Por Sala Tan

This particular Pidta, made from Burmese jungle herbs, has its origins tied to a little-known encounter in Por Sala Tan’s early years as a practitioner of the arcane.

A young samanen (novice monk) had once approached Por Sala Tan during a period when he was still quietly working in the northern provinces, away from public attention. The boy had recently ordained and showed strong signs of dedication — often meditating alone in the forests and caves near the village temple. However, despite his efforts, he admitted he was troubled. During deep meditative sessions, especially at night or in remote areas, he began to feel disturbed by unseen entities and oppressive energies. In some areas, he claimed to sense the presence of restless spirits. At other times, he would be startled awake by loud crashes in the forest — possibly wild animals, though no tracks were found.

He also confessed an unusual affinity for spiritual items, including old prai materials passed down from his grandfather, who was once a village healer. He said he kept these items near him, but found them difficult to control. The sensations they brought were overwhelming and, at times, frightening. He asked Por Sala Tan for guidance — and protection.

Por Sala Tan, after observing the boy for a period of time, concluded that while he had strong meditative potential, his baramee (spiritual authority) was not yet stable enough to handle the forces he was interacting with — both seen and unseen.

In response, Por Sala Tan crafted a Pidta using Burmese forest herbs, mixed with traditional materials used by ascetics for protection and spiritual masking. This was not a batch piece. It was made specifically for function — to shield the novice from spiritual interference, wild animals, and to balance the energy of the barang he insisted on keeping. The herbs were chosen for their natural energetic properties, and a simple, functional sealing was done without ceremony or publicity.

Years passed. The young monk continued his practice. Eventually, he grew into a serious forest practitioner, spending long periods in isolation. When he later achieved a degree of inner clarity and meditative stability, he returned to visit Ajahn Lek — the son and caretaker of Por Sala Tan’s legacy — and returned the Pidta.

He said that the piece had served him well, but now, in his advanced stage of practice, he no longer needed external protection. He offered it back out of respect.

Since then, the Pidta remained on Ajahn Lek’s altar, until recently being passed on to me now looking for it's new owner