations where you can read the full texts.

A. Pali paritta exemplar (short protective chant from the Buddha’s time)

  • Text (Pali, introductory formula used in paritta recitation):
    Namo tassa bhagavato arahato sammāsambuddhassa.
    Translation: “Homage to the Blessed One, the Worthy One, the Fully and Exactly Awakened One.”
    Dating and context: part of the Ratana Sutta and the paritta repertoire attested in the earliest Pali strata and used continuously in Theravada protective ritual. These are short, lexically meaningful formulas employed in communal contexts. (Access to Insight)

This matters because paritta recitation shows early Buddhists used spoken protective formulas directed to the Buddha and the Triple Gem. That continuity leaves an opening for later mantra culture to develop, but continuity alone does not prove that the later technical dhāraṇīs were the Buddha’s teaching.

B. Uṣṇīṣavijayā dhāraṇī: short transliteration excerpt and dating

  • Transliteration excerpt (IAST style, short kernel):
    oṃ aḥ hūṃ uṣṇīṣa vijaya svāh. Translation: “Om. Ah. Hum. Victory to the Ushnisha. Svāhā.” Note: full versions are much longer and include complex Siddhaṃ syllables. The line above is a short recognizable kernel rather than the entire dhāraṇī.
  • Earliest datable witness: multiple Tang dynasty Chinese translations; primary translations appear in the late seventh century and the text circulated widely in Tang China thereafter. Several ritual manuals for this dhāraṇī were also translated into Chinese. (84000)

This is important because Uṣṇīṣavijayā is a canonical example of a dhāraṇī that crystallized as a ritual unit in China by the seventh century. Its early and repeated Chinese attestations show how the formulaic dhāraṇī corpus became standardized in East Asia, a datum that supports Shinohara’s emphasis on Chinese witnesses. (84000)

C. Nīlakaṇṭha / Great Compassion dhāraṇī: short transliteration excerpt and dating

  • Transliteration excerpt (short recognizable opening):
    Namo ratna trayāya … oṃ namaḥ parāya svāhā. Translation: “Homage to the Three Jewels… Om. I bow to the Supreme. Svāhā.”
    Again, the dhāraṇī in practice is very long; this is a short illustrative kernel.
  • Earliest datable witness: Bhagavaddharma’s Chinese transliteration of the Thousand-armed Avalokiteśvara dhāraṇī is commonly dated to ca. 650–661 CE at Khotan, and Dunhuang manuscript copies are attested from the eighth century onward. The standard East Asian version is listed in Taishō as T.1060. (Wikipedia)

This matters because the Great Compassion dhāraṇī’s early Chinese and Central Asian circulation shows the mobility of formulaic spells across cultural borders and their crystallization in Chinese textual layers before the later Tibetan tantra apparatus matured. That pattern again undercuts a simple claim of unbroken oral descent from the historical Buddha.

D. The Dhāraṇī of the Six Gates: transliteration indicator and dating

  • Short indicator: the sutra opens with formulaic addresses and contains six gate dhāraṇī sequences; full transliteration is available in modern critical editions. The Chinese translation by Xuanzang is dated to 645 CE (Taishō 1360). (84000)

This matters because Xuanzang’s mid-seventh century translation gives a secure terminus ante quem for certain dhāraṇī forms in East Asia. The existence of such dated translations is exactly the kind of evidence Shinohara places in the foreground when reconstructing the genealogy of ritual techniques. (84000)

Short methodological point about dates and what they prove

When a long formulaic dhāraṇī and a ritual manual appear in a secure, dated Chinese translation in the seventh century but not in any securely dated Indian source from the centuries immediately after the Buddha, the safest historical inference is that the particular ritual form crystallized later and that Chinese transmission played a major role in its textual preservation and standardization. That does not prove the practice first originated in China. It does show that the textual and ritual machinery as preserved and circulated in East Asia is early and often predates surviving Sanskrit witnesses. Shinohara uses exactly this dating logic to show how spells, images, and visualization interrelate historically. (Columbia University Press)

Did the Buddha forbid images or deification of himself?

Canonical passages caution against attachment to the person of the teacher. A well known example is the Vakkali Sutta where the Buddha tells the sick Vakkali that seeing the Dhamma is what matters, not seeing his physical body: “One who sees the Dhamma sees me; one who sees me sees the Dhamma.” That admonition has been read as discouraging hero cult and literal deification. (SuttaCentral)

The archaeological and textual record complicates the claim that the Buddha formally forbade images. However, here is a settled scholarly debate about early “aniconism” in Buddhist art. Most scholars agree that standardized, large anthropomorphic Buddha images do not appear widely until several centuries after the historical Buddha’s death. Some specialists argue that early absence of the anthropomorphic image reflects doctrinally driven aniconism. Other specialists argue the evidence is better explained by devotional practice, material culture, and local circumstances rather than by a simple canonical ban. In short, canonical caution about attachment to persons exists, but practice evolved in ways that embraced images for devotional, pedagogical, and institutional reasons. (Wikipedia)

For the former practitioner who wants a practical takeaway

If you were taught that tantric rituals are from Sakyamuni’s own instructions, the historical picture is more complicated and poses big questions to that narrative. The very technical dhāraṇī machinery, image cults, and visualization systems that define much of later tantric practice have a historical biography. They emerge, consolidate, and professionalize in the centuries after the Buddha lived, and much of the documentary evidence that preserves them comes from dated Chinese compilations and Dunhuang manuscripts. That history changes how they should be presented when someone claims they were directly taught by the Buddha himself.

History cannot prove the metaphysical provenance of a ritual. Textual and manuscript research can show whether a practice dates to Sakyamuni’s lifetime or to later cultural development, but it cannot by itself settle whether a given visionary or ritual impulse is benign or malign. If you take the language of spiritual warfare seriously, that uncertainty argues for caution. Here are four practical questions to ask before you embrace a practice: Where does its chain of transmission point? Does it coherently line up with the ethical core of the Buddha’s teaching, such as nonharm, compassion, and right conduct? What fruits does it produce in practitioners’ lives, emotionally and morally? And how transparent are its teachers about origins and effects? If a practice fails those tests, step back and favor practices that visibly cultivate ethical integrity and mental clarity. For someone who has been inside the tantric world, this is not an abstract exercise. It is a matter of spiritual survival. Let historical honesty inform your discernment, and let the lived, ethical results of practice be the final arbiter.

Sources and Bibliography

[1] Koichi Shinohara. Spells, Images, and Maṇḍalas: Tracing the Evolution of Esoteric Buddhist Rituals. New York: Columbia University Press, 2014. xxii, 324 pp. ISBN 9780231166140. See especially Chapter 1, “The Three Ritual Scenarios” (pp. 1–28), the material on the Collected Dhāraṇī Sūtras and the All-Gathering ceremony (pp. 28–89), and the chapters on the introduction of visualization practice (pp. 89–160). Recommended exact pages to quote when discussing the three scenarios and Chinese-dated evidence: consult pp. 1–4, pp. 28–64, and pp. 89–118 for Shinohara’s core arguments and manuscript citations. (Columbia University Press)

Primary dhāraṇī witnesses and editions (quick references)

  • Dhāraṇīsaṃgraha, Taishō no. 901, translated by Atikūṭa in the Tang; contains collected dhāraṇī sūtras and an early mandala initiation ritual. See Taishō T.901 and catalog entry. (NTI Reader)
  • Uṣṇīṣavijayā Dhāraṇī. Multiple Tang Chinese translations; widely circulated from the late seventh century. See 84000 Reading Room entries explaining translation history. (84000)
  • Nīlakaṇṭha / Great Compassion Dhāraṇī. Bhagavaddharma’s Khotan transliteration dated ca. 650–661 CE; standard Taishō entry T.1060 and Dunhuang manuscripts attest its early East Asian circulation. (Wikipedia)
  • Dhāraṇī of the Six Gates. Chinese translation by Xuanzang dated 645 CE (Taishō 1360). See Xuanzang colophon and modern critical editions. (84000)

Pali and early canonical material (for paritta comparison)

  • Ratana Sutta, Sutta Nipāta 2.1. Standard Pali editions and translations; see SuttaCentral and Access to Insight translations for text and context. (Wikipedia)

Secondary literature and resources on dating, aniconism, and early ritual evidence

  • Scholarly debate on Buddhist aniconism and the delayed appearance of anthropomorphic Buddha images. See Susan L. Huntington, “Early Buddhist Art and the Theory of Aniconism” and subsequent debates summarized in surveys of early Buddhist art. (Buddhism Library)
  • Columbia University Press page for Shinohara’s book with contents and excerpt. (Columbia University Press)

When Devotion Becomes a Cage: Abuse in the Guru–Disciple Relationship

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Based on Mary Garden’s article “The Potential for Abuse in the Guru-Disciple Relationship,” Cult Recovery 101

“No amount of evidence, nor the quality of it, will serve to un-convince the true believer. Their belief is something they not only want, they need it.” –James Randi

For decades, the Western imagination has romanticized the guru-disciple relationship: the wise, enlightened master guiding the humble seeker toward liberation. Yet beneath the rosy image lies a power dynamic that can turn toxic, even violent. Mary Garden’s searing account strips away the mystique, showing how devotion can be exploited to serve the ego, desires, and domination of the so-called spiritual elite.

A Pattern Hidden in Plain Sight

The dynamics Garden describes are not confined to Hindu ashrams or Indian gurus. They echo almost perfectly the same mechanisms of control found in certain strains of tantric practices within Tibetan Buddhism. These are systems where teachers are often elevated to godlike status and obedience is framed as the fast track to enlightenment. In both cases, devotion becomes a weapon that protects the guru from scrutiny, while binding the disciple to them even in the face of blatant harm.

Surrender Without Safeguards

Garden recalls her own journey in the 1970s, moving between ashrams in search of enlightenment. She describes the intoxicating joy of initiation, the chants, the sense of belonging, and the ecstatic highs that felt like spiritual transformation. But once she became a guru’s favored consort, the darkness emerged. The same man who preached divine wisdom alternated between seduction and brutal rage, even physically assaulting others in her presence. At one point she became pregnant by him and he blamed her for it and forced her to have an abortion.

The culture of total surrender made resistance almost unthinkable. Cruelty was reframed as a test of faith, abuse as a blessing, and every whim of the guru as cosmic law. The environment rewarded silence and punished doubt. Those who questioned were shamed, isolated, or cast out.

How Control Works

Her experience, echoed in countless other testimonies, reveals the common mechanics of spiritual exploitation:

  • Deification of the teacher silences doubt and criticism
  • Induced dependency through mystical highs and identity fusion
  • Rationalized harm presented as discipline or “divine play”
  • Social entrapment that makes leaving a spiritual, financial, and emotional crisis

The Cost of Leaving

Breaking free meant dismantling not only her faith in the guru, but also her connection to the community, the esoteric practices, and the sense of higher purpose she had built her life around. Even after witnessing violence firsthand, many of her peers remained loyal, their belief immune to any evidence of harm.

Lessons for the Seeker

Garden’s testimony is not a blanket condemnation of spiritual practice. It is a warning: any system that demands unquestioning obedience to a single human being, no matter how radiant their smile or lofty their words, contains the seed of abuse. Without discernment and the freedom to question, devotion can slide into bondage.

In her closing words, Garden writes, “The guru-disciple relationship is probably the most authoritarian of all in its demands for surrender and obedience. Hence it can be the most destructive. Far from achieving the enlightenment and freedom that many of us ‘wannabe’ spiritual pioneers of the 1970s sought and were promised, we experienced mental imprisonment and confusion. We were seduced by yogis and swamis telling us what we wanted to hear: that we were special and that they were God incarnate. Our need was our downfall. And if we escaped, we often carried lingering doubts: Was it just me? Did I fail? Did I give up too soon?”

Source: Mary Garden, The Potential for Abuse in the Guru-Disciple Relationship, Cult Recovery 101. Read the original article here.

Yamantaka and the Truth About Violent Rituals in Tibetan Buddhism

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The following is based on Aleksandra Wenta’s article “Tantric Ritual and Conflict in Tibetan Buddhist Society: The Cult of Yamāntaka” (2022).

Public perception paints Buddhism as the ultimate religion of compassion. The Dalai Lama’s cheerful smile and monks chanting in maroon robes conjure images of peace in the Western imagination. But the historical record tells quite another story, one most Buddhist institutions would prefer to bury. Violent ritual has always had a place in Tibetan Buddhist practice, and the cult of the wrathful deity Yamantaka is one of the clearest examples.

The Deity of Destruction

Yamantaka, whose name means “Ender of Death,” is no serene Buddha. In tantric lore he is a ferocious, multi-headed, weapon-wielding deity invoked to annihilate enemies. These enemies might be inner demons in metaphor, but in many cases they were very real human targets. As Wenta’s research shows, Tibetan Buddhist ritual specialists used Yamantaka rites as deliberate acts of destruction, both spiritual and physical.

Politics and Ritual Warfare

The historical examples are difficult to dismiss. In the ninth century, the Buddhist master Gnubs chen Sangs rgyas yeshes allegedly used Yamantaka magic against King Lang Darma, a ruler seen as hostile to the Dharma. Centuries later, during the political struggles of the seventeenth century, the Fifth Dalai Lama employed Yamantaka rituals to consolidate power over rival factions. These were not fringe experiments, but state-linked religious acts intended to remove opponents.

The reach of these rites went beyond Tibet. The Manchu Qianlong emperor adopted Yamantaka worship to project legitimacy over his subjects, while Mongolian and Japanese traditions incorporated similar ritual violence into their own religious-political frameworks.

Violent Compassion as Justification

Practitioners did not see these rites as morally corrupt. They justified them through the doctrine of “violent compassion,” the belief that killing or harming could liberate an enemy from a worse rebirth. Wenta notes that tantric philosophy, particularly the doctrine of emptiness, was used to argue that concepts like killer or victim do not ultimately exist. In this logic, an enlightened being could commit an act of violence without accruing negative karma.

Ritualized Destruction

From the Mañjuśriyamūlakalpa’s “Ritual Against the Wicked Kings” comes one of the most explicit and brutal examples. The text instructs the practitioner to paint Yamantaka in terrifying form, then perform fire offerings of human blood, flesh, and powdered bone mixed with poisons and toxic plants to unleash plague, famine, storms, and demonic infestations upon the target. The king’s family is to die in sequence: son on the first day, wife and ministers on the second, the king himself on the third, while his court is overrun by flesh-eating spirits and his land struck by drought, fire from the sky, rockfall, and invasion. A human effigy bearing the victim’s birth star in cremation-ground charcoal is trampled during mantric recitation so the enemy dies, goes mad, or is devoured by demons. This is ritualized destruction in its most literal, calculated form.

One section of the same text reads like a manual for calculated devastation. The practitioner is instructed to heap human blood, flesh, powdered bone, poisons, and the roots of deadly plants onto a ritual fire in front of the painted deity. After 1008 offerings, not only is the enemy destroyed, but their family, ministers, and allies are swept away as well. The text promises droughts, plagues, famine, and storms, even fire and rocks falling from the sky, while demonic forces overrun the victim’s court. In some variations, a single datura root is enough to drive the target insane, or a few spoonfuls of spiced offerings can induce fatal fevers within days.

The text also states, “If he wants to kill someone, then having made a puppet (kṛtiṃ) he should write a name: the deity name or a nakṣatra (‘asterism under which the target was born’) using a charcoal of the cremation ground, which should be placed on the ground in front of the paṭa. Standing on [the puppet’s] head with his foot, he should be in a wrathful state, and do the recitation. He (the king) will become overpowered by a major disease, or he will die on the spot. That lord of men will be seized by piercing pains for no apparent reason, or he will be killed by an animal, or he will become crippled. He will be eaten by fierce rākṣasas, and various impure beings that have arisen from non-human birth (kravyādin), pūtanas, piśācas, pretas and the mothers, or he will be killed immediately by his own attendants.” 1

Conflict Inside the Tradition

Even within Tibetan Buddhism, the legitimacy of destructive rituals such as these was contested. Some figures, such as Rwa lo tsā ba, became famous for their wrathful practices but were denounced by peers as frauds or heretics. Reformers like Yeshes ’od tried to curtail the most extreme acts, replacing “live liberation” killings with symbolic substitutes like effigy destruction. But these reforms did not erase the underlying acceptance of ritual violence; they only tamed it for public consumption.

Another Piece of the Puzzle

Wenta’s work adds yet another piece of hard evidence to the growing pile that Tibetan Buddhism has long included practices designed to harm or destroy. These rituals were not simply metaphorical, and they were not limited to obscure sects. They were woven into the political and religious fabric of Tibet and beyond.

For those willing to look past Tibetan Buddhism’s carefully crafted PR image, the cult of Yamantaka exposes a reality in which the language of compassion hid a persistent undercurrent of deliberate harm.

Footnotes

1) Aleksandra Wenta, Tantric Ritual and Conflict in Tibetan Buddhist Society: The Cult of Yamāntaka, in Esimoncini, 19 Wenta CHIUSO, available at https://tibetanbuddhistencyclopedia.com/en/images/0/0b/Esimoncini%2C%2B19_Wenta_CHIUSO.pdf. ↩

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

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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

Perfect Possession: The Hidden Endgame of the Tantric Path?

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Catholic exorcists consistently emphasize that full demonic possession is rare. Far more common are lesser forms of demonic influence, what the Church calls degrees of demonic attack. According to experts like Fr. Gabriele Amorth and Fr. Chad Ripperger, these stages are typically identified as:

  • Temptation (ordinary spiritual warfare)
  • Infestation (demonic presence in a place or object)
  • Oppression (external hardships caused by a demon)
  • Obsession (mental or emotional torment)
  • Possession (a demon controls the body, but not the soul)
  • Perfect Possession (the soul itself has given full consent to the demonic)

What Is Perfect Possession?

Fr. Malachi Martin, Jesuit priest, Vatican insider, and exorcist, famously warned of the phenomenon he called perfect possession. This occurs not when a demon forces its way into a person, but when a human being voluntarily invites and cooperates with a demonic entity over time until the human will is no longer in conflict with the demon’s presence. In such cases, the individual may appear calm, successful, and even spiritual, but has wholly aligned his or her soul with darkness.

Martin described this as the most terrifying form of possession because there is no resistance and often, no exorcism possible. The person has handed over consent of the will, and the demon resides not only in the body but in the soul.

This is not the ugly, contorted possession made famous by Hollywood. This is a quieter form of coexistence.

Possession Among the Occult Elite

Catholic exorcists often connect perfect possession to satanic priests, high-level occultists, or individuals who have undergone ritual consecration to Lucifer. It is the end point of a spiritual trajectory, not a single moment of sin. It involves years of voluntary cooperation with evil using ritual invocation, blood pacts, and blasphemous imitation of the sacraments.

But there is more discrete path that leads to the same end. It is cloaked in lotus flower imagery, Sanskrit mantras, and spiritual “blessings,” and is propagated by tantric adepts, yogis, and mahasiddhas who have spent years practicing yoga and ritual invocation of beings they consider to be deities.

Is Perfect Possession the Hidden Goal of Tantra?

In the Tibetan Vajrayana tradition, called “the quick path to enlightenment,” tantric practitioners visualize themselves as the deity. They merge consciousness with the god, goddess, or guru, often through esoteric or sexual ritual, in pursuit of realization.

But what if these “deities” are not who they claim to be?

What if they are counterfeit spirits or demonic intelligences disguised as beneficent beings of light?

In that case, the tantric adept is inviting an entity to live within him, again and again, through ritual, offerings, and mental surrender. Over time, the boundary between the self and the invoked being dissolves.

This is a form of spiritual possession.

And if the person no longer resists, if they call this possession “enlightenment,” then it seems to meet the classical definition of perfect possession or possession of the soul.

Signs of Perfect Possession in the Tantric World

Unlike Hollywood portrayals, the perfectly possessed do not foam at the mouth or speak in guttural Latin. Instead, they:

  • Radiate serenity, even as they worship gods of wrath and destruction
  • Exhibit supernatural knowledge or powers (siddhis), which are praised, not feared
  • Express total identification with the spirit/s they invoke
  • Are untouchable by traditional exorcism, because they do not want to be freed

In Catholic understanding, this is the most dangerous state of all because it involves no inner conflict, and therefore no pathway to repentance. The soul lives in union with a demon, often under the delusion that it is serving the good.

Satan Appears as an Angel of Light

Scripture warns us:
“And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.” – 2 Corinthians 11:14

What better disguise than that of a esoteric deity offering long life, healing, spiritual bliss, and enlightenment?

Exorcists like Fr. Amorth and Fr. Martin remind us that total possession doesn’t happen by accident. Satan must be invited in. And perfect possession is the result of spiritual consent, repeated and ritualized over time.

Tantric practitioners may never use the language of possession. They may call it “liberation,” “non-duality,” or “union with the deity.”

But from the standpoint of Christian spiritual warfare, it is not liberation but captivity, sanctified and made beautiful. It is a demonic entity, ethereally robed and seated on lotus thrones, perfectly at home in the human soul. And it leaves the adept deeply indebted to demons.

The Illusion of Harmony: How Eastern Mysticism Misleads Christian Seekers

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In today’s spiritual landscape, a troubling trend is emerging: well-meaning Christians are being led to believe that Tibetan Buddhism is not only compatible with Christianity but can even enhance it. This deception, often subtle and clothed in the language of “contemplation” or “interfaith dialogue,” has found its way into Catholic monasteries and retreat centers. At the heart of this distortion is the adoption of Eastern meditative techniques, often inspired by Tibetan Buddhist practices, and the uncritical embrace of yoga as a “neutral” spiritual discipline.

To be clear: Tibetan Buddhism is not a Christian cousin. It is a profoundly different worldview, rooted in concepts like reincarnation, karma, and the ultimate dissolution of the self, doctrines wholly incompatible with Christianity’s vision of a personal, relational God and the eternal dignity of the soul.

Meditation or Manipulation?

The Christian tradition has long held a deep respect for silence, prayer, and contemplation, especially in the monastic practices of the Desert Fathers or the Hesychast tradition of Eastern Orthodoxy. But what is often marketed today as “meditation” bears little resemblance to Christian prayer. Tibetan Buddhism aims at the realization that the self and all phenomena are empty of inherent existence, a direct experience of emptiness (śūnyatā) and the luminous, non-dual nature of awareness.

This goal is diametrically opposed to Christian theology, which insists on the uniqueness of each soul, created in the image of God and destined for eternal communion with Him.

Yet Christian leaders and institutions have increasingly opened the door to these teachings. For example, the late Father Thomas Keating, one of the leaders of the Centering Prayer movement, drew heavily on Eastern techniques, often blurring the line between Christian contemplation and Buddhist meditation. Though his intentions were no doubt sincere, the result was a confusing blend of incompatible truths.

Another case is Father Richard Rohr, a popular Franciscan whose teachings often echo non-dual philosophies far closer to Eastern mysticism than to historic Christianity. Rohr’s discussions of “Christ-consciousness” and the illusion of the separate self bear striking resemblance to Tibetan Buddhist views, yet they are consumed by many Catholics and Protestants as if they are orthodox.

The Yoga Trap

Yoga is another Trojan horse in the spiritual lives of many Christians. Despite its spiritual roots in Hindu and Buddhist traditions, yoga is often presented as a harmless or purely physical practice. In truth, yoga’s asanas (postures) were designed not for exercise, but as physical preparations for meditation and kundalini awakening, specifically, awakening to a worldview that denies the personal God revealed in Jesus Christ.

When Christians engage in yoga or Tibetan-inspired meditation without discernment, they open themselves up not just to foreign practices, but to foreign spirits. This is not religious paranoia but a spiritual reality. St. Paul warned the Corinthians about participating in pagan rituals, saying, “You cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons” (1 Corinthians 10:21).

The Deception of Compatibility

Tibetan Buddhist teachers are often happy to affirm Christian practices, so long as they are reinterpreted through a Buddhist lens. Some even encourage Christians to see Jesus as an “enlightened teacher” or “bodhisattva.” This allows the surface appearance of interfaith respect while subtly undermining core Christian claims: the Incarnation, the Resurrection, and the uniqueness of Christ as Savior.

This is not compatibility, but syncretism and it poses a spiritual danger.

A Call to Discernment

This is not to instill hostility or fear of Buddhism and other Eastern Religions. Nor is it a rejection of silence, stillness, and physical well-being. But Christians must recover the spiritual discipline of discernment. Not all that brings peace is from God. The Enemy is more than capable of offering counterfeit serenity, especially when it draws people away from the Cross and toward self-deification or belief in idols.

Christianity offers its own deep, mystical tradition rooted not in esoteric techniques or mantras, but in personal relationship with the living God. Prayer, asceticism, sacramental life, and union with Christ are more than sufficient for those seeking transformation. We do not need to import Tibetan concepts or yogic practices to find God. He is already here, knocking at the door.

The growing blend of Tibetan Buddhism and Christianity may feel harmonious on the surface, but this is illusory. At its core, the Gospel is not compatible with systems that deny Christ’s divinity, the soul’s eternal destiny, or the Triune God. As Christians, we must not be seduced by exotic forms of “spirituality” that utilize half-truths, and communion with fallen angels.

Kali and Vajrayoginī: A Biblical Perspective

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In both Hindu and Buddhist tantric traditions, Kali and Vajrayoginī stand as iconic figures of immense power. Wrathful, seductive, and liberating, they are revered as goddesses who destroy ignorance and ego, leading practitioners to freedom through terrifying grace. They drink blood, wear garlands of skulls, and dance on corpses. These are not symbols for the faint of heart.

Kali, in Hinduism, is the goddess of time and death. She is the dark mother who slays demons, severs illusion, and devours ego. Vajrayoginī, in Vajrayāna Buddhism, is a female buddha who leads devotees to enlightenment through the annihilation of dualistic perception, often through erotic and wrathful means.

Today, many feminists embrace these goddesses as symbols of female empowerment, strength, and liberation from patriarchal religion. But this overlooks the possibility that these figures, far from celebrating womanhood, may actually represent a deep spiritual hostility toward it. The ego-annihilation they demand may not be empowering at all, but destructive, both spiritually and psychologically. When viewed through a biblical lens, one must consider whether these so-called icons of empowerment are in fact hostile agents cloaked in feminine form. From a biblical worldview, who are they really?

Fallen Beings or Demonic Entities

If we take the Bible as the sole and literal authority:

  • There is one true God (YHWH), and worship is due to Him alone.
  • Any supernatural beings outside of YHWH and His angels fall under:
    • Idols (Psalm 96:5 – “For all the gods of the nations are idols”)
    • Deceiving spirits or demons (1 Corinthians 10:20 – “The sacrifices of pagans are offered to demons, not to God.”)

From this view:

DeityBiblical Interpretation
KaliA manifestation of a demonic spirit that seduces worshippers through fear and false power
VajrayoginīA spirit of deception using mystical allure to imitate divine enlightenment

Why They’re Considered Dangerous

1. They Accept Worship Not Meant for Them

  • Worship of any being other than the God of Israel is strictly forbidden. (Exodus 20:3 – “You shall have no other gods before Me.”)
  • Revering supernatural powers outside of God constitutes rebellion and idolatry.

2. They Promote False Teachings

3. They Offer Counterfeit Spiritual Power

  • These goddesses can induce real mystical experiences through the occult third eye, but from a biblical view, such power is not from God.
  • They mimic light and transcendence, offering access to preternatural realms that ensnare souls in spiritual bondage.

Biblical Warnings Relevant to These Figures

  • 2 Corinthians 11:14 – “Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.”
  • Deuteronomy 13:1–3 – Even if a sign or wonder comes to pass, if it leads you to follow other gods, it is a test from the Lord.
  • Revelation 9:20 – Condemns worship of “idols of gold and silver… which cannot see or hear or walk.”

Summary (from a Biblical Lens)

Kali and Vajrayoginī are not misunderstood archetypes or symbolic feminine faces of divine truth. From a biblical standpoint, they are false gods or fallen spirits who lure seekers through mysticism, ecstasy, and power into worship that ultimately defies the true and living God.

Their powers are spiritual deceptions, designed to mimic enlightenment while leading souls away from salvation and the truth of Jesus Christ.

To those recovering from tantric abuse or deception: the biblical path does not deny spiritual reality, it affirms that spiritual warfare is real, and that freedom is found in Christ alone, not through altered states, or the worship of seductive wrathful or peaceful goddesses, or any other small “g” god for that matter.

You shall have no other gods before Me.” — Exodus 20:3