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ambu
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Joined: 25 Sep 2002
Posts: 1225
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 Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2010 6:41 pm Post subject: Dear Tara |
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| Sunday,October 17, 2010, I begin this outspoken chronicle from my thoughts and reflections. The possibility exists that someone will have the courage to engage in conversation with me here. Technologically, that could happen, but psychologically, there seems to be a whole range of reasons why people are hesitant, to the point of being utterly unable. Accordingly, I will try and set a good example, and with my identity fully disclosed, will express my thoughts. I occasionally receive email communications from people who have all manner of things to recount, and I may quote from those here while preserving the anonymity these people often seem to think so precious. So send me emails if you must, but it would be better if even one person were to show the courage necessary to simply sign up, state your full name for the record, and express in public those things that you want me to hear, so that the rest of the world can know what you, too, have to think. This first post is done under the "ambu" moniker, because that is the administrator identity designated in software. "Ambu" is Tara Carreon. |
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Tara Carreon
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Joined: 15 Apr 2010
Posts: 94
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| Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2010 7:01 pm Post subject: |
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| I have only recently opened this bulletin board to posters again, after many years of me being the only person allowed to post. Before that, I allowed posters, but, of course, it got crazy. One of the things I found to be a big problem was people hiding their identities. I didn't know who or what I was talking to. I didn't feel like talking to people who were concealing who they were, and then sometimes they said weird, threatening things without fear of repercussion. Also, I'm trying to gather true information, and there is no way to verify that unless I know the person's real name. I have no desire to pass on slander of lamas, or anyone else, if the person saying it won't stand behind the information with their name. There's too much false information in the world already. I want to set a standard for bulletin boards here, so all posters are required to give their true name. There's no way I can verify that without putting too many obstacles in the way of someone wanting to post. I have to take your word for it. At one point, I did require posters to fill out a questionnaire, and give me their credit card number, on which I would charge $1 as a sign-up fee. Of course, nobody signed up. People are EXTREMELY fearful of giving out their identities on bulletin boards. Yet, at the same time, 150 million people have signed up to Facebook. People seem quite happy to give all their personal information to the Facebook authorities, but they don't trust regular people. That's some real confusion, there. |
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Tara Carreon
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Joined: 15 Apr 2010
Posts: 94
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| Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2010 7:37 pm Post subject: |
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The ironic thing is, I don't even like this subject. I'm not interested in Tibetan Buddhism or Buddhism anymore. There are far more important things to be worried about, like who is running the world and flushing it down the toilet. But because I get emails from Buddhists, who often enough invite me to post on whatever bulletin board they are posting on in order to support them in their rebellious views, I end up getting involved with shit I'd rather not get involved with. One thing you learn when you post on bulletin boards out there is that you're not allowed to say anything. Everything is censored. So there will be no censoring at this bulletin board, unless some horrible situation requires it. Never say never. But I had hoped when I opened this bulletin board up to Buddhist posters, that they would feel free to go ahead and talk with each other, and that I wouldn't have to get involved. I consider it a waste of my time to post here, when I could be putting up an important book. But I can't seem to extricate myself from this, either.
One thing that really irritates me is getting serial emails from people who don't have the guts to post here. It seems like everyone is so afraid of having anyone know who they are -- Jesus Christ, get over it! Everyone's like "I'm so vulnerable." So what? You want to turn into an animal, and hide in a hole like a rabbit, or stand up tall like a human being and contribute to the discussion? I'm sick and tired of your fear! Keep it to yourself! Who the hell needs it?! |
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Tara Carreon
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Joined: 15 Apr 2010
Posts: 94
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| Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2010 7:43 pm Post subject: |
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| Why is no one allowed to say critical things about Buddhism or Tibetan Buddhism on any bulletin board in the world, except for this one? Because there are fascists everywhere? Because everyone has been Shangrila-ized? Because the CIA has promoted the Dalai Lama to such an extent that no one can believe he's a big liar? Oh, well, if the CIA says it, it must be true! |
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Tara Carreon
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Joined: 15 Apr 2010
Posts: 94
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| Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2010 7:49 pm Post subject: |
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What does Tibetan Buddhism represent?
1. Authoritarianism
2. The Old Ways
3. Religion
4. Cruelty
5. Hatred of Women
6. Aristocracy
7. Demon-worship
8. Magic
9. Alchemy
NO WONDER OUR DOMINATORS LOVE IT AND SUPPORT IT WITH ALL THEIR MIGHT! |
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Tara Carreon
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Joined: 15 Apr 2010
Posts: 94
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| Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2010 8:09 pm Post subject: |
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There's a woman I'm communicating with right now by email who wants to know everything about Tibetan Buddhism. She's going to write an article. She begged me to post with her on this board http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?p=13021284&posted=1. I told her, I get kicked off of every board I ever post on! She said there was no moderator, so this was my chance. The very first post I made, a moderator suddenly showed up and deleted most of it.
They were talking about Sakya Trizin, so I posted this quote by "Am Learning," who has kindly made me aware of her real identity.
| Am Learning wrote: | In my first 5 months in India, there was a Bhutanese 'monk' who attempted to rape me as I walked back to my lodgings in Bodhgaya, where I went on pilgrimage to see the Bodhi tree, and where Sakyamuni was said to have attained enlightenment. As a result, I blamed my long blonde hair as to why this 'monk' was induced to try and rape me. So, after smacking this 'monk' in the face with a resounding crack that left me feeling guilty for years, I escaped from his muscled grip and ran back to the tourist bungalow and cut off most of my hair, and later wore clothes that would be best described as tent-like. Back in the USA, it was with my cut-off hair and in my almost floor length, made in Calcutta, dark brown tent dress that I went to see Sogyal. That was when he assaulted me.
After the 4 or so months I knew Sogyal in the USA, anything that smelled like an excuse to abuse people sexually, like so-called Tantric sex and so-called using 'dakinis to get 'energy', and most of the ritual elements of TB, repelled me.
Yes, my having been sexually abused as a child and turning to lamas as loving parent figures, who took advantage of that sexually, was very traumatizing. When Geshela asked to see my breasts I tried to write it off as just curiosity, a monk who hadn't seen a white woman's breasts before. I was trying to accept that maybe what I needed was to talk with a teacher who was MARRIED and had a family, a more worldly-wise lama, which prompted me to think in 1980 that Sakya Trizin would be a man to talk with about my feelings of existential aloneness. He had lost his parents when he was a tiny child, and been brought up by an aunt who had recently died. I thought maybe he could understand my own sense of loss, not having a family.
Since he had been giving me private teachings on the Dzogchen meditation part of my yidam practice, seeing the unawakened states as the flip side of the same awakened states, I asked him about how it was that lust and compassion were related. He said like water and ice. That water and ice are the same substance in different forms.
That seemed so wise to me! Like water and ice! Compassion is the free-flowing aspect of love and lust is its arrested, 'frozen' mode. Ah, how beautiful that seemed. Back I went to the meditation cushion with delight! This added a new dimension to ‘going with the flow’.
A week later he said he had a vision of him yab-yum with me as Dorje Phurba. Immediately I felt suspicious, but at the same time somewhat shocked and also flattered that this His Holiness person included me unconsciously or consciously as part of his 'path'. But moments later, as I got up to leave our hourly lesson in meditation, he said he had this vision and wanted me 'do it' with him. I said "You must be joking". He became visibly, audibly angry with me and scowlingly said, "No, I want to come to your room tomorrow morning when I go for my walk and do this."
My blood went cold. This lama I had come to trust over the months I'd spent studying with him, thinking I could respectfully share my doubts, worries, meditation questions, needs to understand certain texts. It all seemed to be finally happening, a quiet, simple rapport with a Buddhist teacher. No rituals, no bs, just working on meditation practice.
Then, bam, it was in that instant shattered. I didn't listen to my inner voice that wanted to say no. I didn't say no. I said alright but my heart was cold and my stomach sick. What if maybe this was it, the actual transformation of a worldly activity into a yogic practice? Like the Tibetan lamas said in the books and everything! What if I were passing up this possible chance with my teacher because of my fears stemming from being sexually abused in childhood? Maybe this was a chance to transcend that, to let go of the attachment-revulsion pendulum, to alchemize the worldly into the gold of awakened activity?
So I said ok.
The next morning he came up the steps to my rented apartment across the street from the Sakya property on Rajpur Road. He quickly snuck in, closing the door behind him and came to my bedroom. He sat on the bed, mumbled something in Tibetan, and told me to think that what we were about to do was for the benefit of all sentient beings I folded my hands in prayer and prayed, and then he lifted his skirt. Below his large belly, he put on a condom which hung off his acorn like a windsock on a windless day. Wondering what was going to happen next, and if anything could actually take place, I offered him oral sex. I sincerely didn’t think he could actually function sexually. That was when he said he was afraid that oral sex would make me pregnant. He also said that he thought that was unclean. He asked me to lie down, he lay on top of me, grunted in about 5 seconds and then ran for the door, carrying the condom with him, and really I hardly felt anything at all except somewhat numb with remorse.
So maybe he wasn't endowed enough to actually have sex except maybe for himself? Maybe this was something that was supposed to be my disciple's gift to him and I should just lump it, get over it with detachment. Maybe I should just laugh at the cosmic ridiculousness and keep on doing my meditation!
So I took a deep breath and thought, I'm just not going to think about this, and whatever it is, well that's what it is. But the next time I went for my class, ALL Sakya Trizin could talk about was the sex act. That's it. He seemed highly lascivious, amused, and wanted to do it all again. So I let him do it again. Was this a test? I was attached to feeling remorse? Was this going to cure me of thinking about sex as something important, and help me see the transparent folly of being hurt by sex?
Sakya Trizin had told me at the beginning of our meditation classes some weeks prior, to see everything as sacred, that he was to be seen as the yidam, the world as pure, all sounds as mantras, so I focused on that, that this was an 'enlightened' experience.
It was my trying to make lemonade out of lemons.
Then when I went to study with him, all he could talk about was sex, wanting me to swear that I would always tell him where I was in the world, and be available to him for sex. When his dignified, beautiful wife walked into the room that day, he went into a sort of cold-shouldering me that seemed like he was worried he might have been talking too loudly, and might have gotten caught by her talking about this with me. From then on he whispered to me.
It is widely known he married for political reasons: "In order to maintain the tradition of the Khon family lineage, in 1974, H. H. Sakya Trizin married Dagmo Kusho Tashi Lhakyet, the daughter of the Minister of the King of Derge." So I thought maybe his life was compartmentalized: political marriage here, “sang-yum” there, mother over there, and maybe he needed a person with whom to 'do' his yab-yum yidam practice and I was just a handy orifice who was also a dedicated disciple. I was to be used but not somehow included in this process???? I could see I got nothing out of these 2 encounters except confusion, remorse, some shame. But I had faith that he must know what he was doing because after all, he was a Holiness, and everybody held him in high esteem. My doubts must be out of ignorance, selfishness, kleshas.
He made me promise not to talk about 'it' with anybody; it would be our secret.
When I tried to discuss meditation with him over the next 2 years after I left Rajpur and returned occasionally, he didn't have time. All he DID have time for was wanting to talk about sex. When I went out to the Sakya center once for a wang given by the Dalai Lama there, and another time hoping to continue the actual meditation classes we used to have, he cold-shouldered me. One time he stood holding his wife's hand, which is highly unusual for any Tibetan, and I felt like I was somehow a pariah, had done something wrong, simply by doubting him in the privacy of my mind, my wanting to study meditation instead of just giving into being an orifice for him. I knew over time that our meditation class relationship had vanished and would never return.
I went into a 5 month retreat. When I came out of that retreat I house-sat for my old friend when she and her husband were away for a few days. When I returned from the bazaar they had returned, and the woman, who had found my diary, read it, burned it full of holes with a stick of incense without telling me. I discovered the burned pages a day later, asked her why, and her venom was really painful to me, blaming me for endangering His Holiness Sakya Trizin's reputation by writing what I did in my diary! I had told nobody! I had written it in MY diary!!!
So now she knew. I felt ashamed, reviled by my old, dear friend, who blamed me for "smiling too much," and THAT was why the married Sakya Trizin had used me like he did; I'd broken the code of secrecy by accident, leaving my diary around for her to pry into, and so I decided to leave Rajpur.
When Sakya Trizin came to New Delhi a few months later, he asked to see me, nudge nudge, wink wink, make sure I'm alone so he can do the yab-yum thing again privately in his room. I just couldn't go again.
That was the end of my connection with TB, of any trust, any faith. I stopped my practice with fear, regret, sadness, shame, loss, grieving the loss of my sense of community. |
After deleting my post, someone responded that this wasn't representative of Tibetan Buddhism. Excuse me, what?! Then they banned me. Little boys who think they know all about copyrights and everything, content to spread their ignorance around to everyone. Ah! The confidence of male moderators! |
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Tara Carreon
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Joined: 15 Apr 2010
Posts: 94
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| Posted: Mon Oct 18, 2010 12:42 pm Post subject: |
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The sneakiest people who want to ingratiate me in their favor are the pagans, those pseudo-liberal-radical-fascists. Pagans and anarchists go together. The Nazis were pagans. Need I say anything more? Or maybe they'll just call themselves "Vedantists." They absolutely MUST control the opposition. They ARE the opposition, the ONLY opposition. That's the "opposition" in the black and white game they invented, the two sides of the coin, the snake eating its own tail. "There are always two sides to every question." Really? Are there only two people in the whole world? Because if there's more, then there's as many sides as there are people. Just another word-trap specially designed to make us all fall into the game of their duality. "In the beginning was the Word." Then they only have to control two sides, like the Republicans and Democrats, and everyone has to get in one line or the other. I'm not getting in either of their stupid lines.When I told a lady who called the other day inquiring as to how I was going to vote that I wasn't going to vote Democrat or Republican, and we needed third parties, she laughed.
Please, God, let only Atheists sign up here on this board! I couldn't bear to talk with anyone who defended religion.
| Tara Carreon, A VISIT TO ARCH STANTON'S DHARMA CLINIC, AKA DR. DEATH'S REFORMATORY wrote: | Remember the bumper sticker? "I have given up the search for reality and am now looking for a good fantasy." While not explicitly declaring the first part, many American Vajra-cult-recruits are working hard on part two of this declaration. Like Dr. Stanton's attending nurse, Nora Cameron, they feel immeasurably enriched by their contact with Tibetan culture -- too thankful for words, really. Nurse Nora feels lucky she can hide in a fantasy dreamed up by people free of the dull impediment of scientific facts. It's a lot easier to believe that people are born from lotuses if you also don't know anything about genetics. Nowadays, things are too well known. Truth is actually so cheap that your parents give it to you free. They feed you, send you to school, teach you that the planet is spherical and the universe is expanding -- ho-hum. So much truth, but "still something missing." What's missing is fantasy, mystery, a good fairy tale.
Enter the cult. Providing the answers, providing the connections. Connections to the truth, the hallowed past, the wisdom of the ancestors, the secrets of the ages. Like those old ads for the Rosicrucians, promising disclosure of the secret mysteries, or the SRF yoga-by-mail arrangement. A lifeline to Lhasa and Shangri La, a chance to hobnob with the wise men from the east. Let's burn frankincense and mhyrr.
Or let's sacrifice some vow breakers in a blood ritual. Imprison them in a triangular box and assault them with a ritual dagger. Clean up the temple and expel the demons. Root out the heretics and purify the faith. Yeah, the old ways! Then we know who's in and who's out, who's faithful and who's in need of an auto da fe. A little session in the dungeon for the good of the soul. |
http://www.american-buddha.com/arch.stanton.htm
http://www.american-buddha.com/lit.malleus.toc.htm |
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Tara Carreon
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Joined: 15 Apr 2010
Posts: 94
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| Posted: Mon Oct 18, 2010 1:22 pm Post subject: |
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| With one head, Pagan-Fascists ALWAYS talk of freedom and individuality, and with the other of their two-eagled heads they say, "Unity is the highest good." Some people might get confused. That's only because they haven't learned TO RECONCILE THE OPPOSITES, and make good equal bad. They need to join the Rosicrucian Society, and learn how to do this valuable trick. Then you can go out and kill people and call it God's will! |
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Tara Carreon
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Posts: 94
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| Posted: Tue Oct 19, 2010 12:45 pm Post subject: |
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What's more outrageous than the Military-Industrial Complex hiring propaganda writers like Ralph Waldo Emerson to tell us all about Truth, Beauty, Nature, Poetry -- AND THE MAGNIFICENCE OF WAR?! Propagandists for the Establishment are so sneaky. Take for example Emerson's essay on Napoleon. Everything except for the last two sentences tells us "Napoleon is the absolute greatest man on earth, and even though he was a total asshole, it wasn't his fault." Then, there's his lame salvo to justice at the end. Emerson was a Fascist and a Tory. The English love him, of course, and promote him to all of us as "Our Greatest American Writer." And our children are brainwashed with this subversive propaganda in school.
http://www.american-buddha.com/emerson.napoleonmanofworld.htm
Al Stewart could have taught Emerson a thing or two about Truth, Beauty, Justice, Poetry and War:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BAqP35A9Oi8
| Al Stewart wrote: | ROADS TO MOSCOW
They crossed over the border the hour before dawn
moving in lines through the day
Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay
Waiting for orders we held in the wood
Word from the front never came
By evening the sound of the gunfire was miles away
I softly move through the shadows, slip away through the trees
Crossing their lines in the mist in the fields on our hands and our knees
And all that I ever
Was able to see
The fire in the air, glowing red
Silhouetting the smoke on the breeze
All summer they drove us back through the Ukraine
Smolensk and Viasma soon fell
By Autumn we stood with our backs to the town of Orel
Closer and closer to Moscow they come
Riding the wind like a bell
General Guderian stands at the crest of the hill
Winter brought with the rains, oceans of mud filled the roads
Gluing the tracks of their tanks to the ground, while the sky filled with snow
And all that I ever
Was able to see
The fire in the air, glowing red
Silhouetting the snow on the breeze
Ah, Ah , Ah
Ah, Ah , Ah
Ah, Ah , Ah
Ah, Ah , Ah
Ah, Ah, Ah
In the footsteps of Napoleon, the shadow figures stagger through the winter
Falling back before the gates of Moscow, standing in the wings like an avenger
And far away behind their lines, the partisans are stirring in the forest
Coming unexpectedly upon their outpost, growing like a promise
You'll never know, you'll never know, which way to turn, which way to look you'll never see us
As we steal into the blackness of the night you'll never know, you'll never hear us
And evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming
The morning road leads to Stalingrad, and the sky is softly humming
Two broken tigers on fire in the night
Flicker their souls to the wind
We wait in the lines for the final approach to begin
It's been almost four years that I've carried a gun
At home, it will almost be spring
The flames of the tigers are lighting the road to Berlin
I quickly move through the ruins that bow to the ground
The old men and children they send out to face us, they can't slow us down
And all that I ever
Was able to see
The eyes of the city are opening
Now it's the end of a dream
Ah. Ah, Ah
Ah. Ah, Ah
Ah. Ah, Ah
Ah. Ah, Ah
Ah, Ah, Ah
I'm coming home, I'm coming home , now you can taste it in the wind the war is over
And I listen to the clicking of the train wheels as we roll across the border
And now they ask me every time that I was caught behind their lines and taken prisoner
They only held me for a day, a lucky break I say
They turn and listen closer
I'll never know, I'll never know, why I was taken from the line with all the others
to board a special train and journey deep into the heart of holy Russia
And it's cold and damp in the transit camp and the air is still and sullen
and the pale sun of October whispers the snow will soon be coming
And I wonder when, I'll be home again and the morning answers never
And the evening sighs and the steely, Russian skies go on,
forever. |
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Tara Carreon
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Joined: 15 Apr 2010
Posts: 94
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| Posted: Tue Oct 19, 2010 1:10 pm Post subject: |
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An alternative history of Napoleon: "The Emperor's New Clothes," directed by Alan Taylor
http://www.naderlibrary.com/emperor.toc.htm
| Napoleon wrote: | | You've got it backwards. Try it the other way around. No, that's not how it ended. Go back. It didn't end there. It didn't end like that at all. Twist that ring. That's it. Let me tell you what really happened. |
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