Preface

I worship in my heart the Goddess

whose body is awash with ambrosia,

beautiful like lightning, who, going from her abode

to Shiva’s royal palace, opens the lotuses

of the lovely axial channel (sushumnā).

—Bhairavī-Stotra (12)

Tantra has become a household word in certain circles in the West. But, as is often the case with household words, popularity does not necessarily imply understanding. Frequently we hear words like consciousness, holistic, creativity, or imagination, but how many people could give an intelligent explanation of any of these? Similarly, Tantra has captured the fascination of a good many Westerners, but few of them actually know what it stands for, including some of those who profess to practice, teach, or write about it.

Tantra, or Tantrism, is an exceptionally ramified and complex esoteric tradition of Indic origin. It made its appearance around 500 CE, though some of its proponents claim a far longer history. Tantralike ideas and practices can indeed be found in traditions and teachings of a much earlier era. As a full-fledged movement or cultural style extending over both Hinduism and Buddhism, however, Tantra seems to have originated around the middle of the first millennium CE. It reached maturity around 1000 CE in the philosophical school of Abhinava Gupta. It profoundly influenced the outlook and practices of many non-Tantric traditions, such as Vedānta. Often practitioners of those traditions have been unaware of that influence and might even be offended at the suggestion that they engage in typically Tantric practices.

The reason for this is that within the fold of Hinduism, Tantra gradually fell into disrepute because of the radical antinomian practices of some of its adherents. During the Victorian colonization of India, puritanism drove Tantric practitioners underground. Today Tantra survives mainly in the conservative (samaya) molds of the Shrī-Vidyā tradition of South India and the Buddhist tradition of Tibet, though both heritages also have their more radical practitioners who understandably prefer to stay out of the public limelight. Particularly Tibetan Vajrayāna has become increasingly popular in the West, and it is relatively easy to receive initiation and instruction in this form of Tantra.

From the beginning, Tantra understood itself as a new age teaching especially tailored for the needs of the kali-yuga, the era of spiritual decline that is still in progress today. According to Herbert V. Guenther, a renowned scholar of Buddhism, the Tantras—the scriptures of Tantrism—contain a very sound and healthy view of life.¹ His implied point, that the Tantric view is valid and pertinent even today, matches the appraisal of other Western scholars and students of Tantra. Robert Beer, a color-blind British painter of beautiful, richly colored thankas, remarked that the psychological core of the numerous Tantric legends has a universal appeal and application that transcends culture, religion, and race.² I would go further and say that many facets of Tantric psychology and practice are relevant to all who seek to cultivate self-understanding and are sincerely engaged in the noble task of spiritual self-transformation.

From the outset, Tantra has straddled both Hinduism and Buddhism, and Tantra-style teachings can be found even in the Indic minority religion of Jainism. Hindu Tantra, which I will somewhat arbitrarily call Tantra Yoga to distinguish it from the Buddhist and Jaina varieties, was introduced to the Western world through the writings of Sir John Woodroffe. His English rendering of the famous Mahānirvāna-Tantra was published in 1913 and was followed a few years later by his books Shakti and Shākta and The Serpent Power.³ At that time it was still considered odious for a scholar to study the Tantric tradition, which was deemed the most decadent manifestation of Hindu culture. Woodroffe, a high-court judge in Calcutta, broke all the rules when he put on Indian garb and sat at the feet of Hindu pundits well versed in Tantra. As he once said:

I have often been asked why I had undertaken the study of the Tantra Śāstra, and in some English (as opposed to Continental) quarters it has been suggested that my time and labour might be more worthily employed. One answer is this: Following the track of unmeasured abuse I have always found something good. The present case is no exception. I protest and have always protested against unjust aspersions upon the Civilization of India and its peoples. . . . I found that the Śāstra was of high importance in the history of Indian religion. The Tantra Śāstra or Āgama is not, as some seem to suppose, a petty Śāstra of no account; one, and an unimportant sample, of the multitudinous manifestations of religion in a country which swarms with every form of religious sect. It is on the contrary with Veda, Smṛti and Purāṇa one of the foremost important Śāstras in India, governing, in various degrees and ways, the temple and household ritual of the whole of India today and for centuries past. . . . Over and above the fact that the Śāstra is an historical fact, it possesses, in some respects, an intrinsic value which justifies its study. Thus it is the storehouse of Indian occultism. This occult side of the Tantras is of scientific importance, the more particularly having regard to the present revived interest in occultist study in the West.⁴

These words, written eight decades ago, are relevant today for the same reasons.⁵ In the succeeding years a few other Western scholars, for the most part still feeling apologetic about their research, have followed in the footsteps of this intrepid pioneer. Even today, however, Hindu Tantra Yoga is only poorly researched, and most of its high teachings, which require direct experience or at least the explanations of an initiate, remain unlocked.

The situation is strikingly different with the teachings of Buddhist Tantra, in the form of the Tibetan tradition of Vajrayāna (Diamond Vehicle). Ever since the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1950 and particularly since the escape of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in 1959, Tibetan lamas have been generously teaching and initiating Western practitioners into all schools and levels of Vajrayāna Buddhism. To preserve their teachings in exile, many high lamas have consented to work closely with Western scholars on accurate translations of the Tibetan Tantras and on explanatory monographs. Today, therefore, the Buddhist branch of Tantrism is not only more widely disseminated than the Hindu branch but also better understood in the West than its Hindu counterpart.

The many excellent books on Buddhist Tantra give one a real appreciation of the tremendous sophistication of this tradition.⁶ Good works on Hindu Tantra Yoga, however, are few, and the books by Woodroffe, though dated and incorrect in places, are still exemplary in many respects. The Hindus never had the kind of extensive monastic tradition of learning and practice that characterizes the Buddhists, particularly the Tibetan Gelugpa school. It is difficult (though not impossible) to find a Hindu Tantric adept who not only has mastered the practical dimension of Tantra Yoga but also can talk knowledgeably about the theoretical aspects. Western scholars are therefore naturally drawn to the study of Buddhist Tantra. A notable exception was the late Swami Lakshmanjoo (1907–94), an adept and master expounder of the Kaula tradition of Kashmir, who inspired many Western scholars and Hindu pundits.⁷ Many of Swami Lakshmanjoo’s disciples think of him as the reincarnation of the famous tenth-century adept and scholar Abhinava Gupta.

Swami Lakshmanjoo (1907–94), a master of both the theoretical and practical dimensions of Hindu Tantra. (Photograph by John Hughes © copyright Kashmir Shaivism Fellowship)

The paucity of research and publications on the Tantric heritage of Hinduism has in recent years made room for a whole crop of ill-informed popular books on what I have called Neo-Tantrism.⁸ Their reductionism is so extreme that a true initiate would barely recognize the Tantric heritage in these writings. The most common distortion is to present Tantra Yoga as a mere discipline of ritualized or sacred sex. In the popular mind, Tantra has become equivalent to sex. Nothing could be farther from the truth!

I have looked at a number of these popular books on what one well-known Tibetan lama once jokingly referred to as California Tantra. One time I even sat through half of a thoroughly uninspiring and essentially pornographic video presentation on Neo-Tantrism. In each case I was left with the overwhelming impression that these Neo-Tantric publications are based on a profound misunderstanding of the Tantric path. Their main error is to confuse Tantric bliss (ānanda, mahā-sukha) with ordinary orgasmic pleasure. Indeed, the words pleasure and fun are prominent catchphrases in the Neo-Tantric literature. These publications may conceivably be helpful to people looking for a more fulfilling or entertaining sex life, but they are in most cases far removed from the true spirit of Tantra. In this sense they are sadly misleading, for instead of awakening a person’s impulse to attain enlightenment for the benefit of all beings, they tend to foster narcissism, self-delusion, and false hopes.

There is a growing need for more faithful portrayals of the philosophy and practice of genuine Hindu Tantra, and the present volume seeks to respond to this need. My presentation is chiefly based on my research into the original scriptures of Hindu Tantra and secondarily on my personal experience with Yoga over a period of thirty-five years. Secondarily, I am basing my presentation on my study and practice of Vajrayāna Buddhism since 1993. My approach is meant to be sympathetic rather than objective and detached. In writing about those many areas of which I have no personal experience, I have relied on the testimony of the Tantric scriptures, the available scholarly literature, and the explanations of advanced practitioners.

Although there are many differences between Hindu and Buddhist Tantra, I believe there are also numerous commonalities that help students of one tradition gain understanding of the other. Hence, where necessary or useful, I have freely drawn on my knowledge of Buddhist Tantra to present Hindu Tantra Yoga in a more faithful and interesting way. I have, however, made no attempt in this book to cover Buddhist Tantra or even compare this branch of Tantra with the Hindu variety.

I believe that it is possible to write with adequate fidelity an introductory volume about Tantra without having attained adeptship on the Tantric path. One does not have to be an electronic engineer to accurately describe the parts and functions of a computer to another lay person, providing one has done one’s homework. In fact, a lay person may do a much better descriptive job than a professional engineer, who is apt to focus on the arcane details of his or her expertise, or who simply may not be a skillful communicator. When it comes to furnishing accurate instructions for building a computer from scratch, however, much more profound knowledge is required than should be expected from a lay person.

I see my task as being mostly descriptive and occasionally evaluative, but definitely not as being prescriptive. In other words, the present volume is not a manual for Tantric practice. The conceptual universe of Tantra is vastly more detailed than can possibly be conveyed in a book such as this, which is intended for the lay reader. I cannot even claim to have covered all the major ideas and practices. For instance, the chapter on subtle anatomy (i.e., the cakras and nādīs) could easily be expanded into a whole book. Likewise, the section on the serpent power (kundalinī-shakti) could just as readily be developed into a hefty volume. Nor have I mentioned all the branches, schools, or approaches of Tantra, partly because many of them are still only poorly understood in themselves and in their relationship to each other and partly because I did not want to burden this introduction with materials more suitable for an academic monograph. Thus I have refrained from going into great detail about Hatha Yoga, which also is a Tantric tradition and which I plan to write about separately. Space constraints also obliged me to confine myself to just a few mythological stories and biographical details about some of the great adepts. I hope that one day, in the not-too-distant future, a comprehensive overview of the philosophy, literature, history, and practice of Tantra will be published, and I am sure this will have to be based on the combined effort of a number of experts on the subject.

In contrast to one widely read book on Neo-Tantrism, I do not claim that this—or indeed any—book on Tantra Yoga, or Yoga in general, could possibly replace the teacher, initiation, and spiritual transmission process. Success on the Tantric path most certainly requires initiation at the hand of a qualified teacher and many years of intensive personal practice. Without guidance, proper initiation, and total commitment, practitioners of Tantra Yoga risk their sanity and health. The numerous warnings in the traditional scriptures are not merely rhetorical, and the dangers they describe are certainly not exaggerated. Tantra Yoga, as not a few scriptures emphasize, is indeed a dangerous path that leads fools into greater bondage and only wise practitioners to freedom and bliss. It is no accident that true Tantric practitioners are called heroes (vīra), because they must navigate in treacherous waters that demand constant vigilance and great inner strength.

There is no reason why genuine spiritual seekers in the Western hemisphere should not achieve adeptship in Tantra Yoga, and some have in fact done so. But in each case, the fulfillment of the spiritual path is preceded by hard work on oneself. There are no shortcuts, and the quest for quick fixes and weekend enlightenment is merely one of the symptoms of the kali-yuga, governed by delusion and greed.

Tantra is a highly complex tradition. Even an introductory book such as the present one will therefore contain much that requires thoughtful reading. This volume is certainly more demanding than its companion, The Shambhala Guide to Yoga.⁹ For newcomers to Yoga, I recommend reading the latter work first before turning to the more demanding subject of Tantra.

If the present book can help remove the worst popular misconceptions about Tantra Yoga and thus clear the way to fruitful spiritual practice, Tantric or otherwise, it will have fulfilled its purpose.

It remains for me to thank several people who have helped give this book material shape: my publisher Samuel Bercholz and my editor Peter Turner for their vision and commitment to excellence, Larry Hamberlin for his judicious copyediting, Ron Suresha for ably guiding the manuscript through the editorial process, as well as the other helpful spirits at Shambhala Publications for their part in the birthing process; Glen Hayes, Michael Magee, Swami Atmarupananda, and Douglas Renfrew Brooks for readily responding to my questions and requests; David Gordon White and Christopher Chapple for their valuable comments on the manuscript; and James Rhea and Margo Gal for allowing me to use some of their drawings.

Introduction

  Tantra, the Great Spiritual Synthesis

The thousands of evils arising from one’s birth can be removed by means of practice.

—Matsyendra-Samhitā (7.20a)

Definitions

Tantra is a Sanskrit word that, like the term yoga, has many distinct but basically related meanings. At the most mundane level, it denotes web or woof. It derives from the verbal root tan, meaning to expand. This root also yields the word tantu (thread or cord).¹ Whereas a thread is something that is extensive, a web suggests expansion. Tantra can also stand for system, ritual, doctrine, and compendium. According to esoteric explanations, tantra is that which expands jnāna, which can mean either knowledge or wisdom. The late Agehananda Bharati, an Austrian-born professor of anthropology at Syracuse University and a monk of the Dashanāmi order, argued that only knowledge can be expanded, not the immutable wisdom.² But this is not entirely correct. Wisdom, though coessential with Reality and therefore perennial, can be expanded in the sense of informing the spiritual practitioner more and more. This process is like placing a sponge in a shallow pool of water. It gradually soaks up the water and becomes completely suffused with moisture. Thus while wisdom is always the same, it can also, paradoxically, grow inside a person. Or, to put it differently, a person can grow to reflect more and more of the eternal wisdom.

But tantra is also the expansive, all-encompassing Reality revealed by wisdom. As such it stands for continuum, the seamless whole that comprises both transcendence and immanence, Reality and reality, Being and becoming, Consciousness and mental consciousness, Infinity and finitude, Spirit and matter, Transcendence and immanence, or, in Sanskrit terminology, nirvāna and samsāra, or brahman and jagat. Here the words samsāra and jagat stand for the familiar world of flux that we experience through our senses.

Historically, tantra denotes a particular style or genre of spiritual teachings beginning to achieve prominence in India about fifteen hundred years ago—teachings that affirm the continuity between Spirit and matter. The word also signifies a scripture in which such teachings are revealed. By extension, the term is often applied to textbooks or manuals in general. Tradition speaks of 64 Tantras, though as with the 108 Upanishads this is an ideal figure that does not reflect historical reality. We know of many more Tantras, though few of them have survived the ravages of time.³

A practitioner of Tantra is called a sādhaka (if male) or a sādhikā (if female). Other expressions are tāntrika or tantra-yogin (if male) and tantra-yoginī (if female). An adept of the Tantric path is typically known as a siddha (accomplished one, from sidh, meaning to be accomplished or to attain) or mahā-siddha (greatly accomplished one, that is, a great adept). The female adept is called siddha-anganā (woman adept, from anga, meaning limb or part). The Tantric path itself is frequently referred to as sādhana or sādhanā (from the same verbal root as siddha), and the spiritual achievement of this path is called siddhi (having the dual meaning of perfection and powerful accomplishment). Siddhi can refer either to the spiritual attainment of liberation, or enlightenment, or to the extraordinary powers or paranormal abilities ascribed to Tantric masters as a result of enlightenment or by virtue of mastery of the advanced stages of concentration. A Tantric preceptor, whether he or she is enlightened or not, is called either an ācārya (conductor, which is related to ācāra, way of life) or a guru (weighty one).

Chinnamastā, whose severed head symbolizes the transcendence of the body through Tantra. (Illustration by Margo Gal)

Tantra: A Teaching for the Dark Age

Tantra understands itself as a gospel for the new age of darkness, the kali-yuga. According to the Hindu worldview, history unfolds in a cyclical pattern that proceeds from a golden age to world ages of progressive spiritual decline, and then back to an era of light and plenty. These ages are called yugas (yokes), presumably because they fasten beings to the wheel of time (kāla-cakra), the flux of conditioned existence. There are four such yugas, which repeat themselves over and over again, all the while maturing all beings, but especially human beings. The scriptures speak of this developmental process as cooking. The four world ages, in order, are:

1. The satya-yuga, in which truth (satya) reigns supreme, and which is also known as krita-yuga because everything in it is well made (krita)

2. The tretā-yuga, in which truth and virtue are somewhat diminished

3. The dvāpara-yuga, in which truth and virtue are further diminished

4. The kali-yuga, which is marked by ignorance, delusion, and greed

These correspond to the four ages known in classical Greece and ancient Persia. Significantly, the Sanskrit names of the four world ages derive from dice playing, a favorite pastime of Indic humanity ever since Vedic times. The Rig-Veda, which is at least five thousand years old, has a hymn (10.34) that has been dubbed Gambler’s Lament because its composer talks poetically of his addiction to gambling. Of the dice he says that handless, they master him who has hands, causing loss, shame, and grief. The Bharata war, chronicled in the Mahābhārata epic, was the ill-gotten fruit of gambling, for Yudhishthira lost his entire kingdom to his wicked cousin Duryodhana with the throw of a die.

Krita signifies the lucky or well-made throw, dvāpara (deuce) a throw of two points, tretā (trey) a throw of three points, and kali (from the verbal root kal, to impel) the total loss, indicated by a single point on the die. The word kali is not, as is often thought, the same as the name of the well-known goddess Kālī.⁴ However, since Kālī symbolizes both time and destruction, it does not seem farfetched to connect her specifically with the kali-yuga, though of course she is deemed to govern all spans and modes of time.

The Tantras describe the first, golden age as an era of material and spiritual plenty. According to the Mahānirvāna-Tantra (1.20–29), people were wise and virtuous and pleased the deities and forefathers by their practice of Yoga and sacrificial rituals. By means of their study of the Vedas, meditation, austerities, mastery of the senses, and charitable deeds, they acquired great fortitude and power. Even though mortal, they were like the deities (deva). The rulers were high minded and ever concerned with protecting the people entrusted to them, while among the ordinary people there were no thieves, liars, fools, or gluttons. Nobody was selfish, envious, or lustful. The favorable psychology of the people was reflected outwardly in land producing all kinds of grain in plenty, cows yielding abundant milk, trees laden with fruits, and ample seasonable rains fertilizing all vegetation. There was neither famine nor sickness, nor untimely death. People were good-hearted, happy, beautiful, and prosperous. Society was well ordered and peaceful.

In the next world age, the tretā-yuga, people lost their inner peace and became incapable of applying the Vedic rituals properly, yet clung to them anxiously. Out of pity, the god Shiva brought helpful traditions (smriti) into the world, by which the ancient teachings could be better understood and practiced.

But humanity was set on a worsening course, which became obvious in the third world age. People abandoned the methods prescribed in the Smritis, and thereby only magnified their perplexity and suffering. Their physical and emotional illnesses increased, and as the Mahānirvāna-Tantra insists, they lost half of the divinely appointed law (dharma). Again Shiva intervened by making the teachings of the Samhitas and other religious scriptures available.

With the rise of the fourth world age, the kali-yuga, all of the divinely appointed law was lost. Many Hindus believe that the kaliyuga was ushered in at the time of the death of the god-man Krishna, who is said to have left this earth in 3102 BCE at the end of the famous Bhārata war. There is no archaeological evidence for this date, and it is probable that Krishna lived much later, but this is relatively unimportant for the present consideration.⁵ What matters, however, is that most traditional authorities consider the kali-yuga to be still very much in progress.⁶ In fact, according to Hindu computations, we are only in the opening phase of this dark world age, which is believed to have a total span of 360,000 years.⁷ Thus from a Hindu perspective, the current talk in certain Western circles of a promising new age—the Age of Aquarius—is misguided. At best, this is a mini-cycle of self-deception leading to false optimism and complacency, followed by worsening conditions. This is in fact what some Western critics of the New Age movement have suggested as well. Other critics have argued, conversely, that the Hindu model of cyclical time is unrealistic and outdated.

Whatever the truth of this matter may be, the Tantras emphasize that their teachings are designed for spiritual seekers trapped in the dark age, which is in effect today. This is how the Mahānirvāna-Tantra (1.36–42), in the prophetic words of the Goddess, describes the current world age:

With the sinful kali[-yuga] in progress, in which all law is destroyed and which abounds with evil ways and evil phenomena, and gives rise to evil activities,

then the Vedas become inefficient, to say nothing of remembering the Smritis. And the many Purānas containing various stories and showing the many ways [to liberation]

will be destroyed, O Lord. Then people will turn away from virtuous action

and become habitually unrestrained, mad with pride, fond of evil deeds, lustful, confused, cruel, rude, scurrilous, deceitful,

short-lived, dull-witted, troubled by sickness and grief, ugly, weak, vile, attached to vile behavior,

fond of vile company, and stealers of other’s money. They become rogues who are intent on blaming, slandering, and injuring others

and who feel no reluctance, sin, or fear in seducing the wife of another. They become destitute, filthy, wretched beggars who are sick from their vagrancy.

The Mahānirvāna-Tantra continues its description of the dreariness of the kali-yuga by saying that even the brahmins become degenerate and perform their religious practices mainly to dupe the people. Thus the custodians of the law (dharma) merely contribute to the destruction of the sacred tradition and the moral order. The Tantra next reiterates that Shiva revealed the Tantric teachings to stem the tide of history and correct this tragic situation. The masters of Tantra are profoundly optimistic.

The Radical Approach of Tantra

The adepts of Tantra believe that it is possible to attain liberation, or enlightenment, even in the worst social and moral conditions. They also believe, however, that the traditional means devised or revealed in previous world ages are no longer useful or optimal, for those means were designed for people of far greater spiritual and moral stamina who lived in a more peaceful environment conducive to inner growth. The present age of darkness has innumerable obstacles that make spiritual maturation exceedingly difficult. Therefore more drastic measures are needed: the Tantric methodology.

What is so special about the Tantric teachings that they should serve the spiritual needs of the dark age better than all other approaches? In many ways, the Tantric methods are similar to non-Tantric practices. What is strikingly different about them is their inclusiveness and the radical attitude with which they are pursued. A desperate person will grasp for a straw, and seekers in the kali-yuga are, or should be, desperate. From the vantage point of a spiritual heritage extending over several thousand years, the Tantric masters at the beginning of the common era realized that the dark age calls for especially powerful techniques to break through lethargy, resistance, and attachment to conventional relationships and worldly things, as well as to deal with the lack of understanding. Looking at the available means handed down from teacher to student through countless generations, they acknowledged that these required a purity and nobility of character that people of the dark age no longer possess. To help humanity in the kali-yuga, the Tantric adepts modified the old teachings and created a new repertoire of practices. Their orientation can be summed up in two words: Anything goes. Or, at least, almost anything.

The Tantric masters even sanctioned practices that are considered