Land of the Glorious Mother Tara

horusbrightsoma
Jul 15
3 min read

Updated: Jul 16

Something shifted after our meditation at the Dakini’s Cave. A seed, long dormant, began to sprout.

Perhaps that seed was planted 7 years ago when I was first in Ladakh? Or 15 years ago even, during my first visit to Tibet? Or: maybe from a previous lifetime.

Of late though, I have been bogged down by a quiet despair. A part of me struggled to reconcile the violence unfolding in the world right now, on so many levels. The extreme ignorance to the extent of causing harm to the land, both sacred and mundane; the systematic violence targeted towards women and children (yes, even spying without consent); I say ‘violent ignorance’ because there are those who vehemently defend these transgressions.

All these energetics collectively manifest into weather imbalances and severe natural calamities that we now see.

I try to focus on my own life and work; I continue to observe on my own sadhana; and then there are days and places so beautiful that I forget my worries for awhile… and gradually, a healing medicine emerged.

Everything unfolded during my recent return to Ladakh. This was just two weeks right after completing Upper Mustang with my dear students, where we honored Padmasambhava as the highest manifestation of Shiva consciousness. The Divine Father, in that sense.

As I entered the mountainous domain of Ladakh, past Manali, the 10-syllable mantra of Tara began to whisper in my heart.

Om. Tare. Tuttare. Ture. Soha.

Each day it grew louder, but I kept it within. Until one day, halfway through the trip, my guide turned to me out of the blue and asked, “You do know the mantra for Tara, right?” And he repeated it, out loud.

Of course I knew. But in that moment it was as if the goddess Herself had asked me. Many auspicious signs followed (beyond the ones I could photograph and share on IG), especially when we meditated in the sacred caves…

The best was this: after meditating with my guide (who can out-meditate me like a snow leopard) in Naropa’s Cave in Lamayuru, I felt the presence of the Sage Atisha instead — but maybe because I was now pre-occupied by Tara — Atisha was instrumental in bringing through the well-known Tara mantra (fun fact).

10 minutes later, as we stepped into the adjoining monastery known as the ‘One Thousand Tara’ chapel, my guide quipped, unprompted, “You know, it is also possible that this place was named after Sage Atisha.”

I stood there, surrounded by one thousand little Tara statues, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could hear far within the subtle realms a jigsaw puzzle had fallen into place, and then, a click. A key had turned; a lock now opened.

My mind’s landscape was flooded with a soft, golden light. Lhamo Ozer Chenma, Tara of the Rays of Light, emerged, smiling, and behind her, countless other forms of Tara. The first time I saw this scene? 15 years ago when I was meditating at lake Namucuo in Tibet.

Countless colorful light-beings hovering over lotus flowers upon the lake. What a glorious sight.

Over the days that followed, more instructions emerged. One of the most interesting insights I can share is the subsumption and shape-shifting of the tantric goddess into specific forms within the 21 Taras. My beloved Durga, for example, easily took on the form of one of the Red Taras; most astounding of all, even the 10 Mahavidyas were revealed to have their own forms within the 21.

But more fundamentally important is this: Tara is the dispeller of ignorance. Her wisdom compassion is the medicine which is very much needed by all who live and breathe in this earth at such a time marked by chaos and violence. Humans, animals, plants, the land and its elements… are all in dire need for such a soul-level nourishment and heart-awakening.