I need to get serious about this as things may be starting to come to a head.

A recent thought that has been playing in my head is the realization that my suicide is an integral part of my parents' journey. I know there is a psychological aspect of this suggesting these thoughts are a way of attaching meaning or responsibility of committing suicide to some fictional "higher" or external purpose, therefore I have to do this, and I'm not going to try to refute them.

I'm just acknowledging them as valid counterpoints. I'll just admit that there are parallel viewpoints. They may be even intertwining viewpoints.

One thing my personal cosmology and theory of everything has not been able to account for is why was I born to these spiritually bankrupt parents?

Previously I've chalked it up to a mistake. That my ability to navigate the death bardos was faulty from my previous life, and although I was accurately able to manage a target of Japan, where I was conceived, I wasn't able to discern appropriate parents.

Instead of being born Japanese, preferably to dharma-friendly parents as perhaps was my target, I was born to a spiritually bankrupt Taiwanese couple temporarily living in Japan, who then immigrated to the U.S. Fuck me.

But calling it a metaphysical mistake is an easy way out. And even though such an incident would not be beyond my karmic theory, I have to consider what is more likely in that same theory. And that is there is more to the bond of the parent-child relationship.

In reincarnation, karma not only draws us to a species of organism we're previously familiar with, but also to specific karmic matter, people, with whom we were acquainted. That's behind the metaphysical concept that we're drawn to certain people, or that certain people are in our lives for a reason.

So even though it's possible that my being born to my parents was a great metaphysical blunder on my part, I still have to examine the possibility of a substantive relationship, no matter how onerous that is to me.

As I said, they are spiritually bankrupt. I've documented before that I almost got my parents to admit that money is more important to them than family, and I backed off at the last moment because I realized I didn't want to hold that mirror to their faces.

That might be the extreme of it, but even in all other aspects of their lives, they are mere simple, primitive, unimaginative beings living normative lives just because they were born, and they question nothing about the reality that surrounds them. There is no mystery to the life cycle to them.

Even further, within the Tibetan Buddhist description of types of karmic existence, I describe my parents falling under the category of "hungry ghosts". Tibetan iconography depicts hungry ghosts as beings who have enormous stomachs but throats that are as thin as a coffee stirrer. Their desire is huge, but there is no way to satisfy it, so they constantly crave and strive for things in a meaningless, futile way.

How can I have been born to these people? From whoever I was in a previous life, did I guide myself to these people? In my grand scheme of things, informed by Tibetan Buddhist ideas, this is not impossible to do. And if I guided myself to them, then why? Maybe I bit off more than I could chew.

Perhaps from a Zoharic point of view, I may suggest that there isn't a direct meaning or connection, but that all beings are at their own spiritual energy level between the material and divine, and even if my parents are firmly mired in the lowest, material realm of malchut, they still are on their spiritual path.

Even if I have a hard time conceiving of any karmic connection with my parents, the Zohar suggests that spiritual energies are still affected by our relationship. We're worlds apart and they can't change me or even conceive of the reality I live in, and I sure can't change them, but their energy on their path is still there, and my energy on my path is still here.

And I seem to be firmly fixated that suicide is my path, even as that path keeps being distracted. And to compound that fixation, my parents (and everyone else around me for that matter) inadvertently keep pushing me towards suicide. "Do what your heart tells you to", "Do what makes you happy", "You're the only one to decide your own future". Suicide is my response to all of those well-intended platitudes.

I want to say my parents need this for their spiritual growth, and I've probably said that before already. And of course that's where the psychological conundrum comes in because you always have to look at psychology whenever someone feels compelled to do something.

Actually, no, I don't need to do this. It's my choice, whether I do it or not. But I am convinced that from a Zoharic point of view, they would be the better for it. They would have to face a challenge they are unequipped to face, and those are the best kinds of challenges for our spiritual states.

And recently, as they've always done, they're trying to push me down a normative path that conforms to what they envision to be life. That's a path I've well-established for myself as virtual death. But that pushing may just be the catalyst to actualize my goal of suicide, which is not death. I'm not going to go all out and call it life, knowing who I am it may or may not be, but it's more life than what my parents can envision.

I don't know what my parents would go through if I disappeared. Quite honestly, there might not be any of the emotional trauma that often accompanies people who lose a loved one.

Well, a child in this case, I don't think my parents are qualified to consider me a "loved one". To them, I consider myself an "acquired attachment". Aside from the accident of being born to them, there is nothing about me they could possibly reasonably love.

If they go through a period of some distress and then accept it and move on in the manner that they handled their own parents' death, then there was nothing I could do for them by living. But if they are challenged and really have to struggle, then I think there is benefit.

But god forbid our karmic energies are linked beyond this lifetime.

From the Zohar:
"'When you walk, it shall lead you; when you lie down it shall keep you and when you awake, it shall talk with you.' (Proverbs 6:22) 'When you walk, it shall lead you,' refers to the Torah that goes before a man when he dies. 'When you lie down, it shall keep you,' refers to the interval when the body lies in the grave, for at that time the body is judged and sentenced and the Torah acts in its defense. 'And when you awake, it shall talk with you,' refers to the time at which the dead rise from the dust.

"Rabbi Elazar quoted the verse: 'It shall talk with you' (Proverbs 6:22). Although the dead have just risen from the dust, they remember the Torah they studied before their death. They will know all they studied before departing the world. And everything shall be clearer than it was before death, for whatever he strove to understand yet did not successfully grasp, is now clear in his innermost parts. And the Torah speaks within him." p. 190-191, The Essential Zohar

What I found fascinating about this passage is that Christians probably interpret the quote from Proverbs as referring to faith. It's a very simple, direct interpretation: when you walk (go forth or act in the world), faith will lead you (whatever you do will be righteous); when you lie down (rest) it shall keep (protect) you; and when you awake, it shall talk to you (ask you what you want for breakfast inform you how to act). Often even more narrowly interpreted: faith in Jesus or an exclusive Christian, white male God. That normative, bland Christian interpretation is fine and obvious regarding physical, material life, but nothing to go on and on about.

But the Zohar interprets it in a manner that I can re-interpret as squaring with the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Tibetan Buddhism describes the life and death cycle with three bardos of living (conscious life, sleep and meditation), and three death bardos (the point of death, the bardo of reality, and the bardo of becoming).

My reading of the death bardos and the guidance the Tibetan Book of the Dead counsels is that what we're striving for in the death bardos is the same as what we're striving for in the living bardos. Or striving for enlightenment in the living bardos is training for attaining enlightenment in the death bardos. Life and death are mirrored realities.

Actually the three elements of the quote from Proverbs can apply both to the three living bardos and the three death bardos, but what's fascinating to me is that I can interpret what the Zohar says to the death bardos at all.

Tibetan Buddhism is very meticulous about the death process and what happens between one death and the next incarnation of a . . . person, a soul, karmic energy. But there seems to be little in Judaism or Kabbalah about the mechanics of what happens after death. Just a far off resurrection and judgment that Christians took and ridiculously interpreted literally.

The book I've been reading, The Essential Zohar, doesn't explicitly state or endorse any theory of reincarnation, but the author seems pretty open-minded about the possibility of Buddhism-like multiple lifetimes and reincarnation.

The Zohar interprets Proverbs 6:22 not as some vague notion of faith leading us forth in life, but Torah, i.e., spiritual cultivation, leading us through the death experience. It doesn't explicitly say that the "when you awake"/"dead rise from the dust" is reincarnation, but that's how I read it, because it then fits in with Tibetan Buddhist ontology (alternatively it might not refer to reincarnation, but the awakening in a "mental body" in the bardo of becoming that precedes reincarnation).

Torah is what we do with spiritual energy in our lifetimes, how we cultivate it or not cultivate it. It's also karma. When we die, we take nothing with us except our karma, the energy patterns and habits that we've indelibly stamped on our manifestation of some primordial energy that is the basis of our consciousness through our behavior and thoughts.

We don't take our possessions, our body, or memories or anything that relies on brain matter for existence. Memories and thoughts rely on brain matter. Karmic energy doesn't. Our karma has no relation to our identity as a person, because our identities also rely on thought and brain matter.

So when we die, it is only Torah that leads us. All else falls away and dissolves. Tibetan Buddhism describes the death-point bardo as being so subtle that only the highest levels of practitioners can achieve realization/enlightenment in it.

For ordinary beings, the dissolution of awareness of the physical body elements and mental consciousness elements is so shocking and unfamiliar and disconcerting that it is impossible to maintain any stability to achieve realization, and it goes by like the snap of a finger.

The interval in the grave where the Torah acts as a defense can be likened to the bardo of reality where we are immersed in the primordial energy of the universe that is the substratum of what our human consciousness has become on this planet.

It is enlightenment, but we don't know it because of our conception of physical reality from having lived previous lives on this planet, karma. Even in the Tibetan description of the bardo of becoming/rebirth, a judgment takes place because that's what naturally emerges in this state as the wisps of karmic memory recall what occurred in our previous life and there is some recognition of "right" and "wrong". Enlightenment can occur in this bardo upon the realization that the judgment is itself mind, or created by "mind", and that right and wrong are manifestations of mind and not concrete or objective judgments.

What is Torah defending us against? Our spiritual cultivation defends us in the bardo states against the notion created by the karma from physically having existed that worldly manifestation was some ultimate reality.

The final bardo of becoming in Tibetan Buddhism describes the process by which reincarnation takes place. At some point there is a crux between a prior life and future life, and if enlightenment isn't attained, our karmic energy moves towards a future life.

Torah shall talk to you when you rise from the dust. If you cultivated yourself spiritually, that survives the death process whereby you lose everything that depends on material existence. With rebirth, your karma still applies, and if you studied the Torah, the Torah will remain with you. You can continue to undertake the spiritual path you were on in a previous life, provided you studied the Torah.

They will know all they studied before departing the world. And everything shall be clearer than it was before death, for whatever he strove to understand yet did not successfully grasp, is now clear in his innermost parts. That is literally exactly what is said in the Tibetan Book of the Dead regarding the death bardo states.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 7, 7:44 p.m.

Abraham is a pure embodiment of kindness and generosity. In kabbalistic terminology, his connection is with the Sefirah of Chesed. The energy of judgment and severity associated with the Sefirah of Gvurah is foreign to him – and that is precisely what the Adversary has revealed as an opening. As a foundation of the spiritual circuitry that must be flawlessly constructed if the redemption of humanity is ever to be realized, Abraham must be made a complete soul. That is the purpose of this last trial, as the Zohar makes clear.

"There was no judgment in Abraham previously. He had consisted entirely of kindness (Chesed). Now water was mixed with fire; kindness was mixed with judgment (Gvurah). Abraham did not achieve perfection until he prepared to execute judgment and establish it in its place." – The Essential Zohar, p. 148

This passage is in regard to the story of Abraham whereby the Creator demands that he make a sacrifice of his son, Isaac. I think – I'm no expert on biblical stories. I just have vague recollections of bits and pieces I've heard. And in "The Essential Zohar", the chapter name is "The Binding of Isaac".

The Sefirah (or Sephirot) mentioned are described differently by different sources, but I gather that they are energy states between the ultimate divine and material, human existence. They describe humanity's "distance from God", which is also a concept in Sufism. So they separate human from the divine.

There are about 10 Sephirot, and from the divine down, they each describe an energy state removed from the divine state. Or in reverse, they are like a ladder to be climbed towards the divine. Several of the Sephirot are directly associated with certain Jewish patriarchs, and here, Abraham is associated with Chesed, or mercy, sharing, loving-kindness.

Abraham is described as incomplete because he is purely Chesed, without a drop of Chesed's "negative" counterpart Sefirah, Gvurah, which is judgment or restriction.

The Adversary mentioned above is part of the divine mechanisms. Angels who are testing God's creation, partly out of spite for being told that Adam was closer to God than the angels. The Essential Zohar likens them to criminal defense attorneys, who might seem to be despicable, defending criminals and degenerates, but they serve a vital function in the justice system by creating balance. They ensure the legal process maintains the highest standards to protect citizens from possible abuses or over-zealous prosecution.

They see Abraham's perfect Chesed as a possible fault and request permission from the Creator to test his faith – would he maintain his faith when asked to do the unthinkable? So the Creator commands this perfect believer to make the ultimate sacrifice of his own son, who was born after much difficulty.

Abraham passes the test with flying colors, but in doing so, his being is infused with Gvurah, which was necessary to offer Isaac as a sacrifice until the Creator stopped him at the last second. Having the energy states of Chesed and Gvurah, Abraham is described as having his soul complete.

I love the description of the Sefirah as divine circuitry to connect humanity with the divine, angling for the ultimate redemption of humankind in the Garden of Eden.

What I get out of these concepts is that the Jewish patriarchs created the circuit pathways up the ladder of Sephirot for all humanity, all following generations. Abraham completed that particular connection for all of us so that we don't have to by ourselves. All we have to do is acknowledge Abraham's accomplishment within ourselves.

For example, living in a major urban city, I witness a lot of behavior that can be described as unmindful or even stupid. If I were 100% compassionate, I would cow down to such behaviors and just let them be and not be critical or judgmental.

But that's not necessarily the best course of action. Sometimes it's better to act in a way that's rude to them or even threatening to try to bring to their attention that they need to be mindful, too. That's Gvurah.

The intention must be correct, i.e. balanced with Chesed. If it's just Gvurah, then it's aggression or spite or anger. If the intention is compassionate, then an aggressive act is balanced with Chesed.

Abraham completed that circuit for me, and to the extent that I have it, I am grateful to Abraham.

I think these ideas can be linked with karma. Regarding the theory of reincarnation and karma, we don't take anything with us from one life to a subsequent one except our karma. And the establishment and recognition of the sephirotic circuitry is karma. It's one more step up the tree of life.

I saw the sun today!! I even sallied forth into it!!! I couldn't believe it when I craned my neck looking up from my window, which otherwise looks out into an alley, and saw evidence of blue skies. This entire past week was completely rainy or cloudy. I kept track.

I didn't know what I wanted to do out there. I was still too suspicious to try to get on my bike because it still could cloud over quickly and start raining. I thought of going up to Danshui where I've decided should be the site of my next attempt, or I could go to the library and re-read more of The Essential Zohar.

I went out realistically thinking that I would end up in the library, but for all the resistance in me against going to Danshui, I rebelled and pushed myself towards that option and was finally on a bus towards the MRT that would take me to the northern-most station on the red line.

The MRT loosely follows the Danshui River northward and takes about 30 minutes to the terminal station. From there, it's still a bit of a hike to the mouth of the river where it empties into the Taiwan Strait – open seas. I'm not sure I would call today's trek a dress rehearsal; more just scouting out coastline locations.

And I did stand on the sand of the shoreline. The surf was rough and I wondered if I could even make it far enough out so that I would be taken out to sea and not pushed back to shore by the waves. I felt I didn't want to do it. I felt I couldn't do it. But I have to do it.

And if I do it, I confirmed this was a good location. I walked along the beach towards the touristy Fisherman's Wharf area. The sun was setting in the west and it was a bit windy, but not chilly. I couldn't believe it wasn't raining.

The midrash teaches that when Moses stretched out his hand over the waters, nothing happened. It was only when one man actually walked out into the waves that the Red Sea parted – but not until the water had reached his neck and he kept walking. Then and only then was certainty in the tools of Kabbalah really made manifest . . . Before we can live in this universe in a meaningful way, however, we should rid ourselves of the belief that we are helpless human beings about to drown in a stormy sea. – p. 107, The Essential Zohar

I love how this scene contrasts Christian portrayals, whereby Moses dramatically stretches his noble hand outward and by the grace of GOD the waters of the Red Sea part and he leads his withered and weathered people across. Here he stretches out his hand and nothing happens. Um, Moses?

It's not even Moses that heads into the water, it's "one man".

I jest. One man can be interpreted as the unity of the chosen people, that it's when all the people believed and were certain in their belief enough to just head into the surf that the Creator's miracle was manifested.

It wasn't the prophet Moses leading his unenlightened followers, it was the entire nation that manifested the miracle. I think this chapter was written about certainty as a requisite energy or attitude in the pathways to the divine.

I think it was written that the Jews left Egypt with their "weapons", and the Zohar interprets "weapons" as miracles, but access to these miracles was contingent upon certainty that they were thus armed. They had to be confident and positive.

There was a very slight drizzle in my neighborhood after I got off the bus coming back from Danshui, but it didn't develop into a full-blown rain.

In the study of Kabbalah and the Zohar, we begin to see that any activity that connects us with another dimension of consciousness – be it drink, drugs, sex, meditation or prayer – draws Light to us. Rarely, if ever, is abstention recommended by the Zohar in regard to any of these vehicles. Rather we are guided to recognize temperance as the appropriate approach. To deserve a greater amount of Light, we must work on and strengthen our spiritual Vessel. If we allow ourselves to "imbibe" large amounts of Light without having done that work, we will not be able to contain what we receive. We will become "drunk", incapacitated, and allow chaos free rein. Noah's sin was not in the physical act of drinking, but in drinking's metaphorical connotations. His drunkenness represented connection to a more intense level of Light than his spiritual Vessel could tolerate. - p. 104, The Essential Zohar

It was interesting coming across this passage after the last post (I'm re-reading the book at the library, copying parts). I think I had been flirting unintentionally with alcohol poisoning, leading to how I got to be feeling, but perhaps also exceeding my "spiritual" tolerance.

The passage reminded me that even through this downward spiral of maybe drinking myself to death, that I need to keep in mind what is important and try to keep certain "channels" clear. That's another thing I like about Kabbalah – its explanation of channels to the divine; energy paths similar in Tibetan Buddhism.

The "amount of Light" we can handle is also a concept I learned about in college as "spiritual aptitude". Buddhism in general reflects this idea as "expedient means", whereby the Buddha – also Jesus according to the gnostic teachings – identified who was ready for what level of teachings, and taught selectively.

Don't even try to teach kabbalistic ideas of the first five books of the Old Testament to a white, conservative Republican in the U.S., among others, because their spiritual aptitude is so low that they can only be allowed the dimmest amount of Light through a literal interpretation of scripture. It's still Light, however, so just let them follow their path. At least they have some meager sense of spirituality in their karma. And all of us who believe in these ideas were once at that point.

At first, I thought the above passage was making an analogy between drinking and getting drunk with the amount of Light one has the spiritual aptitude for and taking too much, and that they were different things. I thought it meant my drinking should be seen as an analogy of what I'm doing spiritually.

But it's not an analogy, it's literal and interconnected. The passage prima facie states that drinking has a spiritual dimension and abstention is not the purpose of the teachings.

Even through my drinking, I have to maintain awareness of my spiritual energies and not fall into chaos, which my last post seems to hint at. "Wasting away in my apartment" is chaos. It's losing the meditation.

I recognize that nothing about Kabbalah justifies drinking myself to death. It's a risky path even for me, but it's one that I've tried to keep narrowly well-defined. The most important thing for me about moving towards death is to not let chaos take over.

What I also loved about the book on Kabbalah I just read is that the Zohar indicates that the scripture is all about symbols and metaphor that must be decoded to be correctly interpreted towards a divine understanding. It's not what it seems on its face.

That's the way I was taught to watch films in a religion class I took in college that had a film syllabus. Always look for the symbols (of course you have to know what the symbols are to spot them), and look for a subtext of what a director's message might be, expressed through metaphor.

Actually that second part I learned in law school in a class that also used a film syllabus making parallels between trends happening in law and society at the time certain films were made and how the films reflected those trends.

Basically those two classes taught me to view films broadly and look for subtle meaning that might not be obvious if just watching the film as entertainment. Looking for meaning in films is about the same as always being on the look out for learning in life. It's a metaphor. Bam.

If we're going through life without learning, but just to be entertained, it's sort of condemning ourselves to meaningless existence and ignorance. We can put on our tombstones, "He/She was entertained". Or as Roger Waters put it, "Amused to death".

It's like having and raising children without any thought that there's so much to learn from them. Easily equally as much as they have to learn from you.

I also like the idea of looking at our own lives and the lives of the people around us as metaphors or having a larger meaning than we might realize; a reason.

There was a funny story in "The Essential Zohar" about a deluge starting to come down looking like it could challenge the great flood of Noah fame. It rains so hard for several days that it starts to flood. The police send out a car to a pious old man in the country to evacuate him, but the old man refuses to leave, saying, "I have faith in God. God will protect me from harm".

Several days later, the water has risen up to the first floor ceiling and the police arrive in a boat to evacuate him, but he says, "I have faith in God". After a few more days, the old man's house is inundated and he's sitting on top of the chimney, and the authorities send a helicopter to airlift him, but he's adamant in his faith, "God will protect me".

Finally, the waters keep rising and the man drowns. When the man meets his maker, he implores the Creator, "I had such faith in you, why didn't you protect me?", to which the Creator replied, "What do you think the police car, the boat and the helicopter were?!!"

I dunno. Earlier this year, I read Paulo Coelho's "The Alchemist" and wasn't impressed. One of the main themes in that book is that when your heart truly desires something, the world conspires to help manifest it.

I sarcastically thought, "Oh great, I really want to commit suicide, so according to this book's insight, the world is conspiring for me to kill myself".

Well, actually it's true.

I myself have personally led my life to where I am now, and I've set up the conditions and situation that is perfect for me to go ahead and execute it. Not only all the conditions favor it, but all the people in my life are all complicit in encouraging it, without them even knowing it.

You wouldn't believe how many times I've heard the same message from everyone in recent memory: "Follow your heart", "Do what your heart tells you to do". I even asked, "What if what my heart tells me to do is something that other people would have a lot of trouble accepting?". The answer: "You're only accountable to yourself". And I can't argue with that.

The type of parents I have and my relationship with them, and the nature of all of my relationships all feature such a disconnect that they are of no consideration or impediment. I've wounded myself emotionally and fractured and shattered my reality to the extent that re-integration into any kind of living life would be traumatic.

Everyone wants me to be happy. Fulfilling this life's mission to kill myself would make me happy, because I believe it will advance me on the spiritual path. I'm too attached to a notion of self or ego to advance further, I've hit a wall, and the symbolic gesture of intentionally throwing a lifetime away would help impress upon my karma that any particular self, any particular incarnation, is impermanent and shouldn't be attached to.

It would be better if I could sacrifice myself for some cause, for the good of other people. The stories of the Buddha recount how he recalls his previous lives and in many of them he sacrificed his life for the benefit of others, but I'm doing this for starters. Just end this life, don't be attached to it.

It's also good to remember that I do believe that death is not an end. Death as an end is just a perception. Another interpretation is that it's a transformation or a passage. Jews don't overtly expound reincarnation, but "The Essential Zohar" repeatedly implies that reincarnation is a feature of how the world was created.

Once I get past this wall, I hope that I can develop more compassion, or bodhicitta, so that sacrificing myself for others will be a more stable concept. Bodhicitta is a concept in Kabbalah, too, but it's called "desire for the sake of sharing", as opposed to desire for the sake of oneself, which is the normative human attitude.

And in Buddhistic terms, Abraham was certainly a bodhisattva.

Me, I'm just here being attached to this selfish existence.

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I wonder if the La Niña phenomena is the reason for particularly rainy years in Taiwan. This year has been one of them, similar to my first two years here. The interim two years weren't rainy and I remember them being pretty nice. This summer it rained just about every day in the afternoon like monsoon rains. And personally, I haven't seen much sunlight in quite a while. I suspect it has something to do with La Niña.

The past few weeks – I haven't been counting – but at least two weeks have been block cloudy or rainy. Yesterday was a rare sunny day and I decided to take my road bike out in the evening. Even riding has become a bore to me, but I just rode casual out to the confluence where the Keelung River empties into the Danshui River, which then continues northward to empty into the Taiwan Strait.

The significance of going to the confluence of those rivers is that it feels like a large body of water there. The Danshui is already pretty wide by then, being the end result of the Dahan, Xindian and Jingmei rivers; and where the Keelung River waters are finally added, it's quite a large basin and feels more oceanic than just sitting by a riverside.

Confusion. Conflict. Don't want. Must. Where I've led my life.

I stayed there for a while, taking in the vibe of being by the water, simulating the feeling of what I want to do. I was conflicted. I don't want to do this. I have to do this. It is where I've led my life. If I decide against it, all roads forward look bad. Really bad.

Not just difficult, not just challenging, but they put me in a bad place. They take me out of the light and into the darkness. It's not that I don't think I can handle the darkness with these years of mindfulness training, but I don't think I have the strength to maintain myself in this kind of darkness that can get worse and worse to the point where I can get lost in mental illness and lose all the training.

I'm reading a book I found in the public library on Kabbalah, the so-called mystical aspect of Judaism. The book is The Essential Zohar: The Source of Kabbalistic Wisdom and it's been a while since I've read a book that made me feel spiritual after reading it.

What's special about this book is that it explains the Zohar, the main book of Kabbalah, as applying outside the Jewish tradition while still drawing on the Jewish references of the Torah. The difference between this book and other books on Kabbalah and Zohar is that it's not just Jewish. There isn't an insider-outsider aspect. This book emphasizes that Kabbalah wisdom applies to anyone seeking divine truths, and with this kind of premise in the author's mind I found from a Buddhistic perspective this all fits in perfectly with my understanding of Buddhist understanding. It's a universal teaching of spiritual or divine wisdom.

An interesting aspect of this book is that the Zohar claims that the Tanakh, the Hebrew Bible, the first part of which is the Torah, is coded wisdom. If you just read it straight, it's possible to get nothing out of it but ancient stories (the first five books of the Christian Old Testament is pretty much the Torah verbatim, distorting it out of its Jewish origins and transplanting it in a Christian context). The Zohar decodes the Tanakh and explains all the symbolism in terms of what the Creator intended. This book in a way is a decoding of Zohar to apply to spirituality in general so that it is inclusive of anyone on a spiritual path. As such, the decoded Tanakh, via the decoded Zohar fits in suitably well with a Tibetan Buddhistic understanding of the universe.

I wish I could go into some detail but that might lead to a need for a deeper explication and that would just be a burden, I shouldn't wonder. You have to take my word for it. But a recent moment I had with the book is a passage where the author says that divine blessings will only come to anyone who sincerely studies the Torah (paraphrasing). I'm not Jewish, I don't study the Torah in any conventional sense, but I thought that if that statement were right, then I should consider myself as someone who studies the Torah. And in the next sentence, the author confirms that by studying the Torah, it's not literally studying the pages of the Torah, but anyone seeking truth to the light of the divine (paraphrasing).

The Jewish scriptures are all code according to the Zohar. Which means when the Jews are "the chosen people", Jews are code for people on the spiritual path no matter what faith. And Jews who aren't on the spiritual path can't be considered of "the chosen people". It's pretty radical stuff which rings very true to me, but then I remember that Kabbalah is described as "mystical", and as opposed to religious orthodoxies, mysticism has generally been looked down upon through the ages.

Sufism, the mystic sect of Islam is largely discarded and persecuted by Shiites and Sunnis. Christianity's Gnostic Gospels are ignored by the mainstreams, but I've read some of the Gnostic Gospels, including the recently discovered and published Gospel of Judas, and if they had taken hold or had been included in the canon, I'd have a different opinion about Christianity. The Gnostic Gospels describe the Jesus story in terms of the divine, rather than . . . blind faith towards what facially just doesn't make any sense. For me, the Jesus story as described in the Gnostic Gospels makes divine sense.