Tantra accepts life in its total transparency—it accepts the bad, the inauspicious, and the darkness. This is not so that darkness remains darkness, or that evil remains evil, but because within the inauspicious lies the potential to be transformed into the auspicious. Even darkness can be refined into light. And that which we call "matter" is, in its ultimate depths, nothing other than the Divine.
Tantra is non-dual (*Advait*). It is the acceptance of the One. That which is bad is also a form of that One. That which is inauspicious is also a form of that One. In the mind of Tantra, there is no condemnation of anyone. Condemnation simply does not exist.
G.M.N. Tyrrell wrote a book called *Grades of Significance*. In the eyes of Tantra, the differences we see in life are merely differences in the "steps of significance." Yet, the first step is as much a part of the temple as the final step. If you remove the first step, there is no way to reach the sanctuary. The ugly roots hidden beneath the earth are the very life-breath of the flowers blooming in the sky. If those ugly, dark-soaked roots are cut away, the possibility of beautiful flowers vanishes. The misshapen stones buried in the foundation of the temple are what uphold the golden pinnacle (*Swarna-Kalash*) at the top. Deny them, and the golden pinnacle falls, crumbling into the dust.
Tantra accepts life in its entirety. It is essential to understand this first, because it is upon this foundation that Tantra developed the science of transforming sexual energy. In the view of Tantra, sexual energy is the "earthly manifestation" of divine energy. Sexual energy is the very first step toward the Brahman (the Ultimate Reality).
This does not mean Tantra wants a person to remain drowned in lust. It simply means that we must begin the journey from wherever we are standing; and if the ground where we stand is not connected to the destination we wish to reach, then travel is impossible. Man stands in lust.
Man exists in the realm of sexual desire. The point where we find ourselves placed by Nature is the point of sex. Nature has stationed us there. Any journey must begin from this point. Now, from here, we can take two kinds of journeys.
One is what people usually attempt—though they never succeed—which is to fight against their own situation. We become enemies of the ground we stand upon; essentially, we become our own enemies and split ourselves into two fragments. One part is that which we condemn (which is what we actually are), and the other is that which we praise (which we are not yet, but wish to be). We break ourselves into "what is" and "what should be."
Whenever a person splits themselves like this, they must understand that the part they are denying is exactly who they are, and the part they are accepting is exactly who they are not. Their entire life will then descend into an absurd struggle. They will try to believe "I am that which I am not," and deny "I am that which I am." Such people can only become neurotic. In the view of Tantra, this is internal strife.
If one wishes to reach celibacy (*Brahmacharya*), it cannot be done by fighting sex. Tantra says that by fighting oneself, one can get nowhere. Who is the fighter? And who is being fought? We are one. Fighting means dividing oneself into two fragments. That is schizophrenic. By breaking into fragments, a person becomes deranged; it creates a split personality. We simply scatter into pieces within.
Tantra says that sexual energy itself must be transformed into *Brahmacharya*; the very power of sex must be led to the Brahman. The same sexual energy that rushes toward "the other" must be brought back to "the self." The same energy that craves the other must be made to crave the depths of one's own being. The same energy that seeks trivial pleasure must be turned toward the vast, infinite bliss—toward the eternal, toward liberation. I call this perspective of Tantra the "Non-dual Perspective."
All those who view life through the language of conflict are dualists. They believe life consists of two opposing elements that must fight. The body must fight the soul; God must fight Nature; sex must fight meditation. The entire web of their thought spreads through this language of combat. Such people do not know the truth of life.
Tantra says: do not fight, transform. Transform what we have. Even modern science today agrees with Tantra. If science has declared any fundamental principles in the last three hundred years, one is that energy cannot be destroyed. There is no way to annihilate energy. We can only change its form. Even the greatest power of science cannot destroy the energy hidden within a tiny grain of sand. Yes, it can transform it; give it another shape. A different form, a different world—everything can be changed, but the energy remains. Science says nothing in this universe is ever destroyed.
There is another side to this: nothing in this universe is ever truly "created" anew. Nothing dies, nothing is born; only forms change. The seed was there; it becomes a tree. The seed "disappears," but only because of our lack of vision. The seed does not die; the energy hidden in the seed becomes the tree. Tomorrow, the tree dies and leaves behind thousands of seeds. Energy only changes its mask; it is never lost.
Therefore, those who think in the language of "creating and destroying" think unscientifically. Sex cannot be destroyed, but in one sense, sex can completely vanish—just as the seed vanished. Where is the seed that was there yesterday? Now it is a tree. If you look for the seed, you won't find it. One could say the seed is gone, but that language is incorrect. The seed didn't die; it was transformed. Because where the seed was, the tree now stands; what *was* the seed *is* now the tree.
*Brahmacharya* is not the destruction of sex. *Brahmacharya* exists now where sex was yesterday. Where yesterday the energy was rushing outward, today that same energy, as *Brahmacharya*, is rushing inward. The energy that was "exoteric" has now become "esoteric." The energy that ran from the centre to the periphery now runs from the periphery to the centre. But the energy is the same. Tantra gave this declaration to humanity long before the modern understanding of science.
Tantra warns: do not fall into the madness of trying to destroy any power, otherwise you will only break and scatter yourself. Therefore, those who fight sex do not achieve *Brahmacharya*; they only achieve perversion. Anyone who becomes embattled with their own sexuality develops a deep enmity—and most of us harbor this enmity.
The truth is, we only know how to nurture either enmity or friendship. We do not know how to remain in the middle. We either become friends like madmen or enemies like madmen, but our madness remains. We are never able to look with neutrality.
Tantra says: the first formula is to look at sex with neutrality. Do not look at it as a friend, nor as an enemy. Do not look at it as something to be enjoyed, nor as something to be renounced. Look at it as pure energy. That is the truth. Friendship and enmity are our perspectives, not facts. They are our interpretations. The fact is simply this: there is a vast energy that spreads outward, seeking the other, seeking the opposite. See this energy simply as energy. This is the first step of Tantra.
And the moment you see it as energy, your entire vision changes. Then we are neither eager to indulge nor eager to renounce. The one eager to renounce is merely a defeated, tired, or bored hedonist. It is the same hedonist who is now talking about renunciation. But if a man is bored with indulgence, how long will he last before he gets bored with renunciation too?
He who is bored with pleasure will soon be bored with penance. If one is weary of the "feast," how can they escape being weary of the "fast"? Renunciation is just the other side of indulgence; it is the same coin.
It is necessary to understand this, as it forms the essential foundation for the transformation of sexual energy. Every act has two sides. If you are hungry, you are desperate to eat. Once you have eaten, you forget the food entirely. If you overeat, you feel the urge to vomit the very food you were just craving. The very thing you were crazy for now creates disgust. Every impulse of the mind—hunger, thirst—has these two phases: the state of desire and the state of satiation.
Similarly, when sex demands attention, a man runs after it like a madman. It leads him to a peak where energy is spent, and then he falls back into a pit of sadness. In that pit, he thinks against sex. It is hard to find a hedonist who does not think in the language of renunciation after indulgence.
Renunciation is an idea born in the shadow of sex. It is the "repentance" of sex. It is the grief over lost power. All hedonists feel a sense of melancholy, indifference, or disdain after the gratification of lust. When a husband turns his back to his wife to sleep, that back is very telling. The wife understands the signal, which is why she often weeps behind that back. Only moments ago, this man was frantic; moments later, he has turned away. He is now as bored and exhausted as if this desire will never rise again. But in twenty-four or forty-eight hours, the energy will gather again, the mind of indulgence will stand back up, and he will forget all the repentance of yesterday.
Indulgence and renunciation are two sides of one coin. Every person swings constantly on this pendulum. Some catch the side of indulgence and rot in brothels. Others catch the side of repentance and sit in monasteries. But both are holding the same coin.
This is why the man who has fled to an ashram will still feel the waves of lust in his mind every day. The call comes from the other side—the side that wasn't dropped, only suppressed. You can drop the whole coin at once, but you can never drop just one side. At most, you can flip one side down and the other up. But if the coin is in your hand, both sides are in your hand. This is why the "renunciant" constantly feels the attraction of pleasure, and why he constantly speaks against it. He isn't convincing you; he is trying to convince himself.
This is why the world's "great renunciants" have insulted pleasure so much that one suspects they must have been deeply attracted to it; otherwise, such vitriol has no purpose. If pleasure were truly gone, there would be no interest in insulting it. But if you look at their scriptures, it is staggering. Just as the hedonist praises, the renunciant condemns.
Why does the hedonist praise? To wash away his guilt. He tells himself his repentance was just a moment of weakness. He says there is great juice, great heaven in it. And the renunciant does the opposite. He is trying to falsify the memories of the pleasure he once found. He says it is all wrong, it is hell. But his mind reminds him of heaven. Both are suppressing. The hedonist suppresses his guilt; the renunciant suppresses his desire. Both are "suppressive minds."
Tantra says: do not suppress. Look. Know. Identify. Escape this duality. Neither praise nor condemn. If you praise now, you will condemn in a little while. Like day follows night, praise follows condemnation in a circle. Tantra says: see that both are futile. See the energy as neutral. All energy is neutral. It is neither auspicious nor inauspicious. It is neither for "taking" nor for "leaving."
If a person can save their life-force from this double conflict and just look at it—what happens? Tantra says that as soon as you look at life-force just as energy, without valuation or judgment, the energy stops. It goes neither forward nor backward, neither outward nor inward. Because *we* are the ones who move the energy; we move it outward with praise and push it "inside" (suppress it) with condemnation.
We have seen the pendulum of a clock. When it goes to the left, it gathers the power to go to the right. By going to the right, it prepares to swing left. It keeps moving by gathering opposing forces. When you praise sexual energy, you are preparing to condemn it. This is the **Law of Reverse Effect**.
I have heard of a Hasidic mystic who wrote a revolutionary book. The orthodox Jews were very angry. He gave the book to a disciple and told him to gift it to the High Rabbi. The disciple was scared. The mystic said, "Do not react to his behavior. Just be a witness, so you can report back exactly what happened."
The disciple went. The Rabbi was in the garden. When he heard the mystic's name, he threw the book away in anger and shouted, "Keep it outside the door! Such irreligious books cannot enter this house!" The disciple stood still; he was a witness, not a participant. The Rabbi's wife said, "Why so much anger? There are thousands of books in the library, keep this one too. Why hurt this poor man?" The disciple felt like thanking the wife, but he remembered he was just a witness.
When he returned, the mystic asked what happened. The disciple said, "If I had reacted, I would have thought the Rabbi was an enemy and the wife was a friend. But as a witness, I can see the Rabbi might become a friend tomorrow, but there is no hope for the wife." Why? Because the Rabbi reacted with such passion that he will eventually have to read it and will likely repent. But the wife was so cold and indifferent ("just put it with the other thousand books") that she will never truly engage with it. The mystic laughed and said, "You have understood the principle of the pendulum."
Tantra says: energy is just energy. Do not look at it as something to use or something to lose. Just be a witness. And when you become a witness, the energy stops moving outward. It stands still. And in this universe, nothing can truly stay still. It must move. If it cannot go out, and you are not forcing it, it will naturally start flowing inward.
Inward and upward are synonyms in this journey. Outward and downward are synonyms. As the energy flows inward, "internal union" (*Antar-Maithun*) begins.
There is a union we seek with another—the opposite sex. But when the journey turns inward, unions begin to happen between our own internal centres. When the base centre (*Muladhara*) relates to another's base centre, sex happens. It is a moment of pleasure. But when the power flows from the base to the internal centres, a meeting happens within. This is the beginning of Tantra.
There are seven such centres (*Chakras*). At each level, one experiences deeper and deeper bliss. At the seventh centre, there is an explosion of supreme bliss (*Param-Anand*). Beyond that, the energy merges with the Brahman.
Tantra calls this "Maha-Sukha" (Great Bliss). The pleasure we get from others is fleeting; we don't even truly meet before we begin to part. But within yourself, there is no parting. The union becomes eternal. This Great Bliss is simply the transformation of sexual energy.
First, being a witness is necessary. A neutral vision is required. No enmity with sex, no "friendship" with it—just a natural state. Secondly, this moment of standing still requires great patience. Why? Because our experience of sex is a split second. Because of habit, even when the energy stops in Tantra, the mind tries to rush back to its old ways.
Our mind is mechanical. It lives by habit. It knows nothing else. In Tantra, the first experience at the first internal centre will feel like sexual climax. The mind will want to flee back to the familiar. At that moment, you need "patient awaiting." Don't rush back. You might fail ten times, but keep watching. To the mind, the "Great Bliss" will feel like death. It will be terrifying.
Actually, sex and death are deeply linked. In every sexual act, a man dies a little; his life-force is spent. Some animals die instantly after mating. An African spider mates while the female begins to eat him from the head down. By the time he finishes, half his body is gone. Yet, other spiders watch this and still enter the act. They think, "I am the exception."
Humans are the same. We see death on the road and think "Poor guy," but never "I am that man." Because we feel we are the exception. In the animal kingdom, sex and death often happen together. Where they don't, sex still brings death closer. That is why the guilt after sex is actually the grief over "dying" a little bit.
So, when energy hits the internal centres for the first time, you will feel the fear of death. You must be ready to say, "I welcome death." He who is ready to die there discovers he has entered Immortality (*Amrit*).
Outward union is an entry into death. Inward union is an entry into immortality. Every outward act is a "dying" act. Every inward act is a "tasting of nectar." When Kabir shouts that "Nectar is raining from the palate," it isn't raining outside. It is the taste of life-force rising through the internal centres.
Also, just as we give birth to another through external sex, we give birth to "ourselves" through internal union. A new person begins to be born within. This is what it truly means to be "Twice-Born" (*Dwija*). One birth is from parents; the second birth is from oneself. Behind all external births is death; behind the internal birth is immortality.
If this framework of Tantra is understood, there is no difficulty in leading sexual energy to *Brahmacharya*. But this vision is hard to grasp because our minds are poisoned with enmity toward sex. We insult it while indulging in it. We condemn it while moving toward it.
The person who wants to take this energy upward must realize: sexual energy is God's energy. Condemnation is futile; indulgence is futile. Knowing it is meaningful. Living it is meaningful. As the energy goes inward, it becomes vibrant. It fills the "emptiness" within. A man can finally say, "I am full. No space is left empty."