The Red Tara has power. She not only helps quickly and efficiently when there is existential need, but also ensnares people when they are too attached. And bang, they are captured by grace and their spirit is softened and they are gently led on a path that first involves giving up and letting go. Falling into the bottomless pit can mean this. Enduring fear. Radically. Then slowly rising again in clarity and a secure sense of living in the now.

As soon as we see the wrathful Buddhas, we are irritated. Iconographically, there are three variants of Tibetan Buddhist deities: these friendly ones (Tara, Buddha), then the semi-wrathful ones - like many female deities with their bared teeth (Vajrayogini) - and then the really wrathful ones that you don't want to meet at night (Mahakala). And of course, all these variants are externalized feelings manifested as deities. This then becomes Buddhist-'theo'logically complex. Externalized feelings that also show the absurdity of our strong emotions when viewed from the outside. How crazy we must be when the drool runs down the corners of our mouths when we are angry, so to speak. How out of ourselves, as it is aptly called. The way forward is to acknowledge our strong feelings and recognize their creative power. Liberation from the limiting ego is the goal. 

If it were that simple. Then everything would be on the outside, happiness for example. Or unhappiness, responsibility. If it were that simple, there would be a religion that everyone would follow. If it were that simple, I would kiss the flower because it smells so fragrant. If it's complicated and exhausting, then I have to start with myself. But please stay relaxed.

Love is dangerous. I lose myself, the feelings slosh around. My inner center wavers, if it was ever there in the first place. Love becomes a straw for my helpless, needy self. If I fully embrace it, this love, I might suddenly love everyone and everything. Pink. Is that what I want? Where is my room for maneuver, my self-efficacy? Controlled by others, and then these hormones. In that case, I'd prefer to enter the waters of all-encompassing, unconditional love instead of going straight into inner immigration. But where is this unconditional love? In my Buddhist-nurtured concepts. Perhaps it is in me when I feel others? Pink after all, only more focused and conscious, perhaps. Classically speaking: when I feel the same longing in everyone, without differentiation. The longing for happiness, the longing for freedom from dissatisfaction.

Bliss is the goal. Bliss in the body. A calm, long-lasting ecstasy. Initially, a brief feeling of happiness when eating chocolate or having an orgasm may be enough. Step one, so to speak. Bliss means calm, peace, an open gaze, alertness. Consistency in the inner smile. The body is full, not stuffed. And then an alert and calm mind. 

Buddha is not so important, long dead. Nietzsche would be pleased with this statement. Because God is also dead: the idea of an external force is passé, not very helpful. Only helpful for the poor as a source of power, religion as the opium of the people, according to Marx. Arendt could say how irrelevant this generalization is; the individual assumption of responsibility for justice and freedom remains decisive. And where is the historical Buddha? After all, he was one of the first to radically assume this individual responsibility, for the benefit of freedom for all equally, without exception. Of course, this short discourse is steep. But stimulating the brain and reacting critically is important at the beginning, before I practise devotion. Not to the historical Buddha, who is actually no longer with us, but to my living lama, to Buddhist texts that inspire me today, to my colleague who meditates with me.