The Tibetan bardo

The teaching

As the Tibetan Bardo Thodol teaches it.

The six betweens

Bardo means a gap, an interval, a between, and the teaching counts six. Three belong to life: the between of this life, from birth to death; the between of dream, the time of sleep; and the between of meditation, the time of settled practice. Three belong to dying and after: the between of the moment of death, the between of reality, dharmata, in which the visions come, and the between of becoming, which lasts until the next birth.

Each between has its root verse, a short vow to be said and kept while living, and the first of them asks the living not to waste the time they have. The book's whole method rests on the idea that the dead will recognise only what the living have learned to see, so the teaching is meant to be studied long before it is needed.

Liberation through hearing

The book is read aloud beside the dying and, after death, beside the body or in the place where the person lived, by a lama, a fellow practitioner or a friend. The reader calls the person by name, speaks clearly and slowly, and repeats the instructions again and again, addressing them as one of noble family and asking them to listen without distraction. The title promises that hearing alone can free them: in the between the mind is no longer held by the body, and a single moment of recognition, prompted by the right words, is enough. For a practised person the tradition puts first phowa, the transference of consciousness at the moment of death, done by the dying person or by a lama and taught only by a lama; the reading is for those for whom that has not been done.

The dissolution

Dying, in this teaching, is the dissolving of the elements of the body one into another, and the reader names each sign as it comes. Earth dissolves into water: the body grows heavy and weak, and the dying person feels as if sinking. Water dissolves into fire: the mouth and nose dry and the fluids of the body ebb. Fire dissolves into wind: warmth withdraws from the hands and feet toward the heart. Wind dissolves into consciousness: the breath lengthens and stops. The teachers who explain the book describe what follows within: a white radiance, then a red, then a blackness like a sky without stars.

The clear light

At the moment of death the ground luminosity dawns: the clear light, the mind's own nature, empty and bright, without centre or edge. The reader tells the dying person that this is their own mind, that its emptiness and its brightness are not two, and that to rest in it, recognising it, is to be a buddha. Most do not recognise it. For them a second clear light dawns a little later, while they are still unsure whether they have died, and the reader repeats the instruction and asks them to remember their meditation deity, so that they may meet the light in that form and be free.

Waking into the visions

Those who miss both lights fall into a swoon that the book reckons at about three and a half days. When they wake, the between of reality begins. Sounds, lights and rays fill all of space, brilliant and terrible, and from them the deities appear, a hundred in all, forty-two peaceful and fifty-eight wrathful. The key to everything that follows is given once and repeated each day: whatever appears is the display of your own mind; do not fear it and do not cling to it; recognise it.

The peaceful deities

On the first day Vairochana appears, white, on a lion throne, embraced by his consort, and from his heart a dazzling blue light, the wisdom of the open expanse of all things, shines toward the dead. Beside it shines a soft, dull white light, the light of the gods. On the second day Vajrasattva Akshobhya comes from the east, blue, with the white light of mirror-like wisdom, and beside it the dull smoky light of the hells.

On the third day Ratnasambhava comes from the south, yellow, with the yellow light of the wisdom of equality, and beside it the dull blue light of human birth. On the fourth Amitabha comes from the west, red, with the red light of discriminating wisdom, and beside it the dull yellow light of the hungry ghosts. On the fifth Amoghasiddhi comes from the north, green, with the green light of all-accomplishing wisdom, and beside it the dull red light of the jealous gods.

On the sixth day all five appear together with their consorts and retinues, the whole assembly of forty-two peaceful deities, the gatekeepers and the sages of the six realms among them, and the six dull lights shine all at once. On the seventh come the knowledge holders, with the dull green light of the animals. Each day the lesson is the same. The bright light is your own wisdom, and its brightness will frighten you; the dull light is the pull of your own habits, and it will seem kind. Do not go toward the dull light. Trust the bright one, recognise it, and pray to be drawn into it.

The wrathful deities

From the eighth day the same deities return in wrathful form: the fifty-eight blood-drinkers, flaming, many-headed, many-armed and terrible to see. On the eighth day comes the Buddha Heruka, on the ninth the Vajra Heruka, on the tenth the Ratna Heruka, on the eleventh the Padma Heruka and on the twelfth the Karma Heruka, each with his consort. On the thirteenth come the eight Gauris and the eight Pishachis, and on the fourteenth the four goddesses who keep the gates and the twenty-eight powerful goddesses called Ishvaris. The book is plain that these are the peaceful deities transformed, and that they too are the dead person's own mind. Recognise them as your own meditation deity, it says, and there is nothing to fear.

The body of becoming

Those who still have not recognised pass into the between of becoming. They now have a body of mind, like the body they had, with all its senses sharp. It can pass through rock and walls, though not, the book says, through a mother's womb or the seat of awakening at Bodh Gaya, and it goes anywhere the instant it thinks of it. The dead person sees family and friends and speaks to them, but no one answers, and slowly they understand that they have died. The wind of karma drives them on; there are sounds like mountains falling and seas roaring, and three abysses, white, red and black, open below.

The mirror of karma

In this between comes the judgement. The good spirit born with the person counts out their good deeds with white pebbles, and the evil spirit born with them counts their evil deeds with black. The Lord of Death looks into the mirror of karma, in which every act appears, and lies are of no use. He seems to cut, tear and devour, and yet the dead cannot die. The reader's instruction does not change: your body is a body of mind, and emptiness cannot harm emptiness. The Lord of Death and his torments are your own projection. Recognise this, rest in it, and you are free.

Closing the door of the womb

As birth draws near, the lights of the six realms shine, and the traveller is drawn toward one. The book gives ways to close the door of the womb: to see oneself as one's meditation deity; to see the couple one is drawn toward as one's teacher and consort, and to bow; to drop the desire and the aversion that pull one toward the one parent and away from the other; to see all that appears as illusion; or to rest in the clear light. If the door cannot be closed, the traveller is to choose well: to turn from the false comforts that are signs of the lower realms and choose, with a calm mind, a human birth where the teaching can be met, or to pray to be born in a pure land such as Sukhavati, the realm of Amitabha.

The forty-nine days

The between of becoming lasts up to forty-nine days, seven weeks, and the family keeps those weeks with the dead: the book is read, prayers are said, and offerings and gifts to the poor are made in the person's name, above all on each seventh day. The book's counsel to those at the bedside is a calm voice and a steady presence, so that the one who is dying is not frightened. Its counsel to everyone else is to learn these teachings now, while there is time.