Egregores: The Occult Entities That Watch Over Human Destiny - Mark Stavish 2018

Tibetan Buddhism and the Reality of the Egregore

Although the term egregore is unique to Western esoteric and occult practices, the ideas it embodies are not. In fact they are widespread, and in some form they are the basis of all spiritual and magical practices across the globe. Among the most powerful of religious egregores in the world today are those of Islam and Buddhism; but Tibetan Buddhism in particular has provided us with the most potent glimpses of this ancient practice on an organized and national level, well into the twentieth century.

Tibetan Buddhism began to appear in popular culture with its mention in the writings of the Russian occultist, spirit medium, and author Helena Petrovna Blavatsky and the Theosophical Society that she cofounded in the late nineteenth century. With the mythologizing of Tibet as a land of vast spiritual erudition—home to “ascended masters” of the “Great White Brotherhood”—and the convoluting of the Shamabhala mythology and prophecies with the ideas of Agarttha and Shangri-La in various Western schools, Tibetan lamas were poised for greatness by the time of their arrival in the West after the flight of the Dalai Lama to India in 1959. Only one more thing was needed to ensure the safe passage of Tibetan Buddhism into the fringes and later mainstream of Western society, and that came in the person of Alexandra David-Néel (1868—1969).

ALEXANDRA DAVID-NÉEL: A LINK BETWEEN EAST AND WEST

Alexandra David-Néel, a linguist, French orientalist, practicing Buddhist, and profound historian of religion, was born to be a woman of adventure. Her father was a Huguenot Freemason, and her mother was of Scandinavian and Siberian extraction with roots in Catholicism. Her parents met in Belgium, where her father, Louis David, a poor schoolteacher and publisher of a republican journal, was in exile. By the age of eighteen Alexandra had traveled modestly at her own expense and was involved in a variety of religious austerities taken from the biographies of saints in books found in the family library. Like many other people of the period, she was drawn to the Theosophical Society, joined a variety of secret societies, and even reached the 30th-degree of mixed Masonry.

Like her father, she leaned toward anarchistic, revolutionary, and, with it, feminist politics. However, her views were at odds with her blue-blood counterparts, preferring an emphasis on the practicality of economic equality over voting rights. In 1889, at the age of twenty-one, she converted to Buddhism and began the formal training of her career as an orientalist. She would learn English, Sanskrit, and Tibetan prior to leaving for the Orient. Her journey east, however, would be the result of her winning first prize in a competition that would make her the first singer at the Hanoi Opera House in Indochina in the years of 1895 to 1897. Singing and composition would serve her well professionally and personally until her marriage in 1904 to French-born engineer Philippe Néel.

By the time of her marriage, Alexandra David-Néel had a small fortune at her disposal. In 1911 she undertook her third trip to India, a trip that was planned to last eighteen months but that would extend to fourteen years. During her time in Sikkim, David-Néel met the Thirteenth Dalai Lama, who was in exile at the time. She received extensive education and training, undertaking retreats as well as utilizing the advanced methods of tummo, or the yoga practice of Inner Fire. She became famous in her own right and was widely received by Buddhist authorities during her travels. In time she would also receive a great deal of attention from the foreign press as well. Her fame would spread, even if her desire to reform Buddhism did not. Her first book, My Journey to Lhasa, was published in 1927 and was accompanied by speaking engagements and tours, which further enlarged her reputation. Two years later, in 1929, she published her most famous book, Magic and Mystery in Tibet. Beat Generation writers Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Alan Watts would be extremely influenced by her teachings.

Through the writings of David-Néel, the idea of the tulpa—an animated thoughtform that takes on autonomous existence—entered the vocabulary of Western esotericism and eventually that of the popular culture. Related to the word tulpa is a more common idea among schools of Tibetan Buddhism: that of tulku. Both tulpa and tulku are related to the idea of the mind being able to create a “thoughtform,” an idea that can gain a certain amount of functional vitality and longevity for a specific purpose.

TULKU AND TULPA:

THE POWER OF THE MIND IN ACTION

As Alexandra David-Néel wrote in Magic and Mystery in Tibet:

The power of producing magic formations, tulkus or less lasting and materialized tulpas, does not, however, belong exclusively to such mystic exalted beings. Any human, divine or demoniac being may be possessed of it. The only difference comes from the degree of power, and this depends on the strength of the concentration and the quality of the mind itself.¹

Possibly the single greatest contribution in all of David-Néel’s writings is the idea of the tulpa’s ability to develop a mind of its own. She writes, “Once the tulpa is endowed with enough vitality to be capable of playing the part of a real being, it tends to free itself from its maker’s control. This, say Tibetan occultists, happens nearly mechanically, just as the child, when his body is completed and able to live apart, leaves its mother’s womb.”² Yet, while David-Néel claimed to have created a tulpa fashioned in the image of a jolly medieval monk, a creation that later developed a life of its own and had to be destroyed, she also raised the possibility that her experience was illusory. “I may have created my own hallucination,” she writes, although she also reports that others could see the visualized monk as well.³

In The Secret Oral Teachings in Tibetan Buddhist Sects, David-Néel further elaborates on the difference between the terms tulpa and tulku.

The Tibetans distinguish between tulkus and tulpas. . . . Tulpas are more or less ephemeral creations which may take different forms: man, animal, tree, rock, etc., at the will of the magician who created them, and behave like the being whose form they happen to have. These tulpas coexist with their creator and can be seen simultaneously with him. In some cases they may survive him, or, during his life, free themselves from his domination and attain a certain independence. The tulku, on the contrary, is the incarnation of a lasting energy directed by an individual with the object of continuing a given kind of activity after his death. . . .

The Tibetan doubtobs [Author’s note: . . . he who has “succeeded,” who has “accomplished”; this implies, who has acquired supernormal powers . . . siddhas in Sanskrit] are considered to be experts in the art of creating tulpas [Author’s note: The belief in tulpas is universal in Tibet and there are many stories about them, some of these stories being terribly tragic], imaginary forms which are a sort of robot which they control as they wish, but which, sometimes, manage to acquire some kind of autonomous personality.

It is also stated that during their periods of deep meditation the [initiates] surround themselves with an impassable occult protective zone extending at times right around their hermitage, when they adopt the life of an anchorite.

Novices who are training themselves according to the methods of the Secret Teachings, are sometimes advised to exercise themselves in creating mentally around themselves an environment completely different from that which is considered real. For example . . . a forest . . . The usefulness . . . is to lead the novice to understand the superficial nature of the sensations and perceptions. . . . The relative world is close to the imaginary world because, as has been said, error and illusion dominate it. Most of humanity is unconscious of the fact that they live and move in a world of phantasmagoria.⁴

In her book Magic and Mystery in Tibet, David-Néel recounts a conversation she had with a lama about the subjectivity of thought-forms. When David-Néel expressed the notion that those who died during various rites died from fear, and the visions were of their own imagination, the lama to whom she expressed these thoughts replied:

According to that it must follow that a man who does not believe in the existence of tigers may feel confident that none of them would ever hurt him even if he were confronted by such a beast. Visualizing mental formation, either voluntary or not, is a most mysterious process. What becomes of these creations? May it not be that like children born of our flesh, these children of our mind separate their lives from or escape our control, and play parts of their own?

Must we not also consider that we are not the only ones capable of creating such formations? And if such entities exist in the world, are we not liable to come into touch with them, either by the will of their maker or from some other cause? Could one of these causes not be that, through our mind or through our material deeds, we bring about the conditions in which these entities are capable of manifesting some kind of activity?

I will give you an illustration: . . . If you are living on a dry spot of ground at some distance from the banks of a river, fishes will never approach you. But cut a channel between the river and your dwelling-place and dig a pond in the dry spot of ground. Then, as the water runs in it, fishes will come from the river and you will see them moving before your eyes.

It is only prudent to beware of opening channels without due consideration. Few, indeed, suspect what the great store-house of the world which they tap unconsciously contains. . . . One must know how to protect oneself against the tigers to which one has given birth, as well as against those that have been begotten by others.⁵

FOUR TYPES OF SPIRITUAL PRACTICE

In Initiations and Initiates in Tibet, David-Néel elaborates on the various types of rituals, or dubthabs. Dubthab is the Tibetan word for the Sanskrit term sadhana, often translated as “practice” or sometimes “liturgy.” However, as David-Néel points out, its literal translation is “means to success” or “means to accomplish something.” What are those accomplishments? In the practices of Tibetan Vajrayana they are four in number.

The following are David-Néel’s translation of the terms. The words in brackets at the end have been added and are the more common modern translations.

1. Gentle or pacific (shiwa) for obtaining long life, health, good fortune. [Pacifying]

2. Expanding (gyaispa) for obtaining wealth and fame. [Increasing]

3. Potent (wangwa) for obtaining influence and power. [Magnetizing]

4. Terrible (tagpo [dragpo]) for obtaining the power to cause evil, to kill or destroy in whatsoever manner, by occult methods. [Wrathful]

How can these results be attained? Some answer that they are the work of deities who grant their aid to those who reverence them in the required manner. Others affirm that the aim of the dubthabs [initiates] is not to worship the deities but rather to bring them into sub jugation; they also say that the man who is versed in their ritual is capable of forcing both gods and demons to place their power at his service and to obey him in everything.

These opinions are current [1920—30s] in Tibet, but both of them, according to more learned Lamas, denote a lack of understanding of the theories on which the dubthabs are based.

In reality, judging by the explanations we find in the works of ancient authors and those given orally by contemporary masters of mysticism, the method employed consists of projecting, like images on a screen, deities mentally conceived and in imagining a series of changes through which they pass, in the course of very prolonged and complicated rites.

The beings evoked by the dubpapo are not imaginary creations of any kind, they are always well-known personalities in the world of gods or demons, who have been revered or propitiated for centuries by millions of believers.

Tibetan occultists say that these beings have acquired a sort of real existence due to the countless thoughts that have been concentrated on them. [Author’s footnote: The Tibetans insist strongly upon this point. I have given instances of it several times in With Mystics and Magicians in Tibet. See more especially page 147.]

Similar theories are expressed in the Sacred Scriptures of India. In the Brihad Aranyakopanishad, 1, 4, 10, which is regarded as prior to Buddhism, we find these words: “Whosoever worships a deity with the thought in his mind: ’He is another, another am I,’ does not know; like a beast, he is used by the gods. As verily many beasts maintain a man, so every man maintains the gods.”

How do men do this? By feeding the subjective personalities of their gods on the worship they pay them, a Hindu ascetic told me.

Enlightened Lamas are fully aware of the nature of the characters they evoke, but they assert that, by this kind of mystic sport, it is possible to obtain results which could never, or only with great difficulty, have been obtained otherwise. What is the explanation of this oddity?

. . . In identifying himself with them [deities], the dubpapo places himself in communion with an accumulation of energy vastly superior to what he could produce by his own efforts. [emphasis added]

Contact with this mysterious power may prove beneficial. . . . Nevertheless, if he is lacking in skill—mainly in the . . . “terrible” category—he may be ill-treated and even killed by the mighty personalities that his mental concentration has attracted.

The mystics of Tibet consider that gods and demons, paradise and hell, exist only for those who believe in them. Although existing in a latent state, the god created and kept alive by the imagination of the masses has power only over the man who comes in contact with him. A filament is necessary in order for that the electricity dormant in a storage battery may cause the light to appear in the lamp. This comparison explains with a fair degree of accuracy what is in the minds of the Tibetans.

The majority of the [initiates] are not aware of the dual origin of the deities. . . . They do not comprehend that the latter are born of the mental concentration of the masses of believers and again, temporarily created by the thought of the officiating monk who acts as a magnet attracting these already existing occult forces or personalities. [emphasis added]

Those who succeed in comprehending the subjective nature of the deities evoked during the [ritual] are advised by the masters not to regard these deities as negligible phantoms. . . . The mentally created deities are similar to those supposed to inhabit Paradises [Buddha worlds] and other sacred places. In the very words of the Tibetan text, “they should be regarded as the two-faced unity which appears as form and is, in essence, the formless Void.”

The officiating monk should also conceive of the different deities in the diverse parts of his body and understand that they all exist in himself. The better to fix this idea in the minds of those who practice the [rituals], most of the latter end by causing to re-absorb therein the gods and demons that have been projected by him.

The celebration of the simplest dubthabs requires three or four hours; the rite must be repeated for several successive days. Prolonged preparation is needed for the celebration of the grand dubthabs [rites of accomplishment/sadhana], with the requisite initiations by a Lama possessed of the necessary powers. One must first also learn by heart whole volumes of liturgical offices, and have an exact knowledge of the ceremonial, the different meditations dealing with the necessary phases of the rite, etc. The rite must be repeated until the dugpapo [sic] has mastered its exoteric, esoteric, and mystical significations, and has in addition seen manifest signs that augur success.⁶

A MODERN EXAMPLE OF THE WAR OF THE EGREGORES

An example of the problems that can arise with the creation and worship of a being through the practice of rituals can easily be seen within the politics of modern Tibet itself. One of the most peculiar problems facing the Dalai Lama, even in exile, is the controversy over the worship of the popular Gelukpa protector deity Dorje Shugden. The gist of the problem comes from the activities of Geshe Kelsang Gyatso and his particular movement, whose principal practice is that of Dorje Shugden.

While the main argument presented concerns religious freedom, or the freedom to worship Dorje Shugden, the ramifications are considerably greater. According to Isabel Hilton, in her book The Search for the Panchen Lama, “[Dorje Shugden] had the reputation of being able to impart enormous good fortune to his devotees but also of being extremely vindictive and jealous. One of the Dalai Lama’s tutors had encouraged the Dalai Lama himself to worship Dorje Shugden, but the Dalai Lama had decided, as a result of several dreams, that the deity was harmful. He gave up the practice himself, then banned it in all institutions that were connected with his person. This included Gelukpa monasteries and, of course, the government in exile.”⁷

Hilton further states, “The origins of the Dorje Shugden dispute lie deep in Gelukpa politics and a controversy too complicated to explore here. But the significance of it pertains to sectarianism in Tibetan Buddhism: the defenders of Dorje Shugden are characterized as Gelukpa fundamentalists who regard the Dalai Lama’s association with other Buddhist sects—an association greatly strengthened in exile—as a betrayal of the Gelukpa. By insisting on worshipping the deity, they attack the Dalai Lama’s authority as a true Gelukpa leader.”⁸

As mentioned above, Dorje Shugden is in a class of beings thought to be protector deities. Who or what do they protect? Tibetan Buddhism, of course, and that means the Gelukpa version of Tibetan Buddhism. What makes this all the more difficult for many Western students to grasp is the severe sectarian nature of the forces at play here. Not only is Dorje Shugden considered a protector of the Gelukpa, but he is also considered a destroyer of “heretical Buddhist sects,” which would include the other schools of Tibetan and non-Tibetan Buddhism. In fact, an argument has been made that this extends to all practices that are not Gelukpa.

So how did Dorje Shugden originate? Apparently, Shugden was only a minor protector (gylapo—angry or vengeful spirit) until the nineteenth century, when it became a tool for persecuting the evolving nonsectarian movement of the period. It should be noted that the Gelukpa were also the principal political force or administrative party in Tibet as well, with all Dalai Lamas having been Gelukpa (or related to it) since the installation of the office of the Dalai Lama at the hands of the Mongolians in 1642. As a result, some have seen the Chinese occupation and destruction of Tibet as punishment for—or at least as a result of—the inadequate worship of Dorje Shugden. This includes possible political intrigue around the cult and the court where practices related to Dorje Shugden continued to grow until the 1930s.

In Dorje Shugden we see a sort of apotheosis, or divinization of the human being—the source of the angry ghost often said to have been a condemned prisoner—who is then employed to protect the sect and its adherents. In some schools of occult practice this trapping of a spirit is often rationalized as a form of redemption for its sins. In others it is seen as a form of spiritual slavery, even if some form of payment is given, as the payment is little more than the food required to keep it alive and employed. It is conceivable that some esoteric teachers have taken their lead from this practice and, like the Egyptian pharaohs, seek to attain a sort of immortality through the prayers, offerings, and petitions of their disciples.

If we are to believe that this is possible, then the accounts of reincarnation and psychic immortality as described in the life of the English-born lay Egyptologist Dorothy Louise Eady (1904—1981), better known as Om Sety, are all the more important. While details of Om Sety’s life can be found in The Search for Om Sety by Jonathan Cott, for our purposes it is sufficient to note that it is through Eady’s dreams that she received a tremendous amount of detailed and previously unknown information about ancient Egypt, which was later confirmed by Egyptologists. More importantly for our work, she stated that Pharaoh Seti I visited her both in dreams and in a near-corporeal state and that he lived in a spiritual domain as ruler just as he had on Earth—a circumstance made possible as a result of practices learned during his training in temples dedicated to his namesake, the Egyptian god Set.

Offerings of food, drink, tobacco, and prayers to the dead, particularly to one’s ancestors, strengthens and maintains the collective notion of “family,” even if only on a psychological level. It therefore becomes possible that families who achieve renown or are even feared over several generations do so in part because of the egregore they have built up around themselves. This egregore may at first be unconscious, but it soon becomes a focal point of belonging to the family. Such notions as family traditions, business, customs, and pride all contribute to the creation of a clan structure that reaches back in time as well as into the invisible. It is no surprise then that some of these well-known historical families should either have, or be thought of as having, an actual interest in occult practices.

When a family patriarch or matriarch is established as a spiritual or philosophical head, this formation of dynastic power becomes all the more potent. It should also not be a surprise that many of the religious, spiritual, and esoteric groups existing today were in fact at one time little more than family lineages that grew beyond the confines of a specific bloodline or geographical boundary.

Thus one’s position as an important, well-known, and respected teacher in life may be able to accumulate sufficient psychic attention after death to create a sort of “positive limbo” so that dissolution—as some believe—does not happen. Instead, one is held awake and in contact with both the spiritual and material planes through one’s created position as intermediary for one’s followers. In short, one is able to enjoy the best of both worlds—for a time.

THE POWER OF THE EGREGORE

. . . WATCH YOUR DREAMS

These guardians of the various traditions are a mixed blessing as many have discovered, particularly those who have experienced various spiritual crises as they relate to mystical and magical affiliations and orders—and their separation from them in particular. However, the power of an egregore is also that of an ambient entity simply radiating its influence in a given geographic area. Just as we feed, so does it feed. Just as we inhale and exhale, so does it inhale and exhale. The following example is from a private email to the author.

On Sunday, after both I and my wife woke early, at 4:30 a.m. because of a restless sleep and her having a headache, we were finally able to catch some rest a few hours later. During this period I had the following dream: An older Tibetan Buddhist monk gave a long teaching. He went on in a language I did not understand but there was a translation in my mind. Later in the day during meditation I “found” him again, and asked him his name, and he replied, “Lama Shugden.” Today I was informed by two of my clients that the dharma center five miles from my office gave a Dorje Shugden empowerment yesterday, the morning of my dream experience.

LANGUAGE AS A CONTROL MECHANISM

The partial objection to our present discussion that many students of Tibetan Buddhism would make is, in fact, proof of its central importance. Tibetan Buddhism enjoys a privileged position of having adherents—and converts in particular—who look at it only through the narrow range of self-defining concepts. That is, each school defines itself. Any comparison to anything other than Tibetan Buddhism, or Buddhism in general—as defined by the lamas—is rarely done and actively discouraged. Therefore, the discussion is controlled, definitions are controlled, and, with this, the overarching egregore of the sect or school is maintained.

However, it is for this very reason that we can rest assured that in fact few students of Tibetan Buddhism will ever actually read this monograph. Though claiming to want enlightenment and the freedom it mandates, they have simply traded one egregore for another. They have traded one mental organizing structure for a different one. The exception are those students who truly practice the methods they have been given and in turn are able to recognize those areas of the teachings that are universal and know how to transmit their own awakening in the language and culture in which they have been raised. The majority will simply be playing at Buddhism, pretending to be Tibetan, while never addressing their past or the implications that their choice of path has on their future.

For this reason, drawing the analogy between the Tibetan practices of tulpa, tulku, and their respective sadhanas with that of the Western concept of egregore is critical to making the personal leap that recognizes function and outcomes over format and constructs. In the words of the groundbreaking Tibetologist Herbert Guenther:

Analogy . . . is a hermeneutical device that opens up a way to an understanding of the many horizon forms of lived experience by making the beholder ponder and establish new connections. That is why symbol and analogy are inextricably interwoven; what is conceived as an analogy on one level or in one direction, becomes a symbol on another level and in another direction. Both play a vital role in quickening, vitalizing, and vivifying the individuation process. Today we witness the destruction of symbols and analogies by an unprecedented reification of them, in the wake of which we ourselves become reduced to manipulatable things that have no individuality of their own. Stories of individuation . . . may come as a timely reminder of looking deeper and farther ahead into the being-ness of our Being.⁹