Philosophy
A practical map of consciousness from Tibetan Buddhism explains death as a staged process, offering chances for liberation at each “between” (bardo). The journey spans the bardos of dying, dharmata (reality-as-it-is), and becoming, set within a wider six-bardo framework of life, dream, and meditation.
A Detailed Map of “Dying”
The Bardo of Dying begins when the dying process starts and ends when consciousness entirely separates from the body. The texts describe this through the dissolution of elements- a phenomenological account that resonates eerily with medical descriptions of dying. First, the earth dissolves into water (the body feels heavy, vision dims). Water dissolves into fire (fluids dry, hearing fades). Fire dissolves into air (warmth leaves the body, smell disappears). Air dissolves into consciousness (breathing stops, taste ceases). Then the coarser levels of consciousness themselves dissolve through stages described as experiences of luminosity, until finally the “clear light of death” appears as pure awareness without object.
This clear light, according to the teaching, is the naked face of reality itself. If you recognise it, liberation is instant and complete. But recognition requires either extraordinary preparation or guidance from someone reading the Bardo Thodol to the dying person, reminding them: “Noble child, that which is called death has now arrived. You are not alone in leaving this world; it happens to everyone. Do not cling to this life. Even if you cling, you have no power to remain. Recognise the clear light. Rest in that recognition.” Most consciousness, untrained in recognising its own nature, misses this opportunity. They faint from the overwhelming luminosity. And when they awaken, they enter the second stage.
The Bardo of Dharmata unfolds as consciousness, now separated from the body, encounters reality without the filtering mechanisms of embodied perception. The texts describe this as a series of visions- the hundred peaceful and wrathful deities, terrifying and beautiful manifestations that appear in vivid, overwhelming detail. But here is the crucial teaching: these visions are not external entities but projections of one’s own mind, the natural radiance of consciousness displaying itself in symbolic form.
The peaceful deities appear first: Buddhas of various colours, each representing an aspect of enlightened awareness. If you recognise any of them as your own nature, liberation occurs. But if you flee from their brilliance (misperceiving it as too intense) or grasp at the dimmer, more attractive lights that also appear (representing lower rebirth states), you move onward. The wrathful deities appear next- fierce, terrifying figures that are actually the peaceful deities in another aspect. Again, recognition brings liberation. Fear and flight continue the journey. What is remarkable here is the psychological sophistication. The texts suggest that we will be terrified of our own enlightened nature and attracted to the familiar patterns of confusion that have always defined us. The map predicts not just external terrain but also internal reactions —the ways consciousness habitually protects itself from its own fullness.
The Bardo of Becoming is the longest phase, lasting up to 49 days according to tradition. Here, consciousness possesses what’s called a “mental body”—able to move instantly by intention, to pass through solid matter, to perceive other bardo beings. You become aware that you have died. You may try to interact with loved ones who cannot see or hear you. You experience powerful emotions: grief, rage, attachment, and confusion. The text warns that the mental body is especially vulnerable to these emotions, which can sweep through like hurricane winds.
In this state, consciousness is drawn toward its next birth through a combination of karma (accumulated patterns), habit (familiar emotional territories), and attraction. The texts describe in uncomfortable detail how sexual attraction to potential parents leads to conception. The consciousness, attracted to a copulating couple, becomes angry at the parent of the same sex it will be born as. That anger-mixed-with-desire creates the bond to the new body. But throughout this bardo, opportunities for liberation continue. The texts are essentially an extended instruction manual for navigating these states, read aloud to the dying and dead person. The underlying assumption: consciousness can hear, can understand, can make choices that determine its trajectory.
The Bardo Thodol does not present itself as a metaphor. It claims to be a field guide compiled by explorers who went there and returned to tell us what they found. Certain Tibetan practitioners, particularly those who have completed extensive dark retreat practice or who have achieved advanced meditation states, do claim direct experience of these territories. And here is what should give us pause: the phenomenology it describes: the sequence of dissolution, the review of one’s life, the encounter with light, the out-of-body perspective that correlates remarkably with contemporary near-death experience research. Carl Jung, encountering the Bardo Thodol in the 1920s, wrote that it described something he had seen in the dreams and visions of his dying patients, suggesting these might be archetypal structures of human consciousness rather than cultural constructs.
Whether literal map or profound psychological model, the Bardo Thodol offers something revolutionary: the proposition that consciousness at death faces not annihilation but navigation, and that the choices we make in those moments matter intensely. It suggests that death is a skill and, like all skills, can be practised, refined, and ultimately mastered!