Chapter 13The Bardos

There is a teaching that the great masters often give at the very end of a long retreat, when the students have completed their prostrations, their mandala offerings, their Vajrasattva recitation, and their guru yoga. The master will look around the room with great tenderness and say something along these lines: "Now you have built the foundation. But do you understand what it was all for?"

Everything in the preliminary practices -- every single prostration, every syllable of the hundred-syllable mantra, every grain of rice offered on the mandala -- is ultimately a preparation for one thing: the moment of death and what follows. Not in some grim or morbid sense, but in the most profoundly hopeful sense imaginable. For the bardos, the intermediate states between death and rebirth, are not merely something that happens to us. They are the supreme opportunity for awakening, a gateway that opens for every being without exception. The question is simply whether we will recognize that gateway when it appears.

Patrul Rinpoche was relentless on this point. He would remind his students again and again that death is certain, that its timing is uncertain, and that at the moment of death nothing will help except the Dharma. These are not philosophical positions to be debated. They are the ground truth of our situation. And the bardos are where that ground truth reveals itself with absolute clarity.

The Meaning of Bardo

The Tibetan word bardo means simply "between two" -- an interval, a gap, a transitional space. We tend to think of it as referring only to the state after death, but the great Nyingma masters teach that we are always in a bardo of one kind or another. Right now, reading these words, you are in a bardo. Every moment of experience is an in-between state, a transition from what has just passed to what has not yet arisen.

Guru Rinpoche, in the profound instructions concealed within the Longchen Nyingtik cycle and other treasure teachings, identified four great bardos that encompass the full range of experience from birth through death and into the next life. These four are: the natural bardo of this life (rang bzhin bardo), the bardo of dying ('chi kha'i bardo), the bardo of dharmata (chos nyid bardo), and the bardo of becoming (srid pa'i bardo).

Each of these bardos has its own particular character, its own dangers, and its own extraordinary opportunities for liberation. And the remarkable thing is that the preliminary practices we have been studying address each one of them directly.

The Natural Bardo of This Life

The bardo of this life begins the moment we are born and continues until the onset of our final illness or the condition that will lead to death. In other words, it is the state we are in right now. It may seem strange to call our present life a "bardo," but this is one of the most important points in the entire teaching. If we can understand that even our ordinary waking experience has the nature of an intermediate state -- fluid, impermanent, dream-like -- then we are already beginning to prepare for what comes later.

This is precisely what the ordinary preliminary practices accomplish. When we reflect on the preciousness of human life, we wake up to the extraordinary opportunity of this present bardo. When we contemplate impermanence, we begin to feel the transitory, in-between quality of every experience. When we consider karma, cause and effect, we understand that the choices we make in this bardo determine what will unfold in all the bardos to come. And when we meditate on the defects of samsara, we develop the urgent motivation to use this precious window of time before it closes.

Patrul Rinpoche often compared us to travelers who have stumbled into a jewel island but spend all their time gathering shells and pebbles on the shore, never noticing the diamonds at their feet. The bardo of this life is that jewel island. We have a human body. We have met the teachings. We have encountered a qualified master. The entire path is available to us. And yet we squander our days in distraction, as though we had all the time in the world.

The extraordinary preliminary practices -- taking refuge, generating bodhichitta, the Vajrasattva purification, mandala offering, and guru yoga -- are the essential tools for making the most of this bardo. Through refuge, we establish our direction. Through bodhichitta, we ensure that our journey benefits all beings. Through Vajrasattva practice, we clear away the obscurations that prevent us from recognizing the nature of mind. Through the mandala offering, we accumulate the merit that creates the conditions for realization. And through guru yoga, we receive the blessing that opens our eyes to what has been present all along.

There is a profound connection here to the practice of phowa, or transference of consciousness, that we explored in the previous chapter. The best phowa, the masters tell us, is to recognize the nature of mind in this very life and to stabilize that recognition through practice. If we can do that, then at the moment of death we will be like an old friend meeting an old friend. The luminosity that dawns at death will be recognized immediately, because we have become intimately familiar with it during our life.

The Bardo of Dying

The bardo of dying begins when we encounter the condition that will end our life -- whether a terminal illness, an accident, or simply the exhaustion of our life span -- and continues until the inner breath ceases and the ground luminosity dawns. This is the most critical transition, the hinge upon which everything turns.

As the body dies, the elements that compose it dissolve one into another in a specific sequence. Earth dissolves into water, and we feel as though we are being crushed by a great weight, sinking into the ground. Water dissolves into fire, and all the fluids of the body seem to dry up. Fire dissolves into wind, and the warmth of the body withdraws from the extremities. Wind dissolves into consciousness, and the breath becomes ragged and finally ceases.

Then come the inner dissolutions, which are more subtle and more significant. A white luminous appearance descends from the crown of the head. A red luminous appearance rises from below the navel. These two meet at the heart, and consciousness is momentarily enveloped in complete darkness. This is called the "full attainment" or "black near-attainment."

Then something extraordinary happens. From within that darkness, like the first light of dawn breaking on a cloudless sky, the ground luminosity arises. This is the fundamental nature of mind itself, the dharmakaya, naked and unadorned. It appears for every being, without exception. The great Dzogchen master Chokyi Drakpa writes that at this point the ground luminosity will dawn in the minds of all beings -- the only difference is in how long it appears and whether or not it is recognized.

This is where a lifetime of practice bears its fruit. For a practitioner who has gained some familiarity with the nature of mind through trekcho or togal, through guru yoga or any authentic meditation on the natural state, this moment of the ground luminosity is like a child leaping into its mother's lap. Recognition is natural, effortless, and immediate. Such a practitioner is liberated right then, without needing to pass through the subsequent bardos at all.

For those who are less accomplished, the phowa practice of the Longchen Nyingtik provides an alternative means of liberation at this crucial point. By training in the ejection of consciousness through the crown of the head, directing it toward Amitabha's pure land or toward the heart of Guru Rinpoche in the Glorious Copper-Colored Mountain, the practitioner can take rebirth in a pure realm where conditions for attaining full enlightenment are assured.

Patrul Rinpoche was emphatic that we should not put off our preparation for this moment. We cannot know when the bardo of dying will begin. It might be decades from now, or it might be tonight. As the Torch commentary reminds us, life is as precarious as a candle flickering in the wind, or a tiny bird perched on the branch of a tree. There is no telling if, having gone to sleep at night, we will wake the following morning.

The Bardo of Dharmata

If the ground luminosity is not recognized during the bardo of dying, the practitioner enters the bardo of dharmata. This is the most mysterious and the most extraordinary of all the intermediate states. Here, the intrinsic radiance of the nature of mind manifests spontaneously in an overwhelming display of light, sound, and visionary experience.

In the Nyingma tradition, this bardo is described with particular richness and precision. The peaceful and wrathful deities of the mandala appear, not as external beings, but as the natural luminous display of our own awareness. Brilliant lights of five colors blaze forth -- the pure radiance of the five wisdoms. Enormous sounds, like a thousand thunderclaps, reverberate through boundless space. The hundred peaceful and wrathful deities manifest in forms of breathtaking splendor and terrifying wrath.

For one who has practiced the generation phase of deity yoga, who has meditated on the peaceful and wrathful mandalas, or who has gained some experience in togal, these appearances will be recognized as the natural display of mind. There is a verse that says such recognition is like recognizing the face of someone you know in a crowd of strangers. The practitioner who has trained in seeing all appearances as the pure mandala of the deities -- who has internalized the meaning of the Vajrasattva practice, who has offered the entire universe as a mandala and received it back as pure perception -- that practitioner will feel at home in the bardo of dharmata in a way that no one else can.

But for an ordinary person who has no familiarity with these experiences, the bardo of dharmata is overwhelming and terrifying. The brilliant lights seem blinding. The sounds seem deafening. The wrathful deities seem to be agents of destruction rather than manifestations of compassion. In panic, such a person shrinks away from the brilliant pure lights and is drawn instead toward the dim, soft lights that lead back into the six realms of samsara.

This is why the practices are so important. Every time we visualize Vajrasattva and bathe in the nectar of purification, every time we offer the universe as a mandala of enlightened qualities, every time we merge our mind with the guru's wisdom mind in guru yoga, we are rehearsing for the bardo of dharmata. We are becoming familiar with the luminous, brilliant, overwhelming display of awakened mind, so that when it appears in its full intensity after death, we will not recoil in terror but will recognize it as our own true nature.

The Bardo of Becoming

If liberation is not attained in the bardo of dharmata, the consciousness moves into the bardo of becoming. This is the state most commonly associated with the word "bardo" in ordinary Tibetan usage. Here, the mental body -- a body made of habitual tendencies and karmic propensities -- wanders through experiences that are shaped entirely by its own karma and emotional patterns.

In the bardo of becoming, everything is vividly real and yet utterly insubstantial, like a dream. The being in this bardo can travel vast distances in an instant, can pass through solid objects, and experiences a kind of heightened, almost hallucinatory awareness. But this awareness is driven by craving and fear rather than by wisdom. Karmic winds blow the consciousness this way and that, like a feather in a gale. The Torch commentary uses precisely this image, describing how consciousness is swept through the bardo realm like a feather blown about in the wind, with nothing but terror in store.

The habits we have cultivated during our life become decisive here. If we have practiced Dharma sincerely, if we have cultivated compassion and devotion, if we have trained in meditation, then even in the bardo of becoming these habits will arise and offer a handhold. A flash of devotion to the guru, a moment of remembering the teachings, a single instant of recognizing the nature of mind -- any of these can open the door to liberation even at this late stage.

This is where the practice of bodhichitta and the accumulation of merit prove their worth. Even a being who has not attained high realization but who has sincerely cultivated a good heart and accumulated merit through practice will find, in the bardo of becoming, that these tendencies draw them toward favorable conditions. They may find themselves taking rebirth in a pure land through the power of aspiration, or at the very least, they may be drawn toward a precious human rebirth where they can continue their practice.

Patrul Rinpoche taught that the bardo of becoming typically lasts a maximum of forty-nine days, with the consciousness undergoing a kind of "small death" every seven days. At each of these junctures, there is a renewed opportunity for liberation or for directing one's rebirth. Prayers and practices performed by the living on behalf of the deceased are understood to have particular power during these intervals.

The Preliminary Practices as Bardo Preparation

Looking back over the entire path of the preliminary practices, we can now see how each element serves as a direct preparation for the bardos:

The four thoughts that turn the mind are our preparation for recognizing the bardo of this life for what it is -- an impermanent, precious, and utterly urgent opportunity.

Taking refuge ensures that in all the bardos, we will have an unfailing source of protection and guidance. The Three Jewels do not abandon us at death.

Bodhichitta transforms our entire motivation, so that even in the confusion of the bardos, the wish to benefit others becomes a compass that guides us toward liberation rather than toward the self-centered grasping that leads back into samsara.

The Vajrasattva purification clears the karmic obscurations that would otherwise make it impossible to recognize the luminosity of the bardos. Just as clouds obscure the sun, our accumulated negativity obscures the ground luminosity. Vajrasattva practice is like a great wind that disperses those clouds.

The mandala offering accumulates the merit that creates the conditions for recognition. Even natural wisdom needs the cooperative condition of merit in order to manifest fully. The mandala offering ensures that when the crucial moment comes, the conditions will be right.

Guru yoga is perhaps the single most powerful preparation for the bardos. By merging our mind with the guru's wisdom mind again and again, we develop the most intimate possible familiarity with the nature of mind. At the moment of death, when all reference points dissolve and the ground luminosity appears, the practitioner of guru yoga recognizes it as the very same luminosity they have been resting in throughout their practice.

And phowa, the transference of consciousness, is the emergency measure, the practice that Guru Rinpoche gave out of his immense compassion for those who have not fully stabilized their realization. Through phowa, even at the last moment, the consciousness can be directed upward through the crown of the head and into the presence of Amitabha or Guru Rinpoche, ensuring rebirth in a pure land.

Practicing Now

The point of all these teachings on the bardos is not to fill us with dread about what is coming. It is to fill us with urgency about what we can do right now. As Patrul Rinpoche never tired of reminding his students: the time for practice is now, in the bardo of this life, while we still have a body, while we still have a mind capable of understanding, while we still have access to the teachings and to a qualified master.

If we practice now, sincerely and with devotion, then the bardo of dying need not be terrifying -- it can be the moment of supreme liberation. The bardo of dharmata need not be overwhelming -- it can be a homecoming. And even the bardo of becoming need not be a helpless wandering -- it can be a conscious journey toward the best possible conditions for continuing on the path.

The masters of the Longchen Nyingtik lineage -- from Guru Rinpoche to Jigme Lingpa, from Jigme Lingpa to Patrul Rinpoche -- all gave the same essential advice: do not waste this life. The bardo of this life is the one bardo where we have the most freedom, the most resources, and the most support. If we use it well, all the other bardos become opportunities rather than obstacles.

As it is said: if you accomplish the practice of the great Atiyoga, and obtain confidence in the ultimate state beyond the ordinary mind, there will be no need for you to wander in the bardos at all. But even short of that supreme attainment, every moment of genuine practice, every instant of compassion, every prayer of devotion to the guru, plants a seed that will bear fruit in the bardos. Nothing is wasted. Nothing is too small. And nothing is more important than beginning right now.