Diary of a Mystic: The Tiger


Good meditation today. I managed to throat sing and chant with a far deeper resonance and endurance than I have done for well over a week. Produced some truly majestic sounding overtones, and still feel as though my understanding of the mechanics of the production of these frequencies is growing ever deeper and unconscious. Chinese chanting, and  Tuvan chanting too.

I used Tara’s Mantra, and the tantric technique of imagining myself with her female body, allowing great cosmic energy to penetrate my vagina. Worked on bringing this energy into all my chakras, and especially the energy channels along my spinal column which I still feel especially need more work.

I saw a stripped tiger. In China, the Tiger is a symbol of autumn, whiteness, the lungs, decay and death. It is the protector of the West, and it’s element is metal. This metal is the alloy of transformation. Like a mineral, it can be manipulated through fire, purified, and then eventually solidified into something else. It is the element of deep and lasting change, as opposed to something fleeting and ephemeral that can easily snap back to its habituations.

In Chinese astrology, the tiger is also representative of Aquarius. Thus, he is gregarious, powerful, innovate, eccentric yet sometimes conservative, lively yet sometimes reckless and impulsive, and also, quite often, promiscuous.

The symbolism of the tiger is said to be based in anger, aggression, personal power, strength and vitality, as well as representing the sudden, swift, and unpredictable. Given our closeness to entering into Aries, I think it is a good warning to channel that fiery strength in a positive way, and not to be allow it to make you destructive. Arians have a lot of personal power, but can be very quick to anger and conflict. It is a warning to keep that power under wraps, so that I control it, without it ever defeating me. Using my personal power in the most beneficial way. Being spontaneous as opposed to being impulsive. Being prepared for the unexpected – but also acting in a sudden and unpredictable way, so as to overcome others.

The bear also made another appearance, but we already explored his symbolism recently – solitary and withdrawing. Both of these creatures are loners by nature (I think) so perhaps it is an encouragement to enjoy being single and going it alone? The appearance of the ant recently was certainly very significant, as I have been very productive and industrious these last few days, able to be quite persevering, unemotional and prolific.


Wrathful Deity Channeled – The Shaman’s Power


Sat down to meditate. Prayed and invoked a lot of different deities. I used Tara’s mantra, and visualized myself as one of her wrathful aspects, holding a lotus flower containing a spinning dharma wheel, seated on a moon disk in a lotus flower, Amitabha on my crown, and surrounded by a coronal wreath of fire.

As the feeling stabilized, I focused on her feminine attributes, channelling powerful energy through my imaginal vagina, and expanding my breasts to feed all the living, visualizing myself in consort with an appropriate male partner, and then switching it around, so that I was also the male, with a Vajravetali like figure.  Indestructible corpse – what a beautiful name! Channelling the whirling energy between us up through our crowns and out of the head into a womb of power above.

The channelled chanting starts quite early, barely ten minutes into the meditation – possibly the quickest arising yet. It is a short, repetitive mantra, most likely Tibetan, and, at first, starts out in just a muttered whisper, before gradually building in volume as the energetic sensations arise with it. It is easily the most demonstrably wrathful spirit I have ever channeled – my body swings, writhes and contorts rhythmically and pendulously with intensity and purpose, stretching and adapting my body in all sorts of unusual ways. No doubt, a fool would consider such an experience to be demonic possession, instead of a powerful, yet volatile, healing and awakening. It latter switches to a secondary mantra, which also sounds Tibetan. In general, the performance my body gives reminds me a lot of the dancing engaged in by the Tibetan oracles, who also rely mostly on wrathful deities for oracles, particularly Yamantaka.

The visions are of many wrathful spirits, definitely Yamantaka, and other blue, flaming, horned beings, possibly Sipe Gyalmo (who I invoked) and other Bon deities. At one point, I can feel these horns growing out of my head, and see a multiplicity of Yamantakas dancing upon the hazardous peaks of the Himalayas, raging with joy and power.

It feels like a definite Kundalini experience. There is a huge onrush of energy flowing through my lower three chakras, particularly my root and sexual chakras. I have not felt such a surge of sexual and Shakti prana for quite a long time – I don’t think any of them have ever been quite as intense, yet purely channeled, as this. It rises up into my imaginary womb, hopefully helping to burn away the karmic traces of sadness and grief that have become trapped there.

It strikes me that one of the reason the Vajrayana and Dzogchen traditions of Tibet are so powerful is because, though Buddhist, they are still essentially shamanistic in nature. Most of the Shamanistic traditions in the world have been utterly slaughtered, forgotten, or destroyed. Yet, the Bon and Buddhist traditions of Tibet are still being amazingly preserved and practiced to this day; and, with every passing day, more and more of its powerful, ancient secrets are being revealed and shared with the world at large. It is the greatest, greatest of gifts.

The reason it is so powerful is because of this dynamic coupling of the carefully codified wisdom and compassion of the Buddha Dharma, mingled with the natural, mystical, ritualized wildness of the Shamanistic Bon religion, tamed and wielded to perfection by Padmasambhava. Shamanism is always so powerful because it taps directly, and spontaneously, into the most powerful and ancestral of energies, without any remote requirement for intellectualism or even understanding. The shaman can do a lot of what he does simply because he does not understand, or even need to, in order to do it. Such a state of affairs is a puzzle to the ignorant, Western mind, which feels like it needs to grasp, explain, and intellectually reduce everything, before it can finally accept it and make use of it; rejecting everything that is misunderstood, even if it clearly and demonstrably works.

Of course, the shaman’s Way is not for everyone. It require complete grounding, courage, and fearlessness – the willingness to become repeatedly insane on a regular basis. Fortunately, for me, I have longed for insanity ever since I was a child, and so am perfectly suited to the role – especially as it is one that I have taken on in many, many lives. I am so grateful to have this part of myself reawakened, and look forward to sharing it with the rest of the world, to the benefit of all.



Diary of a Mystic: Buddha Lands


After reading a book on Tara’s Enlightened Qualities, I was inspired to refine my practice, making three prostrations, taking refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha, speeding up my recitation of the mantra to be as fast as possible, whilst invoking many Dakinis – speeding up the mantra definitely speeds up the results, though, I definitely feel like the presence of the full-moon helped to intensify the proceedings.

Catapulted into many amazing Buddha Lands. I see countless Taras, Dakinis, Buddhas, Dharmapalas, and numerous other sprites and spirits I would have no idea how to define or categorize – certainly a far share of demons, mystics, goblins, and sorcerers. Samantabhadra – Universal Sage Buddha – is a delivering a sermon to countless multitudes, in extremely beautiful lands.

A Dakini/Tara appears before me holding an old vellum scroll – it is a terma?  She tears it in two. Many Dragons, heavenly beings, Hell beings and others engaged in bizarre pass-times, feasting on entrails. I can hear foreign voices speaking words into both of my ears in stereo. I cannot recognize the language – perhaps Indian or Nepalese? There is a flash of light in the chambers of my skull, and several loud noises in the attic above my had which completely coincide with it – indication of an actual presence in the room. Groups of Buddhas levitating happily over mountains. It is all ineffable and multi-dimensional, like being inside a quantum mandala – or a Tibetan version of one of Pablo Amaringo’s Ayahuasca paintings.

Yamantaka reappears quite a few times, consumed by a corona of blazing fire, belching fire, and making wrathful sounds. I see him so often that I find it hard not to occasionally switch to his mantra! Bald, Nosferatu-like figures.

“JUST LISTEN!” Tara exclaims to me at one point. I behold her more vividly and immensely than I’ve ever seen her before. Energy flows forth to cleanse my heart chakra – the familiar feeling of a spiritual hand reaching through my sternum to clutch at my hurting heart.

Poem: Poppies and Scrolls


Do you remember when you and I

Used to build the sky?

We were not star-crossed lovers;

We were the stars themselves


I love you

Although I don’t know why

You should be singled out

As the object of my attention

What hidden history

Is it I see

In the frozen genesis of your eyes?

What ancestral force is it

That makes me see you as my child?

I love you, and yet I don’t know why;

But I do know that

We both built the sky

And we both filled the sky

Masters of the Universe

Great creators of gossamer gentleness

Can you see it?

Can you see it?

Can you see that I am your brother?

Just hold me

And put your mouth to mine

It does not matter

Who you are now

Because what we are together

Is eternal


I hold no images of you

For images repulse me

Holding onto them

Sunders you from truth

But there is something in your eyes

The sacred geometry of your face

That resonates beyond mere form


What was your body like

Before you had a body?

Are you an emanation of Tara

Now disguised as a human

Hatched in the Nirmanakaya?

A craving to be close to you

Occupies my heart

Almost as intensely as the Buddha

I do not feel it keeps me

From The Way

But allows me to behold

Parts of it I have not yet fathomed

Or begun to explore

Did you watch me die?

Did you see me filled with tubes?

Or on the grass of a forgotten field?

I was just out for a walk

Out for a reflection

And you found me lying there

In my scholar’s robes

My corpse buried under

Poppies and scrolls

 I was a Master Calligrapher

Adept in ancient Chinese

So it’s no wonder that my use of English

Handwriting makes no sense!

I don’t know what become of you

After that

As your tears watered my body

Fertilizing its future existence

And I’m back in the swamp again

Besotted with the notion of

Universal Fatherhood

Allowing all beings

To become interlocked

In the labyrinthine tendrils

Of my hoary beard

All beings embraced

In my all-embracing robe

Don’t you know I’ve always been here

Holding every single one of you?

I cannot tell you how much

I want to thank you

For the way you have opened my heart

Without even intending it

It has given me a glimpse

Into the godhead

Into the remembering

Of my fully-realized being

I am not becoming a Buddha

Because I already am a Buddha

Safely carrying all of you

In my cosmic rucksack

My satchel of poetry and dreams

Pacing the void

I span the universe

Literally taking eternity in my stride

There’s so many things

I want to tell you;

So many things that I want to teach you,

Instruct you

I want to reawaken your eternal being

So please become my disciple!

We’ll live together in a pine forest

Hidden from civilized concerns

I will teach you The Way

All the while

Kowtowing to you

And holding you as my superior

Bowing to you in deference

Scarcely able to look at you

But never wanting to look at anything else

Ah, to be a madman in a world

That has forgotten their usefulness!

Come live and love with me

And I will show you:

How the ivy grows

How the river bleaches bones

How nature butters her scones

The atrocities eternity condones

Love is not gentle

It is vicious and ferocious

Eating me alive

Chewing up my guts

And doing unfathomable things

With my secret heart

Things I have never felt before

Which we feel so very familiar

And so very certain

I want to howl, cry, laugh, weep,

Walk slowly through the morning fields

And lap up the sunlight

That you always exude

I can’t believe this

 I feel like fucking

Walt Whitman

As though I’m rewriting

Leaves of Grass

Without knowing why

Who am I really?

Who am I really?

Who is this marvellous imposter

Deceiving the world

With his gentle and exaggerated face?

Still, the poetry hurtles out of me

As I cannot stem the tide

Though half-starved and sleep-deprived

Caught up in a different tide altogether

Exultation above exultation!

You are the goddess Tara

I know you are

I know it in my cells

And other places

Where the truth of everything is hidden

This pen is going beyond me

This mind is hurtling away from me

But love keeps on attacking me

Assailing me from every direction

A mutant, I am

So it must tear me apart

It seems quite absurd

If looked at quite plainly

As a corporeal being

You just are as your are

Meaning no less to me

Than the rest

But beyond that symbol you’re wearing

I feel something deeper

I feel something ten trillion poems

Could not begin to relate

Though there is nothing that is not poetry

As none of us will negate


So, now my unknowing lover

What do we do

Now we’re at this crossroads?

But I just talk foolishness

There is no crossing;

We are just beginning to converge

I don’t want to scare you away anymore

But this hermit crab

Must destroy his shell

And hide his secrets in the cave

Where the pearl of honesty grows

Where the pearl of integrity grows