A couple of years ago I read Christoph Wallis' translation of and commentary on the
Recognition Sutras. It was an interesting glimpse to Kashmiri Shaivism, a nondual branch of what we now call hinduism. So when I saw
his earlier introduction to the broader scope of tantric teachings, of which Shaivism is a particular lineage, floating about my used bookstore, I figured I should expand my mind a little. I found this book less well written and less interesting than the
Recognition Sutras, but it was still worth getting a little fuller picture of this tradition.
The book's subtitle, "The Philosophy, History, and Practice of a Timeless Tradition" also turns out to be its organizational principle. The first part contains a long discussion of nondual
philosophy, including a set of lists to rival even the Buddhist list obsession -- 36 tattvas, 5 acts of God, 4 levels of the world, 5 states of Awareness, etc ... This was all interesting enough, but ultimately feels to me like just another arbitrary metaphysical construct. Certainly, part of this response is simply because, right now, I find myself more interested in the marked contrast between this philosophical apparatus and the Buddha's
refusal to even
engage these metaphysical speculations. But there's also a coherent intellectual objection here that I first formulated in the context of people talking about Dzogchen (a system which Wallis suggests is extremely similar to Kashmiri Shaivism). If everything, including ourselves, is really just an emanation of a single divine energy, why are there so many different gods and practices and lists involved? Compared to Theravadan practices and philosophy, the Tantric world is incredibly
complex. I understand that it's more of a lay tradition, not aimed mainly at monastics. And I understand that this naturally means it is a less renunciate path, more open to the beauty and complexity of everyday life. But one would naively think that the practices which fit with what Wallis calls a "nondual monism" would be more like shikantaza, and less like multi-part meditations with elaborate visualization of deities and channels. To be clear, I think this objection is simply the
beginning of conversation, not some sort of invalidation of these traditions. I still find the contrast between core belief and philosophical articulation notable.
The second, more interesting, part of the book explains the history of Tantra. Wallis is not merely a spiritual practitioner, but also an academic, so he does a great job of situating this tradition with the context of medieval India, distinguishing it's various flavors, and tracing some of its later influences. For example, it's remarkable to learn that we can trace the origins of hatha-yoga back to a much corrupted version of tantric practices. It was also kinda interesting to get such a succinct overview of the way various branches of the tradition can be organized into a left-right spectrum defined by how seriously they take the concept of nonduality. I personally might have wished for more detail concerning the way that Buddhism clearly influenced these branches of Vedanta, as well as more insight into how their influence in turn percolated back into Vajrayana, and especially Tibetan, Buddhism. But this was probably beyond what could be put into one volume.
The final part contains a quick overview of tantric practices. There's not really enough detail to start doing these practices on one's own, though this is clearly by design. Wallis feels like anyone interested enough in this way of seeing the world should pursue a relationship with a qualified teacher. So we really just get a flavor for some of the pranayama and visualization practices that were central to almost all the tantric lineages. There's even a section regarding what you might call "insight" meditation -- looking at the world in ways that loosen our self-centered concepts and thus bring us into contact with some larger field, interpreted here as divine.