Live a Good Life

The most important spiritual preparation for death is to lead a genuinely spiritual life. We will die much the same way that we live.

A good life generates good karma that will then run its natural course, leading to a good death.

Karma is basically habit. It’s the momentum of repeated actions that become habitual. It’s in our best interest to develop as many positive habits as we can.

Practicing the good heart, or bodhichitta, is the essence of a good life and the best possible habit. [Bodhichitta means “awakened heart-mind” and is the heart of Mahayana Buddhism. It is compassion, love, and kindness toward self and other, likened to the unconditional love a mother has for her child. Bodhichitta is expressing this kind of love for all beings. Dilgo Khyentse Yangsi Rinpoche said, “If you put all the Buddha’s teaching into one word—it’s to have a good heart.”]

Bodhichitta, which is a heart filled with love and compassion, is also the essence of a Buddha. It purifies negative karma and accumulates positive karma.

Lama Zopa Rinpoche says, “The main thing is to practice bodhichitta. Dying with bodhichitta is the best way to die.”

Try to get to the point where your emotional default is into bodhichitta. In other words, what is your automatic reflex to life situations, especially difficult ones? Do you think about yourself, and how you might profit or escape from a situation? Or do you think about others, and how you can help?

Progress on the path, and a sign that you’re well prepared for death, is when the former changes into the latter, when you default not into selfishness but into selflessness. If you’re uncertain about what to do in a situation, just open your heart and love. This is training in bodhichitta.

Learn to Let Go

In addition to living a good life, the next task is learning how to let go.

If we can cut our attachments we will live and die with ease. In many ways, the entire spiritual path is about letting go and is therefore a preparation for death.

Shamatha Meditation

There are two central themes repeated throughout The Tibetan Book of the Dead, the most important guidebook in Tibetan Buddhism. The first theme is “do not be distracted.” This relates to shamatha, which is the ability to rest your mind on whatever is happening (the second, the practice of insight meditation). The stability gained through shamatha enables you to face any experience with confidence. In life, and especially in death, distraction is a big deal.

Shamatha, or calm abiding meditation, is a fundamental form of mindfulness meditation. Mindfulness is a powerful preparation because it does not disintegrate at death.

[Note: Mindfulness is the meditation common to all schools of Buddhism. It is the ground meditation upon which all subsequent meditations are based. Without a solid foundation in mindfulness, all the other practices become shaky. Shamatha instruction, as the way to cultivate mindfulness, is best received from a qualified meditation instructor, but there are many books that describe the process.]

If we cultivate proficiency in this one practice alone, it will act as a spiritual lifeline that we can hold on to during the bardos, and that will guide us through their perilous straits.

One of the best preparations for death is learning to accept it and to be fully present for it. Being fully present is the essence of mindfulness, which is developed through shamatha. Because death isn’t comfortable, it’s difficult to be with.

Formless, or nonreferential, shamatha is important because when the body drops away at death, we no longer have any stable forms upon which to place our mindfulness. There’s nothing steady to refer to. At this groundless point, instead of mentally thrashing about trying to find a form to grasp, formless shamatha allows us to rest on any experience without being swept away. It’s not a problem if we don’t have a body to come back to. We simply place our mind on whatever is happening and gain stability from that.

Vipashyana Meditation

The second main theme in The Tibetan Book of the Dead is that “recognition and liberation are simultaneous.” This relates to vipashyana, the practice of insight meditation.

Shamatha pacifies the mind, vipashyana allows us to see it. By seeing our mind more clearly, we’re able to recognize how it works. This helps us relate to it skillfully.

In the bardos we’re “forced” to relate to our mind simply because there’s nothing else. Outer world is gone, body is gone, so mind becomes reality. Through insight meditation we discover that whatever arises in the bardos is just the display of our mind. That recognition sets us free.

Just as recognizing that we’re dreaming while still in a dream (lucid dreaming) frees us from the suffering of the dream, recognizing that we’re in the bardos frees us from the suffering of the bardos.

Before we became lucid, the dream tossed us to and fro like Styrofoam bobbing on turbulent waters. But once we wake up to the dream—while still being in it—the tables are suddenly turned. We now have complete control over an experience that just controlled us.

Whether in dream or death, this level of recognition, and ensuing liberation, is cultivated with vipashyana, or “clear seeing.”

Instead of taking the terrifying visions of the bardo to be real, and getting caught in the resulting nightmare, we can wake up in the bardos. We do this by recognizing all the appearances to be the display of our own mind.

This recognition is exercised in meditation. The meditation instruction is to label whatever distracts us as “thinking.” For example, a thought pops up of needing to buy some milk. We mentally say, “thinking,” which is recognizing that we have strayed, and then return to our meditation. Our clear seeing melts the distracting thought on contact. Labeling and liberation are simultaneous.

Unrecognized thought is the daytime equivalent of falling asleep. Each discursive thought is a mini-daydream. Drifting off into mindless thinking is how we end up sleepwalking through life—and therefore death.

Saying “thinking” in our meditation is therefore the same as saying “wake up!” We wake up and come back to reality—not to our dreamy visions (thoughts) about it.

If we can wake up during the day and be mindful, we will be able to wake up in the bardo after we die. This is what it means to become a buddha, an “awakened one.” And this is the fruition of shamatha-vipashyana.

Earlier we said that in the bardos, mind (thought) becomes reality. What do you come back to if there is only mind? You come back to just that recognition.

As in a lucid dream, you realize that whatever arises is merely the play of your mind. This allows you to witness whatever appears without being carried away by it.

Since you no longer have a body, or any other material object to take refuge in, you take refuge in recognition (awareness) itself. From that awakened perspective it doesn’t matter what happens. It’s all just the display of the mind.

Tonglen

Tonglen (“sending and taking”), which is the practice of taking in the suffering of others and giving out the goodness within ourselves, is a strong preparation for death. It is especially powerful for a dying person to practice and for others to do when someone has died.

The rugged quality of this practice can match the toughness of death. The more I’m around death, the more I find myself taking refuge in tonglen.

The reason we suffer during life, or death, is because we are selfish. When we think small, every little irritation gets big.

Conversely, when we think big, difficulties get small. Tonglen is about thinking and feeling big.

To think big, we should first reflect upon our good fortune. We have the precious dharma to guide us through the bardos, and we have the potential to transform death into enlightenment. We are incredibly fortunate to die held by the teachings of the Buddha, the awakened one who transcended death.

Now think about the millions who are dying without being held. Imagine all those who are dying alone, without physical or spiritual refuge, or under violent conditions. We can reduce our anguish by putting our death in perspective. Tonglen instills that perspective and brings greater meaning to our death.

If you take a teaspoon of salt and put it into a shot-glass of water, the water is powerfully affected. It gets super salty. If you take the same amount of salt and put it into Lake Michigan, it has virtually no effect. Tonglen transforms our mind from a shot-glass into Lake Michigan.

On every level, suffering is the result of the mind’s inability to accommodate its experience.

Lama Zopa Rinpoche says:

Try to die with this motivation. If you die with this bodhichitta thought, your death becomes a cause of your enlightenment and a cause for the enlightenment of all sentient beings. Live your life with this precious thought … As you get closer to death, you should think, ‘I’m experiencing death on behalf of all sentient beings.’ Try to die with this thought. In this way you are dying for others. Dying with the thought of others is the best way to die.

The Indian sage Shantideva said,

“If you want to be miserable, think only of yourself. If you want to be happy [even in death], think only of others.”

Tonglen is therefore a way to practice the good heart of bodhichitta. When asked what practice he would do during death, Trungpa Rinpoche once replied, “Tonglen.”

Reverse Meditations

Tonglen is part of a family of practices we could call “reverse meditations.” They are called “reverse” because with these practices we do things that are the opposite of what we usually associate with meditation.

Reverse meditations expand our sense of meditation and prepare us for death. They are based on this tenet: if you can bring unwanted experience into the sanctuary of sanity provided by meditation, you can transform that obstacle into opportunity. This approach applies to life and especially to death.

If you can bring death onto the path, you can flip it into enlightenment. The most unwanted experience transforms into the most coveted experience. Tonglen is a classic reverse meditation because it takes in the darkness of others and sends out our light. This is the reverse of how ego operates.

[Note: These practices are considered tantric in spirit because tantra, or Vajrayana, is about transforming poison into medicine. A tantric practitioner is an alchemist, transmuting lead into gold, confusion into wisdom.

Nothing is rejected in tantra. Everything is brought to the path and transformed into awakening. At higher levels of tantra, a practitioner will perform activities that would normally bind one to samsara and transform them into activities that liberate one from samsara.]

In his book, Preparing to Die: Practical Advice and Spiritual Wisdom from the Tibetan Buddhist Tradition, Andrew Holecek describes several reverse meditations:

Pain meditation: Is a reverse meditation that prepares us for the painful bardo of dying. In addition to the emotional pain of letting go, there is often physical pain associated with disease. To prepare for this pain, we voluntarily bring it into our experience now, on our terms.

Creating as many thoughts as possible: Is particularly helpful for the karmic bardo of becoming, where the gales of karma re-arise and blow us into our next life. By becoming familiar with those winds now, we’ll be able to sail in stormy seas later.

Placing oneself in a loud and overly stimulated environment: Is a way to work with staying centered.

Watching horror movies: Is a way to work with fear, since fear is common in the bardos. In fact, this is a potent reverse meditation for all the bardos, but especially for the bardo of becoming. Because we don’t recognize the appearances of this bardo to be projections of our mind, the farther we go into it the more terrifying it becomes. The fear becomes so piercing that it can force us to grasp an unfortunate rebirth just to escape the intensity of our own mind. Establishing a relationship to fear now helps us relate to it then and can prevent such a birth.

[Note: This very fear, which hurls us into our next rebirth, becomes the basis upon which we then unconsciously live our entire life. Horror movies work with a gross level of this fear but provide one place to start. Fear is the primordial samsaric emotion, the mood of the self-contraction, that runs our life and that has its genesis in the bardos. Establishing a relationship to fear, especially the fear of groundlessness—the truth of our nonexistence—is of critical importance.]

—ooo000ooo—

All the reverse meditations culminate in equanimity, which is the ability to relate to whatever arises without bias.

At the highest stages of the path, one no longer has any preference for chaos or calm, samsara or nirvana. Everything is experienced evenly.

Pleasant experiences are not cultivated; unpleasant ones are not shunned.

As we have seen, distraction is one of the biggest problems in life and death. Therefore, one of the most important instructions is “do not be distracted.”

The reverse meditations are a formidable way to end distraction because they bring distraction onto the path. They show us how to reverse our relationship to distraction.

Instead of feeling that our meditation is constantly being interrupted—by a thought, a noise, or even life itself—the reverse meditations bring these interruptions into our practice. They become our practice. Khenpo Tsültrim Gyamtso Rinpoche said that if you’re in retreat and hear a noise that makes you angry, it’s a sign that you’re unable to bring distraction onto your path.

A key instruction, in life or death, is to join whatever we experience with meditation. But without actually practicing this it’s hard to do. An unwanted experience arises, habitual patterns immediately kick in, and we run from the experience or relate to it poorly. The reverse meditations allow us to replace these bad habits with good ones. When difficult situations arise, wisdom kicks in instead of confusion.

Noble Truths

That the bardos are both a time of danger and a time of opportunity is a core teaching. To gloss over the danger in order to prevent anxiety doesn’t honor the tradition. In Buddhism, ignorance is never bliss.

The Buddhist path is about truth, as embodied in the Buddha’s first sermon on the Four Noble Truths. They are called “noble” because it takes a noble character to recognize their uncompromising nature. If you look closely at reality, the Four Noble Truths simply describe it. This is just the way it is.

The good news/bad news of the bardos is also just the way it is. The Buddha brought this truth to light and showed us how to transform peril into promise. This truth may instill some anxiety now, but this is healthy. It’s what Lama Zopa calls “wholesome fear.”

This is why the four reminders are so important—they make us anxious in a good way.

Trungpa Rinpoche writes:

“[I] am afraid it is really terrifying when we come to think of it [death]. It is terrible. You are going to be dropped very abruptly, and you’re going to be suddenly without breath. That is quite shocking! …

It is questionable whether you will have enough memories and imprints in your mind to return to a new situation where the Buddhist teachings are flourishing. The level of your confusion is so high that you will probably end up being a donkey. I don’t want to freak you out, particularly, but that is the truth.”

Milarepa is one of the most revered meditators in Buddhism. He is renowned for his perseverance and for having attained enlightenment in one life. How did he do it? What drove him so fiercely to enlightenment?

It was his fear of death and his understanding of the laws of karma. When Milarepa was young he killed thirty-five people. That’s a serious karmic load that would guarantee a difficult time in the bardo and almost certain rebirth into a lower realm.

When he realized the karmic implications of his actions, he practiced as if there was no tomorrow. After twelve years of legendary hardship, Milarepa purified his karma and attained liberation.

We may not be murderers, but we have our own karma to purify and would do well to heed his words:

In horror of death I took to the mountains—

Again and again

I meditated on the uncertainty of the hour of death,

Capturing the fortress of the deathless unending nature of mind.

Now all fear of death is over and done. (Milarepa, quoted in Sogyal Rinpoche, Glimpse After Glimpse, July 5.)

It was Milarepa’s fear of death that led him to conquer death. We should instill a similar level of wholesome anxiety. This distress eventually—and paradoxically—allowed him to relax at the moment of death. It transformed an otherwise horrific bardo experience into awakening.

With Milarepa as our inspiration and guide, the uncompromising truths of Buddhism can speak for themselves. Let’s not dilute them for Western consumption.

Most of us don’t like to hear about death or the jagged truths that accompany it. But like any final exam, a little stress now can spur us to prepare and help us relax at the time of the test.

Unless we take control over our own destiny, karma takes control. As a fundamental force in nature, karma is nonnegotiable. We may not like gravity or electromagnetism, but our likes and dislikes do not affect these forces. We can jump out of a window with every good intention to fly, but gravity is not influenced by our fantasies.

In the same way, we can enter the bardos without preparation and hope for the best, but the force of karma is not swayed by blind expectation.

Sogyal Rinpoche says:

There are those who look on death with a naive, thoughtless cheerfulness, thinking that for some unknown reason death will work out all right for them, and that it is nothing to worry about. When I think of them, I am reminded of what one Tibetan master says: “People often make the mistake of being frivolous about death and think, ‘Oh well, death happens to everybody. It’s not a big deal, it’s natural. I’ll be fine.’” That’s a nice theory until one is dying. (Sogyal Rinpoche, Glimpse After Glimpse, April 13.)

Buddhism is an elegant but raw description of reality. It’s our job, as practitioners of the truth, to align ourselves with reality—not our versions of it.

Buddhist scholar B. Alan Wallace writes:

[I]t is improbable that you will be able to marshal all of your future lifetimes like ducks in a row, where each one provides all of the circumstances necessary to continue on the path. That’s extremely difficult, considering the hodgepodge of karma, mental afflictions, and habitual propensities accumulated in the past. If the texture of our lives up to now has been such a mishmash, it is difficult to imagine having uniformity in the future. (B. Alan Wallace, Stilling the Mind, 52.)

Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche concurs:

[I]t is quite wrong to assume that after death, a human being will be reborn as a human being again; for in beings with consciousness, karmic patterns abound, multiplying and increasing the variety of possible rebirths. We experience the existence of these karmic patterns throughout our life. As time passes, we are not always agitated, bored, or aggressive, nor are we continually joyful and stable. … We are continually colored by these changing karmic patterns. In the same way, our different births are determined by whichever karmic patterns, wholesome or unwholesome, predominate at the time of rebirth.

Waking up to truth is not always pleasant. But it’s always real, and reality is the essence of Buddhism.

So, when countless masters tell us that the bardos are dangerous, we should use the anxiety delivered by such statements—as Milarepa did and as our practice of the four reminders attempts to do—to transform danger into opportunity.

[Note: To balance these assertions, I asked Thrangu Rinpoche how much we need to worry about our next rebirth, and what to do about it. He said that if we are sincere practitioners with good hearts, and that if we help others and do our practice and study well, we will be fine. But even here, Thrangu Rinpoche is talking about the power of karma, and that if we create enough good karma then that karma will take good care of us.]

Devotion

For Vajrayana students, devotion is the central ingredient on the path. It’s also a key preparation for the bardos.

Devotion, like love, is difficult to define. It’s the feeling of heartbreaking trust and heartbreaking certainty in a spiritual master or divine being. Devotion is another word for a totally open heart.

Sogyal Rinpoche says,

“It is essential to know what real devotion is. It is not mindless adoration; it is not abdication of your responsibility to yourself, nor indiscriminately following of another’s personality or whim. Real devotion is an unbroken receptivity to the truth. Real devotion is rooted in an awed and reverent gratitude, but one that is lucid, grounded, and intelligent.” (Sogyal Rinpoche, Glimpse After Glimpse, February 24.)

If you have devotion, you’re a Vajrayana student at heart, even though you may not have received formal introduction. (If you’ve received entry into the vajra world but don’t have devotion, you’re a Vajrayana student in name only.)

Devotion, without recourse to any other method, leads to enlightenment in this life—or in death.

The Buddha himself taught, “It is only through devotion, and devotion alone, that you will realize the absolute truth.”

The master Asanga echoed this when he said that the truth can only be realized through devotion.

Devotion opens your heart. It’s a gesture of surrender and release that instills blessings. It’s about dropping any form of resistance, dying to your defensive self-contraction.

Anam Thubten says,

“When our heart is completely taken over and seized by the force of devotion, then self does not have any power to maintain its composure. Ego just dies right there on the spot . . . . Self is gone the moment our heart is completely taken over by the spirit of devotion.”Sogyal Rinpoche says that the three best things we can do when we die, in order, are (1) rest in the nature of your mind; (2) guru yoga; and (3) phowa.

Resting in the nature of your mind is cultivated with the formless meditations of the dharmakaya. Guru yoga nurtures devotion.

Devotion matures into the realization of the nature of mind, so the first two methods are intimately connected. Guru yoga is the practice of mixing your mind with the guru’s mind, which boosts you into their realization. It’s like a temporary mind transplant.

There are many accounts of people who remembered their guru while in the bardos and attained enlightenment. If you cry out from the bottom of your heart, it’s a characteristic of enlightened beings to instantly respond. So, if things are getting out of control, or you just don’t know what to do, cry out for help.

Note: We’re starting to enter esoteric material. If a teaching doesn’t resonate with you, then skip it. You don’t need to master every practice or instruction to prepare for death. The point is to find a practice that you connect with and develop familiarity with that. Presenting all these meditations is designed to help you find that right practice and to offer the rich array of preparatory practices.

The Bardos and the Trikaya

The trikaya, or “three bodies,” is a central doctrine that relates to the three stages of dying, death, and rebirth.

[Note: The trikaya can be described in a progressive fashion or as manifesting simultaneously. When viewed simultaneously, the dharmakaya is seeing the openness, the emptiness, of whatever arises; the sambhogakaya is seeing the energetic, almost emotional or “colour” quality; and the nirmanakaya is the clarity of the appearance itself.]

It describes how a Buddha manifests in three bodies, dimensions, or modes.

A Buddha is one with the formless absolute (dharmakaya, “truth body”), yet manifests in relative form (sambhogakaya, “enjoyment body”), and nirmanakaya, “emanation body”) to benefit others.

In other words, the dharmakaya is the essence of the mind, and the sambhogakaya and nirmanakaya are the display of the mind.

The doctrine expanded to include the three modes of existence. These are three levels of reality, going from complete formlessness (the dharmakaya), to completely formed (the nirmanakaya), and everything in between (the sambhogakaya).

The doctrine of the three bodies describes reality in terms of decreasing levels of density, or materiality. The dharmakaya is less solid than the sambhogakaya, which is less solid than the nirmanakaya. Each preceding kaya, or “body,” therefore, is in a sense more spiritual.

Each kaya is also associated with one of the three bardos:

Kaya	Manifestation	Opportunity for Recognition
Dharmakaya	Formless	At end of bardo of dying
Sambhogakaya	Ethereal form	During bardo of dharmata
Nirmanakaya	Form	During bardo of becoming

The study of the three bodies, and the meditations associated with them, help us organize an otherwise confounding set of experiences and to prepare for them.

Liberation at any kaya, in any bardo, is equivalent. One level is not better than another.

Recognition at the end of the bardo of dying results in liberation at the level of the dharmakaya; recognition in the bardo of dharmata results in liberation at the level of the sambhogakaya; and recognition in the bardo of becoming results in liberation at the level of the nirmanakaya.

[Note: Some masters place liberation at the level of the dharmakaya in phase one of the luminous bardo of dharmata, and liberation at the level of the sambhogakaya in phase two. The trikaya is also associated with realizing the twofold benefit: realizing the dharmakaya is the ultimate benefit for oneself; realizing the rupakayas (form kayas) of the sambhogakaya and nirmanakaya is the ultimate benefit for others.]

Buddhahood is defined as the full realization of the trikaya. This is because the trikaya is the essence of who we are, and that essence is awake, the buddha within.

Death is an involuntary journey into who we really are, a plunge into the depths of our mind and therefore into our buddha nature. In other words, death is a tour into the trikaya.

So, if we study the trikaya in life, we will recognize our enlightened aspects as they are revealed at death. Recognition and liberation are simultaneous.

Dharmakaya and Formless Meditation: At the end of the bardo of dying, mind is stripped of all of its obscurations, of who and what we think we are.

All form melts back into the formlessness from which it arose. The nature of mind, the dharmakaya (dharmata) or clear light mind, is then revealed. In other words, death is the dharmakaya.

If we can recognize the dharmakaya at death, we will attain enlightenment. This is the glorious occasion, in a famous phrase from the bardo literature, when the mother and child luminosities unite.

The child luminosity, which is the level of our recognition of the dharmakaya cultivated during life, recognizes its mother, which is the dharmakaya from which everything arises and then dissolves. Enlightenment is the result of this mother and child reunion.

Sambhogakaya and Deity Yoga: Recognition in the bardo of dharmata, which is liberation at the level of the sambhogakaya, is brought about by becoming familiar with the sambhogakaya through the generation phase of deity yoga. In deity yoga, you visualize yourself as a deity and recite the deity’s mantra, which is like downloading the deity into your body-mind matrix.

[Note: Deity yoga, or yidam practice, is also called creation and completion phase meditation. Lama Yeshe refers to it as “evolutionary stage” practice. The creation phase (when you and your world arise out of emptiness and are visualized in a pure form) is designed to purify birth; the completion phase (when everything visualized dissolves back into emptiness) is designed to purify death.]

You are working with enlightened sound (mantra) and light (visualization)—the very first forms that arise out of the dharmakaya. In other words, the sambhogakaya.

Nirmanakaya, Illusory Form, and Dream Yoga: The movement from the sambhogakaya to the fully embodied nirmanakaya is echoed in the Christian tradition when it’s said: “In the beginning was the word [sambhogakaya], and the word was made flesh [nirmanakaya].”

Recognition in the bardo of becoming, which is liberation at the level of the nirmanakaya, is facilitated by dream yoga, illusory form practice, contemplating the absolute bodhichitta slogans in lojong (mind training), and the study of emptiness. This is the bardo where we will spend most of our time. For many people it constitutes their entire bardo experience.

Mind Leads All Things

The important point in the bardos is that the mind leads all things. Mind literally becomes your reality. There’s nothing else.

The closest experience is our dreams, which is why dream yoga is so helpful for death. By realizing that mind becomes reality, we prepare for the bardos by becoming familiar with mind’s wilderness now. Sooner or later we have to face it.

Sogyal Rinpoche says,

“The still revolutionary insight of Buddhism is that life and death are in the mind, and nowhere else. Mind is revealed as the universal basis of experience—the creator of happiness and the creator of suffering, the creator of what we call life and what we call death.” (Sogyal Rinpoche, Glimpse After Glimpse, Janurary 28)

Our relationship to our mind at death is the Buddhist version of “judgment day.” But in Buddhism there’s no one to judge us. We’re judged solely by the level of our familiarity with our mind. Are you prepared to meet your maker? Are you prepared to face your mind when you die?

This is why the bardos are a very charged time.

One poorly timed bad thought, and our attachment to it, can drag us into the lower realms.

One properly timed good thought, and our cultivation of it, can lift us into the higher realms, or even a pure land. This premise forms the basis for the entire Pure Land tradition.

Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche writes:

“[I]t is said that every thought that occurs in the mind, especially if it is watered with intention, is planting a seed for an entire lifetime. If I am sitting here feeling upset … then according to Buddhist tradition I am planting the seed of a rebirth into that realm of irritation. I will be unfolding that thought for who-knows-how-long.”

The six realms of samsara are divided into twenty-seven possible states of existence. [Note: The 27 states comprise four in the formless realms, 17 in the realm of form, and six in the realm of desire.]

Each state of existence is entered by spending time with that respective state of mind now. This cultivates the karma of that state.

For example, if we spend lots of time being angry, we’re becoming familiar with the hell realm whether we know it or not. We are paving our way into hell.

By nurturing higher states of mind, and abstaining from lower states, we are cultivating our eventual rebirth. This is how to prepare for rebirth. Look at your mind. Notice the psychological realms that you inhabit, and you will get a preview of your next life.

Phowa

Phowa, or “transference of consciousness,” is perhaps the most famous of the esoteric practices. It’s principally a Vajrayana method, but there are sutra forms of phowa taught for the general public. [Note: Qualified masters offer Vajrayana phowa transmission and instruction to the public. See Dying with Confidence, by Anyen Rinpoche, 83–91, for tantric instructions on phowa.]

In the bardos, our consciousness habitually transfers into another form whether we like it or not.

Phowa is a voluntary and directed form of transference. Without phowa, consciousness will be transferred by the uncontrollable winds of karma, which may result in an unfortunate rebirth.

Once again, if we don’t take control, karma does. Kalu Rinpoche says:

“The verb powa in Tibetan carries the idea of leaving one place for another.

For example, it is used to mean moving … it is related to a technique used at the moment of death, which allows one to leave the six realms that compose samsara and go to a land of pure manifestation as the Land of Bliss. The person knowing how to apply this meditation can go where he or she wants by directing his or her thought at the right moment to one of the pure lands.”

After we die, consciousness leaves the body from one of nine exits. Where it leaves is not the principal karmic cause for where we will take rebirth, but it is a powerful contributing condition. This exit is something we can control.

We want to direct our consciousness out the top of the head, at a point eight finger-widths behind a normal hairline. This point is called the brahmarandhra (the exit of Brahma), which lies at the top of the central channel of our inner subtle body.

If consciousness transfers through this exit, it will be directed toward rebirth into a pure land. Even if we don’t make it to a pure land, we’re “shooting for the top.” Falling short could mean we take rebirth in a human realm, which is the next best thing.

The success of phowa depends mostly on the weight of our unwholesome mental accumulations (negative karma). They drag us down in life and especially in death.

To facilitate transference, cut your worldly attachments. For example, if you know you’re dying, give everything away.

In a sense, as we age we’re all dying, even if we don’t have a terminal disease. So, lighten your load now. Giving, at any level, is a preparation for phowa.

Look at the way many spiritual masters live. Their possessions amount to nothing, and so do the ties that bind them.

In Tibetan, the word for “body” is lu, which is sometimes translated as “something you leave behind,” like baggage. The logic is simple: lighten the load on your mind so you can easily move it. Drop any excess baggage.

In addition to giving your physical possessions away, as death approaches you can make mental offerings with the intent to benefit others. Imagine giving things away, or emphasize the sending part of tonglen.

For Vajrayana students, this is the essence of the mandala offering, which represents offering the universe. The problem after death is a weight problem. The spiritual path is the diet. Now is not the time to latch on to things and thoughts, creating a burden for your mind. Now is the time to let go and travel light.

Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche empowers the practice of bodhichitta in this regard:

“Bodhichitta is our lightest mind. It’s light because it lacks the reference point of self.”

A selfish mind is our heaviest mind, the anchor that holds us back in life or death. A selfless mind is light as a feather and easily moves forward.

This is why the Dalai Lama says, “At the moment of death, I will meditate on bodhichitta. It will help me continue on my way to enlightenment.”

Enlightenment is such a beautiful word, with many implications. Here it implies the need to lighten up.

Phowa is also one of the best practices for the post-death bardos.

To convey its power and importance, consider these statements: from Buddha Vajradhara, the primordial Buddha:

“You might have killed a brahmin every day,

Or committed the five acts with immediate retribution,

But once you encounter these instructions, You will, beyond any doubt, be liberated.

Tilopa, the father of the Kagyu lineage:

“Phowa is the only method in the dharma where a being can be liberated without profound meditation experience.”

Padmasambhava, the tantric Buddha, said: “Everyone knows about Buddhahood through meditation, but I know a path without meditation [phowa].”

Naropa, supreme scholar-practitioner, said: The nine openings open on samsara,

But one opening opens up to Mahamudra [enlightenment].

Close the nine [sic] openings and open up the one;

Do not doubt that it leads to liberation.”

Milarepa said: These instructions which blend, transfer, and link,

Are the essential guide to overcoming the intermediate state.

Is there anyone with such a path?

How happy the person whose life-energy enters the central channel—

How wonderful! He arrives in absolute space!

Patrul Rinpoche said:

Unlike the other practices … these instructions on the profound path of transference do not require a long training period. Signs of success will definitely come after one week. That is why the method is called ‘the teaching that brings Buddhahood without any meditation,’ and that is why everyone should take this unsurpassable shortcut as their daily practice.

And finally, Lama Yeshe says:

[W]e call transference of consciousness a super method. Even a person who has done incredibly negative things … can say goodbye to all his negativity if he uses this method perfectly at the time of death and dies with a clean clear mind. Since death really is a kind of final destination, we have to make sure we’re clean clear at that time. If we can, that’s our insurance for a perfect next life.

Insurance Dharma

Even for someone well versed, this rich array of practices can be intimidating. Which one do we emphasize? How many should we do? How well do we have to do it?

As death approaches, rely on the practice with which you are most familiar. It’s like staying with an old friend. Take refuge in your favorite meditation, or recite your favorite mantra. Stability, relaxation, and peace of mind are all you really need. From an absolute perspective, remember this Taoist adage: by doing nothing, nothing is left undone.

But doing nothing is often the hardest thing to do. These practices give us something to hold on to at a time when everything is slipping away.

The Third Dodrupchen Rinpoche says:

At the actual time of death, it might be very hard to gather any mental ability to start a meditation. So, you must choose a meditation in advance and marry your mind with it, as much as you can … think again and again, “At the time of death, I will not let myself be involved with any negative thoughts.” In order to achieve meditative clarity and peace in your mind, it is important to meditate again and again, well before the arrival of death. Then, when the time of death arrives, you will be able to die with the right mental qualities.

We want to be protected from the pollution of the confused mind when we die.

Mantras, literally “mind protectors,” also provide this armor. The mantras, OM MANI PADME HUM and OM AMIDEWA HRIH, are two of the best.

Another form of protection is to listen to your favorite teaching as you die. This doesn’t give negative thoughts a chance to arise, and connects you to your guru.

As Sogyal Rinpoche says, “The teachings are louder than your thoughts.” Allow your mind to be captured by wisdom, not confusion.

Phowa, Pure Land, and the bardo teachings are insurance dharma.

If your main practice is stable, you don’t need this insurance. Many masters rarely teach these adjunct methods because proficiency in the main practices naturally extends into the bardos.

The main practices vary according to your teacher or lineage, but they are usually shamatha, vipashyana, and bodhichitta.

For Tibetan Buddhists, deity yoga, guru yoga, and mahamudra or dzogchen are emphasized. Dzogchen (“great perfection”), like mahamudra, is one of the highest teachings in Tibetan Buddhism. It describes the enlightened mind and how to realize it.

But phowa, Pure Land, and the bardo teachings are there to catch us if we fall. They’re in the tradition for a reason and have been taught by countless masters for centuries. If everything else fails in the bardo, it’s nice to know we have these emergency teachings in our pocket.

The mystic Abraham a Sancta Clara states: “If you die before you die, then when you die you will not die.” If you can “die,” or let go of your ego now, then when you physically die you will not die—because you’re already “dead.” You’ve let go to the point that you discover the formless dharmakaya (dharmata) during life.

Anam Thubten Rinpoche says,

“After death [of ego] you become fully alive. If you want to live fully, you first have to die. Only a dead man has nothing to lose and nothing to gain.” Rinpoche is not talking about the bardos here, but his words apply directly to them.

Some commentary may be inserted to connect his words to the bardos: People always ask me what it means to be a Buddhist. My reply is, “It means being nobody” [resting in the bardo of dharmata, our egoless true nature].

The true spiritual path is not about becoming. It is about not becoming. [It’s not about endless rebirth via the bardo of becoming, it’s about staying with the deathless dharmata.]

When we let go of this futile effort to be or become somebody, freedom and enlightenment take care of themselves. [We remain in the dharmata, as no-body, and don’t fall into the bardo of becoming somebody.]

We see that we are inherently divine already [the truth of our dharmata nature] and we are enchanted to see how effortlessly liberation unfolds [we only have to let go, and die into our true nature—we only have to relax]. . . . One has to allow this illusory self to die again and again. This death is deeper than physical death. This death allows all of our anguish to dissolve forever. It is not the end of something. It is the beginning of a life where the flower of love and intelligence blossoms. (Anam Thubten, No Self, No Problem, 43, 49.)

Become familiar with your deathless nature now, and you will recognize it at death. You will become egoless before you’re forced to do so, and therefore the child luminosity will easily recognize its mother.

Final Advice

This section ens with the main verses from The Tibetan Book of the Dead, and summary advice for what to do before death.

Since the bardo of this life, which is where preparation for the death bardos occurs, includes the bardos of dream and meditation, there are three central instructions from The Tibetan Book of the Dead:

[Note: By way of review, in addition to the three death bardos, there are three bardos related to life: (1) the bardo of living, (2) the bardo of dream, and (3) the bardo of meditation. We are always in a bardo, always between two different states of consciousness.]  

Now when the bardo of birth is dawning upon me,

I will abandon laziness for which life has no time,

enter the undistracted path of study, reflection, and meditation,

making projections and mind the path, and realize the three kayas;

now that I have once attained a human body,

there is no time on the path for the mind to wander.

Now when the bardo of dreams is dawning upon me,

I will abandon the corpse-like sleep of careless ignorance,

and let my thoughts enter their natural state without distraction; controlling and transforming dreams in luminosity,

I will not sleep like any animal

but unify completely sleep and practice.

Now when the bardo of samadhi-meditation dawns upon me,

I will abandon the crowd of distractions and confusions,

and rest in the boundless state without grasping or disturbance;

firm in the two practices: visualization and complete [generation and completion],

at this time of meditation, one-pointed, free from activity,

I will not fall into the power of confused emotions. (The Tibetan Book of the Dead, trans. Francesca Fremantle and Chogyam Trungpa, 98.)

The Buddha taught eighty-four thousand teachings, which can be condensed into the following three lines. Since the dharma altogether is the best preparation for death, this is a good summary:

Do as many good actions as you can.

Avoid as many bad actions as you can.

Tame your mind.

Sogyal Rinpoche summarizes his advice: “At the moment of death, there are two things that count: Whatever we have done in our lives, and what state of mind we are in at that moment … Be free of attachment and aversion. Keep your mind pure. And unite your mind with the Buddha.”

From Andrew Holecek: My own heart-advice is to practice the good heart, which creates good karma. Practice shamatha to stabilize your mind. Let go.

Source: Based on Holecek, Andrew. Preparing to Die. Shambhala. Kindle Edition.

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