The Tibetan Book of the Dead
The Tibetan Book of the Dead¶
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Introduction¶
There is a time between breaths, a quiet pause between the in-breath and the out-breath. In Tibetan tradition, that space is called a bardo—an interval, a threshold, a passageway. Life itself is filled with bardos: the moments between waking and sleeping, between despair and hope, between what was and what is yet to be. The Bardo Thödol, often called The Tibetan Book of the Dead, is a guide for the greatest threshold of all—the passage from life through death into whatever lies beyond.
This text was originally read aloud beside the dying and the dead. Its words are not meant as abstract philosophy, but as direct guidance, like the voice of a trusted companion whispering courage into the ear of one who is traveling on alone. It reminds the soul that even in fearsome visions, there is nothing to fear; even in the face of death, there is only life continuing in another form.
The version you hold here is not a scholarly translation but a devotional rendering, a warm re-telling for modern hearts. The older translations, beautiful though they are, often feel distant with their archaic language. Here, the aim is clarity and compassion. Each section has been gently re-voiced so that it may speak directly to you, the reader, whether you are facing death, grieving someone you love, or simply wanting to live more awake to the passing beauty of each moment.
These teachings are not only for the dying. They are for the living—for you and for me—so that we may learn to meet change with less fear, to let go of what binds us, and to walk with compassion in this fragile, luminous life. Read them slowly. Let them soak into you like prayer. Use them as you sit in silence, as you walk in grief, as you reflect on impermanence, or as you prepare for your own journey one day.
The bardos remind us: nothing is fixed, everything is passage. And within each passage lies the possibility of awakening.
Chapter 1: The Great Doorway¶
Beloved one, listen with the ears of your heart. There is a wisdom so vast it cannot be captured by words — the Boundless Light, the Divine Reality beyond form. To this Light we bow.
There is a wisdom that takes shape as kindness, appearing as peaceful and wrathful guides, who are none other than reflections of the truth within. To these guides we bow.
There is a wisdom that walks among us in human form, a protector who shows the way of freedom. To the teachers and guides who came before, we bow.
This teaching is called the Great Liberation by Hearing. It is medicine for the soul in the in-between states, when the body fades and the spirit is unmoored. Its purpose is freedom — not only for the wise, but for all who hear.
At the threshold of death, one is counseled to recognize the signs of departure: the body grows weak, the breath changes, the senses withdraw. These are not failures — they are signals of passage.
At that moment, remember this: consciousness itself may be set free by simply turning toward the truth. Some will find freedom through great intellect, some through practice, but for all — even for those of “ordinary wit” — this path can open the door.
What It Means¶
The text begins with bowing — not as empty ritual, but as orientation. Before the vast mystery of death, we acknowledge what is greater than us: the Light beyond comprehension, the guides who embody compassion in countless forms, and the teachers who preserved this wisdom.
The promise is simple yet profound: hearing truth can set one free. Even at death, when all else falls away, remembering — even dimly — can bring release.
This opening also reassures us: liberation is not only for the saints or scholars. It is for the ordinary. For you. For me. The journey through the bardo is not a test to pass, but an invitation to listen, trust, and remember.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes. Imagine standing at a doorway. Behind you is a familiar room — life, with all its joys and burdens. Before you lies a great horizon of light you cannot yet name. Whisper within:
When the thresholds of life come, may I not fear.
When the signs of change appear, may I remember the Light.
Liberation is not far, not reserved for the wise.
It is here, as close as my own hearing.
Chapter 2: The Reading of the Words¶
If, at the moment of death, one is already liberated, there is no need for this book. But if not, then let these words be read with care and with love.
Let them be read clearly, distinctly, as though the one who has departed were sitting right here, listening. Even if the body is gone, sit where they once sat, and imagine their presence. Speak to them as if they are still near, because they are.
Let there be no wailing, no sorrowful outcry — for such sounds can confuse and disturb the spirit. Instead, let the room be still, filled with quiet compassion.
The reading may be done by a teacher, a trusted friend, or someone who held the heart of the departed. Let the words be spoken close to the ear, not as a formality, but as a whisper of guidance.
If offerings can be made, let them be offered. If not, let the offering be the heart’s devotion, infinite in its sincerity. Let prayers of good wishes be spoken, not once, but many times, invoking protection, safety, and courage.
Thus begins the Great Liberation by Hearing:
- first, to guide the soul at the moment of death,
- second, to set them face-to-face with Reality in the bardo,
- and third, to guide them safely when new birth approaches.
What It Means¶
This section makes something clear: the Thödol is not just a text to be studied. It is a companion for the soul in passage. It is meant to be read aloud, with tenderness, as though love itself were speaking.
Notice how practical the instructions are: read distinctly, imagine the spirit listening, restrain tears. These are not about ritual for its own sake, but about creating a calm, supportive field so the soul can hear what it most needs.
There’s also a profound reminder: even if elaborate offerings are not possible, the heart’s intention is enough. Infinite devotion can be imagined and offered with the mind alone. Liberation does not depend on wealth, only sincerity.
Reflection¶
Imagine you are reading words of comfort to someone you love — not only at death, but whenever they feel lost or afraid. Feel the care in your tone, the compassion in your heart. This is the essence of the Thödol: love spoken aloud. Whisper this prayer:
May I learn to speak words that liberate.
May I learn to comfort, not confuse.
When others pass through fear,
may my voice be a lamp that guides them home.
Chapter 3: The Signs of Departure¶
Beloved one, the moment has come. The breath is fading, the body loosens its hold, and you stand at the very threshold between worlds.
At this moment, a great radiance opens before you — the Clear Light, the essence of your own true nature. It is vast, luminous, unborn. Nothing can contain it. Nothing can harm it.
If you have practiced remembering this truth in life, then recognition will be easy. If not, do not fear. Even hearing these words now can stir your memory, reminding you of what you already carry within.
Let a trusted guide or a friend read these words near you, distinctly, with care. Their voice will be a mirror to help you see what is already present.
When the breath has ceased, the vital force gathers in the heart of wisdom. The knowing self shines for a moment, bright and clear. This is the opportunity. If you can rest in that recognition, you will be liberated into the radiant body of truth itself.
Therefore, hear these words: O noble soul, beloved one, the time has come to walk the path in reality. Your breathing is about to cease. The light you have glimpsed before is shining fully now. Do not fear. Do not turn away. Rest in the Light, and be free.
What It Means¶
The teaching here describes the dissolution at death — not as a tragedy, but as a moment of unveiling. When the senses close, the mind is revealed in its most naked form: luminous, clear, and vast.
This Clear Light is not foreign. It is the same essence we touch in deep meditation, in love, in awe before beauty. The difference at death is that all distractions fall away, leaving only the light itself.
The text reassures us that even if practice has been weak, even if memory falters, hearing the words in that moment can awaken recognition. It is a mercy: liberation is always possible, even at the last breath.
Reflection¶
Sit quietly. Close your eyes. Imagine your last breath leaving the body, and in its place a great radiance dawning before you — not outside, but within. Say softly:
When the time of death comes, may I remember the Light.
When fear arises, may I rest in trust.
The Light is not apart from me; it is my very being.
In that recognition, may I be free.
Chapter 4: The Clear Light Appears¶
Beloved one, the moment has come when the Clear Light shines in its fullness. It is vast and open, like the cloudless sky — no center, no edge, only luminous stillness. Your own mind, naked and pure, is revealed as this Light.
At this moment, know yourself. Rest here. Do not turn away. This is your true nature, the radiance you have always carried.
These words are spoken to you now, face to face, so that you may remember. Listen deeply: the Light is not outside you — it is what you are.
As the breath falters, let the body rest in the posture of the lion, lying on the right side. Let the vital force rise through the crown, carrying you upward into the radiant freedom.
For some, this state may last only the time it takes to snap a finger. For others, it may last as long as a meal, or even for days. However long it remains, know this: the opportunity is here. All beings experience this Clear Light, but few recognize it. Recognition is freedom.
So hear these words, again and again, until they echo within you: Beloved soul, the Clear Light is before you. Do not fear. Do not look away. Abide in it, and you will be free.
What It Means¶
Here we are told the most profound truth: at death, every being meets the Light of Reality. It is not a gift reserved for saints, nor something to be earned — it is simply the nature of mind, unveiled when the body falls away.
The tragedy is not that people fail to meet it, but that they fail to recognize it. Just as the sun can shine but be ignored by eyes fixed on the ground, so too the Light can blaze without being noticed.
This is why repetition matters — the gentle persistence of loved ones reading these words, the steady reminder: You are the Light.
It is also why practice in life matters. Every moment we pause in silence, every time we rest in presence, we are rehearsing recognition. Dying does not create the Light — it simply uncovers what was always there.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes and imagine a sky without clouds, endless and clear. Imagine your own mind as that sky — open, spacious, radiant. Whisper softly:
The Light is my nature.
It is always here.
When death comes, may I remember.
When fear comes, may I rest in the sky of my own being.
Chapter 5: The Radiance of Compassion¶
Beloved one, the final dissolutions are upon you. Earth sinks into water, water into fire, fire into air, and air into space. The body fades, and the mind opens to the vast expanse.
At this moment, keep your mind steady. Do not be distracted. Listen: O noble soul, this is the hour of death. By entering this passage, may you awaken for the good of all beings. Resolve with love and compassion: “May this very death become the doorway to Buddhahood. May I use it to serve every being, as countless as the sky.”
Even if full awakening is beyond reach, hold this vow: “I will master the in-between state. I will take whatever form may help others. I will not turn away from compassion.”
Now, as the Clear Light shines, recognize it. Your own mind, naked and luminous, is not a void of nothingness but a living radiance — unobstructed, blissful, and free. This very consciousness is the Buddha, the All-Good.
Know this truth: your awareness and the radiant Light are not two. They are one union, the body of Perfect Enlightenment itself.
What It Means¶
Here the text adds something profound: dying is not only an opportunity for personal liberation, but for the flowering of compassion. The instruction is to meet death not with fear or grasping, but with a vow to awaken for the sake of others.
This shifts the whole meaning of death. It is not merely about one’s own fate, but about love without limits. The dying soul is reminded: You are not a flickering candle being snuffed out, but the very light itself, inseparable from the source of all goodness.
Even if recognition is partial, even if the Clear Light is not fully realized, this compassionate resolve plants the deepest seed. It is the heart’s offering, strong enough to shape the journey ahead.
Reflection¶
Sit quietly and place your hand over your heart. Imagine your last breath leaving, and in its place a vast radiance opening. In that radiance, let compassion arise. Whisper within:
May this life, and even my death, serve all beings.
May I awaken, not for myself alone, but for love without measure.
My mind and the Light are one.
In this union, there is no fear, only freedom.
Chapter 6: The Secondary Light¶
Beloved one, your own consciousness — radiant, open, inseparable from the Great Body of Light — has no birth and no death. It is the unchanging radiance, the Buddha Amitābha. To recognize this is enough.
Repeat this truth, again and again: Your mind is the Light. The Light is your mind. You are already the radiance of Buddhahood. Hearing these words clearly, three times or seven times, may awaken recognition. In that recognition, liberation is certain.
But if the first Light was not recognized, take heart: another dawn arises. This is the Secondary Clear Light, appearing after the breath has ceased.
Now, the mind emerges from the body. A thought arises: “Am I dead, or am I not?” You see your loved ones as before. You hear their voices and even their weeping. Yet something has changed — you are no longer bound by the body.
During this time, the soul should be called by name, and gently reminded: O noble soul, turn your mind toward the Light. Remember the instructions you have heard. Do not be distracted.
If in life you had a sacred image or deity who guided your practice, bring it to mind now. Meditate upon your guide as though you see them clearly, like the reflection of the moon in water — visible, yet without substance. Hold steady, and rest your heart there.
What It Means¶
This passage is tender because it meets the soul in confusion. Death has come, but it does not yet feel final. The spirit hovers, uncertain, still attached to familiar sights and sounds.
The teaching reassures: this too is an opportunity. Even if the Primary Light was missed, the Secondary Light offers another chance. It is softer, gentler, but still radiant.
The instruction to call the departed by name and remind them of their practice shows how personal this moment is. Liberation is not abstract; it is relational. The voice of a trusted friend, the memory of a beloved image, the echo of prayers repeated in life — these are anchors for the wandering mind.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes. Imagine that you awaken from a dream and are not sure if you are alive or not. You see familiar faces, you hear sounds, but something feels different — lighter, less solid. In that moment, remember:
My mind is radiant Light.
Even if I am confused, I will not forget.
May my practice, my prayers, and my love
carry me into freedom.
Chapter 7: The Gentle Reminder¶
Beloved one, if you cannot hold your mind on the subtle Light, then turn it now to compassion. Meditate upon the Great Compassionate One — the Lord of Mercy whose heart embraces all beings. Even a single moment of turning toward compassion can bring recognition of the truth.
Know this: many who once heard these teachings may not be able to remember them now. Some are confused by illness, some are shaken by fear, some are burdened by broken vows or neglected duties. To all such ones, this gentle reminder is essential.
Even if you missed the first opportunity, this second dawning still offers freedom. At this stage your form is like an illusory body of light — shimmering, subtle, not yet bound. You may not know whether you are alive or dead, but your awareness is clear.
Hear this truth: When the Clear Light meets your awareness, like the meeting of mother and child, karma has no hold. Like sunlight dispelling darkness, the Light on the Path dissolves the chains of past actions.
Therefore, listen well: do not wander, do not be distracted. Abide in the Light, and let yourself be carried into freedom.
What It Means¶
This passage shows immense tenderness. It admits that most of us, in the chaos of death, will be forgetful. Fear, pain, or guilt may overwhelm even those who practiced in life. Yet the teaching insists: liberation is still possible.
The key is remembrance, often with the help of another’s voice. The instruction to meditate on compassion is not a fallback — it is the heart of the path. To turn to compassion, even when confused, is to align with the Light itself.
The imagery of the “illusory body” is powerful. After death, the soul is not bound as before; it is light-filled, hovering near what it loved. In this delicate state, a gentle reminder can make all the difference, opening the way before karmic visions take hold.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes and imagine yourself unsure — not knowing if you are alive or gone. In that uncertainty, imagine a voice of kindness calling you back to compassion. Whisper softly:
When confusion comes, may compassion guide me.
When fear grips me, may mercy free me.
Even in forgetfulness, may a gentle reminder
return me to the Light.
Chapter 8: Entering the Bardo of Reality¶
Beloved one, you have been given the Light once — perhaps twice — and still you wander. Now a new stage dawns: the Bardo of the Experiencing of Reality. Here the world of appearances rises like a theatre of sound and light. Karmic visions will shine — sometimes gentle, sometimes terrifying — and the mind may be bewildered.
Listen closely. There are six kinds of bardos in the whole weave of life and death: the bardo of the womb, the bardo of dreams, the bardo of deep meditative equipoise, the bardo of the moment of death, the bardo of experiencing reality (this one), and the bardo that leads toward rebirth. You have just passed the moment of death; now you enter the Chönyid Bardo and, after that, the Sidpa Bardo.
Do not be surprised by what you see. You will notice household sounds — food being prepared, clothes taken away, the sorrow of friends. You will hear your name and yet feel unseen. Do not cling in confusion. Do not be drawn back by grief or attachment; such pulling will only lead to wandering in samsāra. Hear these words as if they were spoken into the ear of your own heart: this is not the place to grasp. Hold steady. Attend.
If you are near, call the beloved by name and speak with loving clarity: explain that this is the Chönyid Bardo, and urge the mind to listen and remain undistracted. Remind them gently to remember the Precious Three — the teachers, the truth, the path — and to refrain from clinging to the scenes that arise.
What It Means¶
This section prepares us for the most confusing part of the journey. After the clear dawn of the Light, the mind often drifts into a cascade of images and sensations — the very contents of one’s life and the echoes of habit. These karmic apparitions can dazzle or terrify. They are not ultimately real; they are appearances shaped by habit, fear, and desire.
Naming the six bardos is a compassionate map. It reassures the traveler that the current experience is one stage among many — not the final verdict. The repeated instruction to not cling is practical and gentle: attachment is the force that tethers consciousness back into cycles of becoming. The antidote is attention — steady, loving, and undistracted.
Notice how the text instructs loved ones to call the departed by name. This is not superstition; it is relational aid. A familiar voice, a remembered practice, a clear instruction — these anchor the mind and give it a foothold away from panic and toward recognition.
Reflection¶
Sit for a moment and breathe slowly. Imagine sounds and images washing around you like waves. Practice being the witness of those waves without diving into any one of them. Whisper or breathe this little prayer:
This is a passage, not a prison.
May I not cling to shadows.
May loving speech and steady attention guide me into the Light.
When illusions rise, may I remember my true home.
Chapter 9: Sounds, Lights, and Rays¶
Beloved one, whatever fear or awe may come to you now in the Bardo, remember these words:
When strange visions dawn,
May I see them as my own mind’s reflections.
When radiant beings appear,
May I know them as my thought-forms.
When great sounds roll like thunder,
May I recognize them as my very self.
When Light blazes forth,
May I not be afraid. May I rest in its embrace.
When your body and mind separated, you glimpsed a radiance — dazzling, sparkling, like a spring mirage shimmering across a field. Do not be afraid of this brilliance. It is the radiance of your own true nature.
From the midst of that light comes a great sound, reverberating like thousands of thunders at once. Do not be awed or daunted — this, too, is your own true voice, the sound of Reality itself.
Remember: the body you have now is a body of thought. You cannot be harmed. Sounds, lights, and rays cannot wound you. They are your own forms. Recognize this: this is the Bardo.
If you do not recognize, then fear may overwhelm you. The lights may daunt, the sounds may terrify, and you will wander again in the circles of becoming. But if you remember, you are free.
What It Means¶
This passage reveals the great key of the Bardo: recognition.
The visions of light and sound are not external forces. They are the play of your own mind — dazzling, radiant, sometimes terrifying, but not other than you. This is why the teaching insists: do not fear. Fear arises only when we forget that what we see and hear is our own reflection.
This teaching also shows us how the after-death journey mirrors life. How often do we, in life, become afraid of our own thoughts, our own emotions, our own creations? How often do we believe them to be “other,” when they are born within? The practice of remembering this truth now is a preparation for remembering it then.
The sounds, lights, and rays are not enemies. They are invitations — mirrors pointing us back to the radiance of our own being.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes and imagine dazzling lights flashing, colors vivid, sounds booming like thunder. Instead of recoiling, breathe and whisper:
These are my own reflections.
This is my own light.
Nothing here can harm me.
In recognition, I am free.
Chapter 10: The First Day — The Blue Light of Vairochana¶
Beloved one, you have lain in a swoon for three and a half days. Now you awaken and wonder: “What has happened to me?” Know this — you are in the Bardo. Do not be distracted.
The heavens now turn a deep and radiant blue. From the central realm, the seed of all manifestation, appears Vairochana — white in color, seated on a lion throne, holding the eight-spoked wheel of truth, embraced by the Mother of Infinite Space.
From the heart of this Father-Mother union shines the brilliant blue light of Dharma-Dhātu Wisdom. It is dazzling, clear, radiant beyond measure, almost too intense to gaze upon. Alongside it appears another light: a dull white glow, the light of the gods of desire, soft and enticing.
Because of habit and karma, you may feel afraid of the blazing blue light and drawn to the gentle dull glow. Do not be fooled. The blue light is the Light of Truth, the wisdom of Vairochana, who comes to meet you in this hour.
Therefore, hear these words: Do not fear the brilliant radiance. Do not shrink from it. Place your trust in it completely. Pray with your whole heart, saying:
Alas! When wandering in samsāra, through my ignorance and forgetfulness,
May I be led by the radiant blue light of Dharma-Dhātu Wisdom.
May Vairochana shine before me, and the Mother of Infinite Space guard my back.
May I cross safely through the ambush of the Bardo.
May I awaken into the perfect Buddhahood of the Central Realm.
If you hold this prayer with humble faith, you will merge into the radiant halo of Vairochana and attain freedom in the realm of perfect light.
What It Means¶
This first encounter with the Peaceful Deities is the pattern for all that follow: a dazzling light of truth appears side by side with a softer, karmically conditioned light. The blazing light is liberation; the soft light is seduction into rebirth.
The text warns us of our usual tendencies. We are often afraid of what is vast, bright, and overwhelming, and instead choose the comfortable and familiar, even if it keeps us bound. Here, the soul must learn to turn toward what feels too intense — the radiance of awakening — and resist the pull of comfort that leads back into cycles of suffering.
Vairochana represents the wisdom of the dharmadhātu — the truth that all things arise and dissolve within the infinite space of being. To recognize this wisdom is to recognize the ground of reality itself.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes. Imagine a deep, radiant blue light filling the sky before you — so bright it almost frightens you. Beside it is a softer, more familiar glow that seems comforting. Whisper:
When faced with the Light of Truth, may I not turn away.
When tempted by comfort that binds me, may I let go.
May I walk into the dazzling blue radiance,
And awaken in the heart of wisdom.
Chapter 11: The Second Day — The White Light of Vajrasattva¶
Beloved one, if you could not recognize the blue light of Vairochana, another chance now arises. On the Second Day, a new radiance dawns.
From the deep-blue Eastern Realm of Supreme Happiness appears Vajrasattva — also known as Akṣobhya — blue in color, seated upon an elephant throne, holding the five-pronged dorje of unshakable truth, embraced by the Mother Māmakī. With them are four attendants: the bodhisattvas Kṣitigarbha and Maitreya, and the female bodhisattvas Lasema and Puṣhpema. Six radiant beings surround you with compassion.
From their heart shines the brilliant white light of Mirror-like Wisdom — dazzling, transparent, impossible to look upon directly, yet pure and liberating. Alongside it, another light appears: a dull, smoky glow, the path of hell born from anger.
Because of old habits, you may shrink from the radiant white light, startled by its brilliance, and instead feel a strange pull toward the smoky haze. Do not be deceived. That haze is the snare of anger; if you follow it, you will fall into the suffering worlds of hell.
Instead, hear these words: Do not fear the dazzling white light. It is the grace of Vajrasattva shining upon you. Rest in it with faith and humility, and pray:
Alas! Wandering in the cycle of birth and death through violent anger,
May I be led by the radiant white path of Mirror-like Wisdom.
May the Bhagavān Vajrasattva shine before me,
May the Divine Mother Māmakī guard my back.
May I cross safely the fearful ambush of the Bardo,
And awaken into the All-Perfect Buddhahood of the Eastern Realm.
Pray thus with your whole heart, and you will merge into the rainbow radiance of Vajrasattva, attaining freedom in the realm of joy.
What It Means¶
This stage reveals the pull of anger. The teaching shows how destructive habits appear not only in life, but after death. Anger clouds the vision and makes the soul recoil from the brilliance of truth. Out of fear, we may choose what feels easier — the smoky, familiar light — even if it leads to suffering.
The instruction is clear: resist the pull of anger. Do not shrink from brilliance. The white light of Vajrasattva is Mirror-like Wisdom — the truth that all things reflect without distortion when seen clearly. To rest in that wisdom is to see reality as it is, beyond judgment or reaction.
The image of Vajrasattva with his companions is meant to steady the mind. Surrounded by these compassionate presences, the soul is not alone. Their light is not to be feared, but embraced.
Reflection¶
Take a breath and remember a time when anger made you recoil from truth, preferring something easier but less true. Whisper within:
When anger clouds my vision, may I not turn away.
When smoky shadows tempt me, may I not be deceived.
May I rest in the radiant white light of wisdom,
And awaken into clarity and peace.
Chapter 12: The Third Day — The Yellow Light of Ratna-Sambhava¶
Beloved one, even when the bright lights have come to meet you, old habits can still pull you away. Pride and the weight of past patterns may make you afraid of the dazzling truth, and instead you may reach for what is familiar.
On the Third Day, a radiant yellow light appears from the South. From that realm comes Ratna-Sambhava, bearing a jewel, seated on a horse-throne and embraced by the Divine Mother Sangyay-Chanma. Around him are compassionate attendants — bodhisattvas and female companions — and their light forms a rainbow halo.
From Ratna-Sambhava’s heart shoots the yellow light of Equality Wisdom — the wisdom of touch, of feeling things as they are without grasping. It is clear, glorious, and so bright that it almost overwhelms the eyes. Beside it there will also be a dull bluish-yellow glow — the pull of the human world, shaped by pride and self-importance.
Do not be startled by the shining yellow. It is not something to flee from. Know it as Wisdom. Trust it. Make this simple resolve: “If this is the radiance of my own mind, I rest in it; if not, I take refuge in the grace of Ratna-Sambhava.”
If you reach for the dull human light instead — if you let pride and ego draw you back — you will be pulled toward rebirth into human suffering. But if you meet the yellow brilliance with humility and focused devotion, you will merge into its radiance and awaken.
What It Means¶
This day shows a familiar theme in the Bardo: liberation requires not only seeing the Light, but choosing it over habit. Ratna-Sambhava’s yellow radiance represents the wisdom that sees equality — the way things feel, touch, and interrelate without exaggeration, without pride. Pride, however, disguises itself as a kind of worthiness that clings to identity; it can make us prefer a lesser, familiar comfort to the greater truth.
The text offers a practical remedy: either recognize the light as your own mind, or intentionally take refuge in it as a compassionate other. Either way, humility and focused trust are the keys. This is not intellectual humility alone but a heart-level loosening of the ego’s grip.
The danger of choosing the human light is literal: it draws you back into birth, age, sickness, and death — the whole cycle you sought freedom from. The teaching is urgent because these choices, once made, have consequences.
Reflection¶
Sit comfortably. Breathe slowly and picture a brilliant yellow light like the sun on a field of grain. Beside it is a muted blue-yellow glow that seems familiar and safe. Breathe and say quietly:
When pride whispers, may I choose humility.
When the familiar calls me back, may I choose the greater Light.
May my heart take refuge in the wisdom that sees all things as equal,
and may I be led safely across the Bardo.
Chapter 13: The Fourth Day — The Red Light of Amitābha¶
Beloved one, even if the path has been shown again and again, some still turn away. Old habits, vows broken, covetousness, and attachment cloud the vision. When clinging grips the heart, even the sounds and lights of wisdom may feel frightening.
On the Fourth Day, the red light of fire dawns. From the Western Realm of Bliss appears the Buddha Amitābha, radiant red, seated upon a peacock throne, holding the lotus of compassion, embraced by the Divine Mother Gökarmo. With them shine the bodhisattvas Chenrazee (Avalokiteśvara) and Jampal (Mañjuśrī), and the female companions Ghirdhima and Āloke — six radiant beings, surrounded by a rainbow halo of light.
From their heart streams the brilliant red light of Discriminating Wisdom, glittering, dazzling, bright beyond measure. It strikes directly into your heart, too radiant to gaze upon. Alongside it glimmers a dull, murky red glow: the light of the hungry ghosts, the Pretas, born of attachment and greed.
Because of clinging desire, you may shrink from the bright red brilliance and turn instead toward the softer, dull glow. But beware: that glow leads into the realm of craving and unquenchable thirst. There, endless hunger and longing await.
Therefore, listen well: Do not be afraid of the blazing red light. It is your own wisdom, shining. Recognize it, merge with it, and you will awaken. If recognition feels beyond you, then turn humbly to Amitābha, praying:
Alas! Wandering in samsāra through the power of attachment,
On the radiant red path of Discriminating Wisdom,
May I be led by the Buddha Amitābha.
May the Divine Mother Gökarmo guard my back.
May I cross safely through the fearful ambush of the Bardo,
And awaken in the perfect Buddhahood of the Western Realm.
What It Means¶
This day reveals the danger of attachment. In life, craving and clinging distort perception; in the Bardo, they take shape as an almost irresistible pull toward the hungry ghost light.
The red light of Amitābha is not a threat but a gift. It is the wisdom that discerns each thing clearly, without confusion. It shows the uniqueness of every being, not to grasp at it, but to honor it. Yet, to the mind still bound by craving, this clarity can feel too intense, almost painful.
The dull red glow seems comforting, but it is the trap of desire itself. It pulls the soul into the realm of Pretas, where thirst and hunger are never satisfied. The teaching is blunt: turn away from it. Do not settle for the glow of craving when the radiance of liberation is before you.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes. Picture before you two lights: one brilliant, dazzling red like the heart of a flame; the other dull, dim, and murky, whispering comfort. Breathe and whisper:
When craving calls me back, may I not be deceived.
When attachment stirs, may I let go.
May I walk into the blazing red light of wisdom,
And awaken in compassion’s embrace.
Chapter 14: The Fifth Day — The Green Light of Amogha-Siddhi¶
Beloved one, even when liberation is close, old habits of jealousy and rivalry can obscure your vision. If these bind you still, then on the Fifth Day another light will dawn.
From the Northern Realm of Accomplished Deeds appears Amogha-Siddhi, the Buddha of all-pervading action. His body glows green, he bears the crossed dorje of unshakable power, and he sits upon a sky-borne throne of Garuḍa wings. At his side is the Divine Mother, the faithful Tārā, radiant with compassion. With them shine the bodhisattvas Chag-na-Dorje and Dibpanamsel, and the female companions Gandhema and Nidhema. Together, six beings appear in a rainbow halo of light.
From their heart streams the green light of All-Performing Wisdom — dazzling, radiant, transparent, striking your heart with a brilliance almost too great to endure. This is your own wisdom, shining as the power to act with clarity and compassion. Do not fear it. Rest in it with impartiality.
Alongside it glimmers another light: a dull, murky green glow, the path of the jealous asura realm. Born of rivalry and comparison, it tempts the heart with conflict. Do not be deceived. If you follow it, you will fall into the world of constant strife, where beings are trapped in endless battles, forever unsatisfied.
Therefore, listen well: do not recoil from the brilliant green radiance. Trust it, even if it feels overwhelming. Place your whole mind on Amogha-Siddhi and Tārā, and pray:
Alas! When wandering in samsāra through jealousy and rivalry,
On the radiant path of All-Performing Wisdom,
May I be led by Amogha-Siddhi.
May the Divine Mother Tārā guard my back.
May I cross safely through the ambush of the Bardo,
And awaken in the perfect Buddhahood of the Northern Realm.
If you pray with humility and deep trust, you will merge into the rainbow halo of Amogha-Siddhi and attain awakening.
What It Means¶
The Fifth Day reveals how jealousy blinds the soul. The green radiance is the wisdom of enlightened action — the clarity that knows what to do, and how to serve, without hesitation. But jealousy twists action into rivalry: we compare, compete, and struggle for status.
In the Bardo, this distortion appears as attraction to the asura light: the realm of conflict, where beings live in constant combat, never satisfied, always striving. The teaching warns that if you follow that path, you inherit endless struggle.
The remedy is impartiality. The text instructs the soul to rest in a state of evenness, not pushed by fear nor pulled by attraction. This balance allows the wisdom of action to shine, transforming impulse into compassionate power.
Reflection¶
Take a breath and recall a moment when jealousy clouded your joy — when you could not rejoice in another’s success, but felt comparison rise in your chest. Now picture before you a dazzling green light, radiant and clear, alongside a murky green glow whispering rivalry. Whisper softly:
When jealousy rises, may I not be pulled away.
When rivalry tempts, may I let it pass.
May I rest in the dazzling green radiance of wisdom,
And act with clarity, compassion, and peace.
Chapter 15: The Sixth Day — The Union of All Lights¶
Beloved one, you have been set face to face with many lights, day after day. Each one was an open door, yet old habits, fear, or awe may have turned you aside. Still, even now, liberation is possible.
On the Sixth Day, all the radiant deities appear together. The Five Buddhas with their Divine Consorts — Vairochana, Vajrasattva, Ratnasambhava, Amitābha, and Amogha-Siddhi — come shining at once, each with their attendants, in rainbow halos of dazzling light.
Around them stand the wrathful guardians, the door-keepers with fierce forms and their companions, holding goads, chains, nooses, and bells. They too shine, not as enemies, but as protectors. With them appear the Buddhas of the six realms: of gods, of asuras, of humans, of animals, of hungry ghosts, and of the lower world — each bearing their aspect of truth.
Beyond them all, the All-Good Father Samantabhadra and the All-Good Mother Samantabhadrī radiate forth — the primordial source of all the Buddhas.
Forty-two deities now shine upon you in a great conclave of light. Know this: none of them come from outside. They all arise from within your own heart. They are your own thought-forms, your own wisdom, your own love, given shape.
The light they emit is subtle, clear, radiant, like sunlight spun into threads, striking against your heart.
What It Means¶
This day is both the most overwhelming and the most revealing. All the deities — peaceful and wrathful, serene and fierce — appear together. It is the great unveiling: the recognition that every divine form, every sound, every light, is a manifestation of your own innermost nature.
The teaching insists: nothing comes from outside. The vast assembly of Buddhas and guardians is not foreign. They are your own mind’s radiant display. To recognize this is to know that all appearances — bright or terrifying — are inseparable from your true self.
The fierce forms remind us of the energies we often repress or fear in life. In the Bardo, they return, not to harm, but to awaken. They are the same radiance as the peaceful Buddhas, wearing masks of intensity to break through resistance.
The instruction here is simple and profound: Do not be afraid. Recognize all these forms as your own mind. Rest in the union of all wisdoms, and you will be free.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes and imagine yourself surrounded by a vast circle of light-beings — peaceful and fierce, gentle and powerful. Let them dazzle you, but do not shrink away. Instead, place your hand on your heart. Whisper gently:
All these forms arise within me.
None come from outside.
Peaceful and wrathful, fierce and gentle,
all are radiance of my own heart.
May I recognize them as such,
and rest in the union of all wisdoms.
Chapter 16: The Seventh Day — The Four Wisdom Lights¶
Beloved one, now the radiances grow more glorious still. Orbs of blue light appear, shining like inverted turquoise cups, each surrounded by smaller orbs and starry sparks, until the whole expanse glimmers like a sky of jewels. This is the Dharma-Dhātu Wisdom itself, the vast wisdom of space.
From the heart of Vajrasattva streams the brilliant white light of Mirror-like Wisdom, dazzling, transparent, radiant, each orb like a pure mirror reflecting truth.
From the heart of Ratnasambhava pours the golden yellow light of the Wisdom of Equality, like inverted golden cups glowing with brilliance.
From the heart of Amitābha blazes the red light of Discriminating Wisdom, shining like coral cups, dazzling, glorious, bright as fire itself.
All these lights shine upon your heart together.
O noble soul, remember: these are not foreign lights. They are your own faculties, your own inner wisdoms, now revealed. Do not be frightened. Do not cling. Rest in stillness. If you abide without distraction, these lights will merge into you, and you will awaken into Buddhahood.
The green light of All-Performing Wisdom does not yet appear, for that faculty is not yet fully developed. What you see now are called the Four Wisdom Lights, the union of wisdom that opens the inner path.
If you recognize them as your own radiance — as a child recognizes its mother — then you will enter tranquil Samādhi, merging into the body of perfect intellect, free beyond return.
But beware: along with these wisdom lights appear the dull lights of the six realms — the pale glow of the gods, the murky green of the asuras, the dim yellow of humans, the shadowy blue of animals, the dusky red of hungry ghosts, the smoky darkness of hell. These, too, will shine beside the wisdom lights. Do not be lured by them. Do not fear them. Rest in stillness, and you will not be bound.
What It Means¶
This day is the culmination of the Peaceful Deities cycle. All the lights now blaze together — not sequentially, but in union. The teaching makes it plain: every light of wisdom is your own mind, appearing in radiant form. The challenge is to recognize this truth instead of being pulled by the dull lights of old karmic habits.
The six dull lights are particularly dangerous because they feel familiar. Each one corresponds to a realm of existence shaped by attachment, anger, pride, jealousy, or ignorance. To follow them is to be pulled back into rebirth. To resist their pull — and to recognize the brilliant lights as your own nature — is to be liberated.
The image of recognition “as a son knows his mother” is deeply tender. It means that awakening here is not about straining or achieving, but about remembering — recognizing what has always been yours.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes. Imagine brilliant lights of blue, white, yellow, and red shining together, dazzling in their radiance. Beside them, dimmer glows flicker, familiar but heavy. Whisper softly:
These brilliant lights are my own nature.
These dim glows are only shadows of habit.
May I not be afraid, nor be deceived.
May I recognize the wisdom within me,
As a child recognizes its mother.
In that recognition, may I be free.
Chapter 17: The Seventh Day — The Circle of Knowledge-Holders¶
Beloved one, on the Seventh Day the Knowledge-Holding Deities descend from the holy realms to meet you. At the same time, the dim pathway to the brute world also appears, born of the passion of ignorance.
At the center shines the Lotus Lord of Dance, the Supreme Knowledge-Holder, radiant in five colors, embraced by the Red Ḍākinī. In his hands he holds a crescent blade and a skull-cup filled with blood, symbols of wisdom cutting through illusion and transforming the very essence of life into awakening. His dance, wild and radiant, is the mudrā of fascination — fierce yet liberating.
Around him appear four companions:
- To the east, the Earth-Abiding Knowledge-Holder, white, radiant, and smiling, embraced by the White Ḍākinī.
- To the south, the Life-Master Knowledge-Holder, golden yellow, radiant, embraced by the Yellow Ḍākinī.
- To the west, the Knowledge-Holder of the Great Symbol, red and joyful, embraced by the Red Ḍākinī.
- To the north, the Self-Evolved Knowledge-Holder, green, with a half-fierce, half-smiling face, embraced by the Green Ḍākinī.
Around this circle gather countless Ḍākinīs from cremation grounds, pilgrimage sites, and holy abodes. They dance wildly, adorned with bone ornaments, beating drums made of skulls, blowing trumpets of thigh-bone, waving banners of human skin, filling the worlds with thunderous sound. The air quakes with their music, both terrifying and awe-inspiring.
From the hearts of the five Knowledge-Holders stream five-colored radiances, dazzling like woven rainbow threads, too bright to behold. These lights are the purified propensities, the Wisdom of Simultaneous Birth. They strike your heart with their brilliance. At the same time, a dull blue light — the lure of the brute world — glows beside them.
Beloved one, fear not the brilliant rainbow radiance. It is your own wisdom, dazzling in its fullness. Do not be lured by the dim blue light of the animal realm, which leads to a life of dullness, instinct, and bondage. If you fall into it, escape will be long and painful.
Within the five-colored lights resounds the sound of Truth — rolling like a thousand thunders, echoing with mantras and fierce cries of “Slay! Slay!” Do not fear these sounds. They are the voices of your own intellect, the power of your own awakened mind.
Therefore, pray with all your heart: O Knowledge-Holders, hear me now! When I wander in the storms of samsāra, On the radiant light-path of Wisdom, May your bands of Heroes lead me; May your Mothers, the Ḍākinīs, guard my back; May I be saved from the snares of the Bardo, And led into the pure Paradise Realms.
If you pray with humility and deep faith, you will merge into their rainbow hearts, and there will be no doubt of awakening.
What It Means¶
The Seventh Day brings the most dramatic display yet — Knowledge-Holders, Ḍākinīs, and hosts of fierce protectors filling the sky with sound, dance, and radiance. It is overwhelming by design: the soul is shaken free of its old habits and compelled to recognize truth.
The teaching insists again: all of this arises from within. The lights, the sounds, the terrifying cries, the fierce dances — these are not enemies. They are the purified powers of your own heart and mind, dazzling you into remembrance.
The danger lies in preferring the dull blue light of ignorance, the lure of the brute realm. To choose this is to turn away from brilliance out of fear, settling for a life of dull instinct and bondage. The choice is clear: do not cling to the dim familiar. Step into the rainbow radiance.
Reflection¶
Sit quietly. Imagine a great mandala of deities, five-colored lights streaming into your heart, thunder shaking the skies. At the edges, a dim blue glow beckons with false safety. Breathe and whisper:
The fierce and the gentle, the lights and the sounds,
all are my own wisdom.
I will not fear them. I will not turn aside.
I choose the rainbow radiance,
and awaken into freedom.
Chapter 18: Introduction to the Wrathful Deities¶
Beloved one, you have passed through the cycle of the Peaceful Deities, seven days of radiant openings. Many beings are liberated in those stages, recognizing the lights and merging with them. Yet, the number of souls is vast, and many are still bound by old karma, dense obscurations, and long habits. Fear and ignorance lead them downwards, unliberated.
Now a new cycle dawns: the Wrathful Deities. Fifty-eight flame-crowned, fierce, blood-drinking figures will appear. Do not mistake them — they are none other than the Peaceful Deities you have already seen, now in changed aspect. They arise from different centers of your subtle body, wearing forms of wrath. Though they may not resemble the gentle Buddhas, they are the same wisdom appearing in fiercer guise.
In this Bardo, recognition becomes harder. Fear, awe, and terror cloud the mind. The soul passes through rounds of fainting and confusion. Yet paradoxically, liberation here can be easier: the sheer force of the visions awakens sharp attention. If even a little recognition arises, freedom is possible.
If you have never encountered these teachings, even vast knowledge of scriptures or mastery of philosophy cannot help you here. Many learned abbots and doctors of metaphysics, untrained in these esoteric truths, fail at this stage. Seeing fierce deities they never knew, they recoil in terror and fall into lower realms. But even the simplest devotee of the esoteric path, if they recognize these wrathful ones as their own guardians, will meet them as familiar friends.
Therefore, never despise the mystic path or those who follow it, even if they appear rough or unrefined. The least of its practitioners, having prayed, visualized, or even just glimpsed images of these deities, may recognize them in the Bardo and attain liberation. And signs will accompany their death — rainbow lights, relics in the ashes, fragrances in the air — because the wave of blessing in these teachings is strong.
This Thödol — the “Liberation by Hearing” — is indispensable. It is the very heart of the secret doctrine: liberation without meditation, freedom through hearing alone. Those touched by it cannot be drawn to unhappy states.
Thus, having completed the Peaceful cycle, you now face the Wrathful Deities. Their fierce forms arise not to harm, but to awaken. Recognition is the key.
What It Means¶
This introduction reminds us that awakening comes in many forms. For some, the gentle radiance of Peaceful Deities is enough. For others, fiercer methods are needed — wisdom wearing terrifying masks. The wrathful forms are not punishments. They are the same compassion, clothed in fire, to break through fear, pride, and ignorance.
The text also warns against relying on outer learning alone. Intellectual study, even vast, is no substitute for direct recognition. Spiritual pride or disdain for esoteric practices leaves the soul unprepared for these visions. By contrast, even the humblest practice — devotion, a prayer, a moment of recognition — can open the door to liberation.
The essence is trust. Trust that all appearances, no matter how fierce, are your own wisdom showing itself.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes. Picture a radiant Buddha you love, gentle and peaceful. Now imagine that same radiance blazing with fire, fangs, and fierce eyes. Both are the same essence, two masks of wisdom. Breathe and whisper:
Peaceful or wrathful, gentle or fierce,
all are the radiance of my own heart.
May I not fear them,
but recognize them as friends,
and awaken into freedom.
Chapter 19: The Eighth Day — The Dawning of Heruka¶
Beloved one, listen well and without distraction. Having not recognized the Peaceful Deities, you have wandered further, and now the Wrathful Deities appear. On this day, the Great Glorious Buddha-Heruka dawns before you.
He is dark brown in color, with three fierce heads — white on the right, red on the left, and dark at the center. Nine eyes blaze wide open, glaring with power. His eyebrows flash like lightning, his fangs gleam as he utters the fierce cries of “a-la-la” and “ha-ha,” and whistles shrill and piercing. His reddish-yellow hair stands upright, flaming with radiance. Upon his heads rest skulls, the sun, and the moon. Around his neck hangs a garland of serpents and severed heads.
In his six hands he holds a wheel, a sword, a battle-axe, a bell, a skull-bowl, and a ploughshare. Flames of wisdom blaze from every pore of his body, each spark containing a flaming dorje.
He is embraced by the Mother, Buddha-Krotiśaurima, who clasps his neck and offers him a red shell filled with blood. Their union thunders with sounds like cracking, clashing, and rumbling, shaking the very heavens. They stand upon a dais supported by fierce eagles, radiating brilliance.
O noble soul, fear not. Do not shrink away. This is not an enemy, but your own mind’s wisdom revealed. Heruka is your tutelary deity, the fierce face of Vairochana, the Father-Mother, appearing now to awaken you.
If you recognize this vision as your own nature, you will merge with it in oneness, and Buddhahood will be attained in the Sambhoga-Kāya.
What It Means¶
The dawning of Heruka marks the first of the Wrathful Deities cycle. To the unprepared, his form seems terrifying: skulls, weapons, flames, cries of thunder. Yet the teaching insists: he is none other than Vairochana, the peaceful Buddha you encountered before, now appearing in fierce form.
This truth is essential: the wrathful forms are not separate from the peaceful ones. They are two faces of the same wisdom. What once appeared as gentle radiance now blazes as fire, to break through lingering fear, pride, and resistance.
In life, too, wisdom sometimes comes gently, sometimes fiercely. Compassion may comfort, or it may roar, shaking us from delusion. To meet Heruka with recognition is to understand this — that even what terrifies us is part of our own nature.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes. Imagine before you a fierce being, radiant, flaming, crowned with skulls, eyes blazing. Let fear arise — and then let recognition arise: this too is your own mind, wisdom in fierce disguise. Whisper softly:
Peaceful or wrathful, gentle or fierce,
all are the play of my own true mind.
I will not fear. I will not turn away.
In recognition, I am free.
Chapter 20: The Ninth Day — Vajra-Heruka Appears¶
Beloved one, listen closely and without distraction. If you turned away from the vision of the Great Heruka, then today the blood-drinking deities of the Vajra Order will appear before you.
From the eastern quarter of your mind will emerge Bhagavān Vajra-Heruka, dark blue in color, with three faces, six hands, and four powerful legs. In his right hands he holds a dorje, a skull-bowl, and a battle-axe. In his left hands he bears a bell, another skull-bowl, and a ploughshare.
He is embraced by the Mother, Vajra-Krotiśaurima, who clasps his neck with her right hand while offering him a red shell filled with blood with her left. Together they blaze forth, radiant and fierce, shining directly upon you.
Do not fear them. Do not recoil in terror or awe. Know this: they are the reflection of your own mind. Vajra-Heruka is none other than Vajra-Sattva, Father and Mother, appearing now in wrathful form. If you recognize this truth, and merge with them in oneness, liberation will come at once, and Buddhahood will be attained.
What It Means¶
The Wrathful Deities intensify here, arising from the Vajra family — the lineage of clarity, diamond-like wisdom, and indestructibility. They seem terrifying: dark blue, blood-drinking, surrounded by symbols of death and power. Yet the teaching insists: they are not alien beings. They are your own mind’s wisdom, shining in fierce form.
The skull-bowls, axes, and flames symbolize the cutting away of delusion, pride, and fear. These are not punishments, but tools of liberation. The blood-drinking imagery is meant to show how even death itself is consumed by awareness.
The challenge is simple but profound: to look upon what terrifies you and see it as your own essence. If you recognize Vajra-Heruka as your own inner light, the terrifying dissolves into the liberating.
Reflection¶
Imagine a fierce, radiant being, blue as midnight, blazing with eyes and arms. Let fear rise, but hold steady. Whisper to yourself:
This is my mind in its fierce form.
This is wisdom unshakable,
diamond-clear and indestructible.
I will not fear. I will recognize.
In recognition, I am free.
Chapter 21: The Tenth Day — Ratna-Heruka Appears¶
O beloved one, listen carefully. On this day, the blood-drinking deities of the Ratna, or Jewel, Order will arise.
From the southern quarter of your mind emerges Ratna-Heruka, yellow in color, with three faces, six hands, and four feet standing firmly upon the ground. His right face is white, his left red, and his central face a dark golden yellow. Flames blaze all around him.
In his right hands he holds a gem, a trident-staff, and a baton; in his left hands, a bell, a skull-bowl, and another trident-staff. He is embraced by the Mother, Ratna-Krotiśaurima, who clasps his neck with one arm and offers him a red shell filled with blood with the other.
They appear fierce, radiant, and awe-inspiring, shining before you. But know this: they are not external beings. They are the radiance of your own intellect, appearing in wrathful form. In truth, they are none other than Ratna-Sambhava, Father and Mother, the Jewel Buddha.
Do not be terrified. Do not turn away. Recognize them as your own inner wisdom, and in that moment recognition and liberation become one.
What It Means¶
The Ratna, or Jewel, family represents equanimity and abundance. Ratna-Sambhava is the giver of richness, the one who transforms pride and greed into the spacious wisdom of equality.
Here he appears as Ratna-Heruka, fierce and blazing, yet still your own essence. The yellow light and jewel he holds symbolize both wealth and the deep truth that all beings share the same worth. The skull-bowl and tridents remind you that clinging to possessions, status, or identity is empty — these, too, are dissolved in wisdom.
The challenge of this day is to see abundance not as something to grasp at, but as your own innate nature. To recognize that the terror of loss and the greed for gain are illusions. When you know this, the wrathful transforms into the liberating, and you rest in the wisdom of equality.
Reflection¶
Place your hand over your heart. Imagine a great being of golden-yellow light, fierce and radiant, offering you both fire and treasure. Breathe gently and whisper:
This is my mind in its jewel form.
This is abundance without clinging.
I will not fear. I will recognize.
In recognition, I am free.
Chapter 22: The Eleventh Day — Padma-Heruka Appears¶
O beloved one, listen well. On this day, the blood-drinking deities of the Lotus, or Padma, Order will appear.
From the western quarter of your own mind arises Padma-Heruka, radiant and fierce, his body a deep reddish-black. He has three faces: the right white, the left blue, and the central a dark red. He stands with four strong legs and wields six hands: one holds a lotus, another a trident-staff, another a club; the left hands hold a bell, a skull-bowl brimming with blood, and a small drum.
He is embraced by Padma-Krotiśaurima, the Mother, who clasps his neck with one hand and offers a red shell filled with blood with the other. Father and Mother together blaze forth from the western quarter of your brain, shining directly before you.
Do not fear them. Do not turn away in terror. Rejoice instead, for they are not enemies but the living radiance of your own mind. They are your tutelary deities, and in truth they are none other than Amitābha, the Buddha of Infinite Light, appearing in their wrathful form. Recognize this, and liberation is yours in the very moment of recognition.
What It Means¶
The Lotus family is tied to love, compassion, and discernment. Amitābha represents the boundless light of compassion that shines upon all beings. In peaceful form he holds the lotus of purity; in wrathful form as Padma-Heruka, that compassion blazes like fire, breaking through attachments and illusions.
The skull-bowl, trident, and drum are not threats, but reminders that love and compassion cut through ego, stir the heart awake, and dissolve the illusions of separation. Even what appears terrifying is only the fierce face of mercy.
The challenge here is to recognize love in its fiercest guise. When compassion burns hot, it can feel overwhelming, even frightening. But this fire is your own true nature, calling you home. To embrace it is to merge with Amitābha, to realize that infinite light is none other than your own awakened mind.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes and imagine a deep red lotus blazing with fire. From it shines a radiant being of fierce compassion. Breathe into the heart, and whisper:
This fierce love is my own.
This burning fire is compassion.
I will not fear. I will recognize.
In recognition, I am free.
Chapter 23: The Twelfth Day — Karma-Heruka Appears¶
O beloved one, listen well. On this day, the blood-drinking deities of the Karmic (Action) Order appear.
From the northern quarter of your mind arises Karma-Heruka, dark green and majestic. He has three faces — white, red, and green — and six powerful arms. In his right hands he holds a sword, a trident-staff, and a club. In his left hands he holds a bell, a skull-bowl brimming with blood, and a ploughshare. His four legs stand firm and unshakable.
He is embraced by Karma-Krotishaurima, the Mother, who clasps his neck with one hand and offers him a red shell filled with blood with the other. Father and Mother together radiate fierce power, shining forth from the northern quarter of your brain.
Do not be afraid. Do not shrink back. Recognize them as the embodiment of your own mind. They are your tutelary deities, the guardians of your own being. In truth they are Amogha-Siddhi, the Buddha of All-Accomplishing Wisdom, appearing in wrathful form. If you recognize this, liberation is immediate.
Just as one who mistakes a lion’s skin for a real lion trembles in fear — until told the truth — so too these terrifying visions dissolve when you recognize them as your own thought-forms. They are not strangers; they are your own wisdom returning to you in a fierce disguise. When you see this clearly, the Clear Light of your mind unites with the Clear Light of Reality, and awakening dawns.
What It Means¶
The Karma family is linked with action, accomplishment, and skillful means. Amogha-Siddhi represents the wisdom that brings forth enlightened activity in the world. When this energy appears in its wrathful form, it may seem terrifying, like overwhelming force or unstoppable momentum.
But the truth is that this power is your own — the dynamic energy of your life-force, capable of creating or destroying, healing or harming. When seen clearly, it is the wisdom that accomplishes what is needed for liberation. When misunderstood, it can fuel fear, jealousy, and destructive action.
This chapter reminds us that liberation comes not by running away, but by recognizing even the most frightening energies as our own mind. When we see that nothing is foreign, fear dissolves.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes and imagine a blazing green figure, fierce yet radiant, standing tall with sword, staff, and bell. Whisper:
This fierce power is my own.
This energy is wisdom in action.
I will not fear. I will recognize.
In recognition, I am free.
Chapter 24: The Thirteenth Day — The Kerimas and Htamenmas¶
O beloved one, listen without distraction. On this day, if you have not yet recognized the Peaceful or Wrathful Fathers, new visions will arise. From the eastern quarter of your mind, the Eight Kerimas appear — fierce dakinis, guardians of the directions, each bearing terrifying symbols.
- From the east: the White Kerima, wielding a corpse as a club and holding a skull-bowl of blood.
- From the south: the Yellow Tseurima, aiming a bow and arrow.
- From the west: the Red Pramoha, carrying a banner topped with a makara.
- From the north: the Black Petali, holding a vajra and a skull-bowl of blood.
- From the southeast: the Red Pukkase, grasping intestines in one hand and raising them to her mouth.
- From the southwest: the Dark-Green Ghasmarī, stirring a skull-bowl of blood with a vajra and drinking it with relish.
- From the northwest: the Yellow-White Tsandhali, tearing apart a corpse, holding its heart and devouring its flesh.
- From the northeast: the Dark-Blue Smasha, likewise tearing and eating.
These eight surround the Five Wrathful Fathers. Do not fear them.
Then, from the outer circle, the Eight Htamenmas appear, animal-headed guardians, also fierce and blood-drinking:
- The Lion-headed One, brown, shaking her mane, corpse in her mouth.
- The Tiger-headed One, red, fangs bared, eyes bulging.
- The Fox-headed One, black, eating entrails with relish.
- The Wolf-headed One, blue, tearing apart a corpse with glaring eyes.
- The Vulture-headed One, pale, carrying a corpse on her shoulder.
- The Cemetery-bird-headed One, dark red, also bearing a corpse.
- The Crow-headed One, black, sword and skull-bowl in hand, eating heart and lungs.
- The Owl-headed One, dark blue, holding vajra and skull-bowl, devouring.
All of these issue from within your own brain, surrounding the Wrathful Fathers. They are not demons from outside, but the unrecognized thought-forms of your own mind. Know this, and fear them not.
What It Means¶
Here the fierce dakinis appear — wild, blood-drinking, animal-headed. Their horrifying forms are not punishments, but expressions of the raw power of the psyche. They represent passions, instincts, and propensities that, when unrecognized, appear as monstrous forces.
The teaching insists: They are your own mind. Just as in dreams, terrifying figures may chase you until you wake to realize you are dreaming, these wrathful figures dissolve when recognized as inner projections.
The Kerimas and Htamenmas embody untamed energies: hunger, rage, lust, primal survival drives. By recognizing them as your own thought-forms, you liberate their power into wisdom. By fearing or fleeing them, you fall deeper into delusion.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes and breathe. Imagine all the terrifying figures of your own fears, instincts, and shadows arising. Whisper:
Fierce dakinis of my mind,
I recognize you.
You are not enemies,
but my own strength in disguise.
I will not fear you.
I welcome you back into the light.
Chapter 25: The Fourteenth Day — The Wrathful Goddesses¶
O beloved one, listen carefully. On the Fourteenth Day the final wave of wrathful deities will arise from within your own mind.
First appear the Four Female Door-Keepers:
- From the East, the White Tiger-headed Goddess, holding a skull-bowl of blood and a goad.
- From the South, the Yellow Sow-headed Goddess, holding a noose.
- From the West, the Red Lion-headed Goddess, holding an iron chain.
- From the North, the Green Serpent-headed Goddess, ringing a bell.
These come from your own brain. Recognize them as your protectors.
Then come the Twenty-Eight Mighty Goddesses (Yoginis), surrounding the circle of wrathful herukas. Each bears an animal head, a weapon, or a terrifying symbol:
- From the East: Yak-headed, Serpent-headed, Leopard-headed, Monkey-headed, Snow-bear-headed, and White Bear-headed Yoginis.
- From the South: Bat-headed, Makara-headed, Scorpion-headed, Kite-headed, Fox-headed, and Tiger-headed Yoginis.
- From the West: Vulture-headed, Horse-headed, Eagle-headed, Dog-headed, Hoopoe-headed, and Stag-headed Yoginis.
- From the North: Wolf-headed, Ibex-headed, Sow-headed, Crow-headed, Elephant-headed, and Serpent-headed Yoginis.
Finally, the Four Door Yoginis appear:
- From the East, the Cuckoo-headed Goddess, holding an iron hook.
- From the South, the Goat-headed Goddess, with a noose.
- From the West, the Lion-headed Goddess, with an iron chain.
- From the North, the Serpent-headed Goddess, holding her unseen power.
All of these issue from your own brain, from the very powers of Ratna-Sambhava and the other herukas. They are not outsiders but emanations of your own mind.
If you recognize them as your thought-forms, you merge with them instantly, attaining Buddhahood. If you flee in fear, your own mind turns into illusions, and you will fall again into Sangsāra.
Remember: even if you know all the scriptures, if you fail to recognize your own thought-forms at this moment, you will not be free. But by a single moment of recognition, Buddhahood is gained.
What It Means¶
This final stage of the Wrathful Deities is the ultimate confrontation with the shadow. The visions are terrifying: animal-headed goddesses, blood, corpses, weapons. Yet the text insists: they are your own thought-forms.
The teaching is simple but profound:
- If you recognize these visions as your own mind, they become radiant allies and you awaken.
- If you recoil, treating them as “other,” you fall back into delusion and the cycle of rebirth.
Here the wisdom of the Vajrayana path is distilled: liberation comes not from running away, but from recognition and integration. The fiercest deities are not enemies, but your own powers in fierce disguise.
Reflection¶
Sit with a deep breath. Imagine the most frightening image your mind can conjure — wild, bloody, violent. Now whisper:
You are my own thought-form.
You are not other.
I see you. I know you.
I merge with you,
and together we are free.
Chapter 26: The Lord of Death and the Final Wrathful Vision¶
O beloved one, on this day the Lord of Death and his terrifying host will arise. They will fill the worlds with dreadful forms:
- Faces grimacing, upper teeth biting down upon the lower lip.
- Eyes glazed, hair bound high upon the head.
- Bodies big-bellied yet narrow-waisted, brandishing karmic record-boards.
- They shout “Strike! Slay!” while drinking blood, tearing hearts from corpses, and licking the brains of the dead.
But remember: these are your own thought-forms. The body you now bear is a body of mind, made only of karmic propensities. It cannot be harmed or slain, for it is voidness itself. Void cannot destroy void.
Therefore, do not fear. All these figures — peaceful and wrathful deities, gods and demons, terrifying visions, and radiant lights — are not external realities. They are emanations of your own mind, and they vanish the moment you recognize them as such.
At this moment, recall your tutelary deity and pray with faith:
“Alas! I wander in the Bardo. O Precious Guide, run to my aid! Do not let your grace forsake me.”
Pray also to your guru, and to the Peaceful and Wrathful Ones, offering these words:
“Alas! when I wander in the Bardo, overcome by illusions,
On the light-path of abandoning fear and awe,
May the bands of the Peaceful and Wrathful Ones lead me,
May the goddess Rich in Space guard my rear,
May I be saved from ambush and placed among the Buddhas.”
Pray with faith that the terrifying sounds become the sacred Six Syllables of liberation. Pray that the Five Elements rise not as enemies but as radiant expressions of the Five Wisdoms.
If you do this, all fear dissolves, and liberation in the Sambhoga-Kāya becomes certain.
But if recognition still does not occur, then the soul begins to move further into the third Bardo, the Sidpa Bardo, the realm of rebirth.
What It Means¶
This passage is the climax of the Wrathful Deities’ appearance. The Lord of Death and his minions are not independent beings. They are the projection of your own karma, now exaggerated and dramatized by the power of the Bardo.
The teaching is clear:
- If you recognize them as your own thought-forms, they cannot harm you.
- If you run in fear, you are pulled deeper into Sangsāra, into rebirth.
It is both a comfort and a warning: all the gods and demons you face are made of the same essence as your own awareness. Liberation lies in knowing this, not in fleeing.
Reflection¶
Sit with your breath steady. Whisper to yourself:
Even in terror, I am safe.
These fears are my own mind.
Void cannot harm void.
I rest in the Clear Light,
And all beings with me.
Chapter 27: Conclusion - The Power of the Bardo Teachings¶
Whatever practices a person may have undertaken in life — whether great or small — illusions will arise at the time of death. For this reason, the Thödol, the “Great Liberation by Hearing,” is indispensable.
For those who have practiced meditation deeply, the Truth itself dawns instantly when body and mind part. Those who have recognized their true nature even a little while alive will find great strength when the Clear Light shines at death.
Those who have trained in visualizing and embodying the deities of the Mantra Path will find this practice vital when the Peaceful and Wrathful deities appear in the Chönyid Bardo. The training itself is precious — to study, to memorize, to hear these words again and again so that even if a hundred distractions or fears arose, the essence would not be forgotten.
This text is called the Great Liberation by Hearing because even those who have committed the gravest of sins can be freed simply by hearing its words. Therefore it should be read in public gatherings, whispered in the ears of the dying, placed under the pillow of the sick, and spoken beside the dead.
Fortunate indeed are those who meet these teachings. Rare it is to encounter them, and rarer still to understand them. Yet even a single hearing plants a seed. Even without full comprehension, in the Bardo these words return to the mind with clarity.
So treat this teaching as a treasure. It is the distilled essence of all doctrines. To hear it without disbelief is already to step onto the path of liberation.
Here ends the Setting-Face-to-Face while Experiencing Reality in the Intermediate State, known as The Teaching Which Liberates by Mere Hearing, and by Mere Connection.
What It Means¶
This conclusion reminds us that the practice of recognition is the heart of liberation. Meditation, visualization, devotion — all prepare the mind to meet the ultimate test: can we recognize our own mind as the source of light, deities, and visions at death?
The teaching also insists that compassion is practical: reading the text for others — the sick, the dying, even the dead — plants seeds of awakening. The words themselves hold power, especially in the heightened clarity of the Bardo.
And it comforts us: even if our lives have been tangled with mistakes, even if we have committed terrible wrongs, this teaching offers a path of liberation. Recognition can arise in a single moment.
Reflection¶
In this conclusion, remember the words and whisper:
This teaching is a gift,
ancient and compassionate.
Even now, hearing it,
my mind opens to light.
I carry it within me,
to guide myself and others
through fear, through death,
into the Great Liberation.
Chapter 28: The After-Death Body¶
The officiant now addresses the deceased directly:
O nobly-born, listen well. When you fainted away after failing to recognize the deities of the Chönyid Bardo, your mind arose again in a subtle, radiant body. This body looks like the one you had in life and like the one you will take in rebirth. It is called the desire-body. It is a thought-form, born of karmic propensities, yet endowed with unusual powers.
- All senses restored: If you were blind, deaf, or lame in life, now your sight, hearing, and movement are flawless, sharper than before.
- Unimpeded motion: You can pass through mountains, walls, even the great Mount Meru, for this body is not made of flesh but of subtle thought.
- Miraculous abilities: You can travel across the four continents in an instant, move anywhere you wish as quickly as a man can stretch out his arm. These powers arise not from meditation but from karma.
You will also see others like yourself — beings wandering in the Bardo, destined for different realms. If you are to be reborn as a deva, visions of celestial palaces will appear; if as a brute, preta, or hell-being, those landscapes will draw near.
But be warned: these visions are snares. They are the pull of karma. Do not be attached to them, nor weakly drawn into their lights. To follow them blindly is to fall into the Six Realms of rebirth.
Even now, liberation is possible.
- If you can: Rest your mind in its own pure nature — the bright, empty awareness beyond grasping or fear. This is the true state your guru introduced you to. Rest there and you will not need to enter a womb.
- If you cannot: Then hold the image of your teacher or your chosen deity above your head with faith and devotion. Pray to them, call to them, take refuge in them. This is of great importance.
What It Means¶
The Sidpa Bardo is a sobering stage: consciousness is no longer face-to-face with dazzling deities but is instead drawn by karmic winds toward rebirth. The “desire-body” has godlike powers, yet it is fragile, vulnerable to illusion. Here the teaching insists again and again: do not be fooled. What appears is not external reality but projections of your own mind.
The promise is clear: even now, if recognition dawns — if one remembers the guru’s instructions, or if devotion to the deity arises wholeheartedly — liberation is possible. If not, the pull of karma carries the soul toward a new birth.
Reflection¶
Place a hand on your heart and feel its steady rhythm. Softly say to yourself:
Even in the in-between,
the mind is radiant,
the senses clear,
the power vast.
Yet visions deceive.
May I not be drawn by illusion,
but rest in the bright, empty nature
of mind itself.
If I falter,
may devotion hold me,
and may the Compassionate Ones
lead me home.
Chapter 29: The Sidpa Bardo – Characteristics of Existence¶
O nobly-born, in this state you may see your family and your home. You may try to speak, but no one replies. Then sorrow comes, as you think: “I am dead! What shall I do?”
You are carried by the winds of karma, with no place to rest, drifting like a feather in a storm. Around you is a twilight that never changes. This wandering may last up to seven weeks, though most remain about twenty-two days, depending on karma.
Terrifying visions appear—darkness, storms, demons, collapsing mountains, floods, and fire. Voices cry, “Strike! Slay!” In your fear, you may see great abysses before you—white, red, and black. They are not real precipices but the powers of Anger, Lust, and Ignorance.
Some will experience joy and ease, others only dull indifference. Those of heavy karma will face terror. But all these visions are nothing more than the radiance of your own mind.
Longing for a body may arise. You may try to return to your corpse, but it is too late. It has decayed, or been burned, or given to the birds. Feeling trapped and without rest, you are drawn by desire to seek a new body. This is the suffering of the Sidpa Bardo.
Put aside the craving for flesh. Rest the mind in the clear awareness of its own nature. Call upon your guru and the Compassionate Ones. In stillness and surrender, liberation is possible even now.
What It Means¶
This passage describes the Intermediate State of Becoming (Sidpa Bardo), where the soul searches for rebirth. The greatest suffering here is longing—longing for loved ones, for stability, for a body again. But these cravings only deepen the cycle of Samsāra.
The terrifying visions—the demons, storms, abysses—are not external forces. They are the mind’s own projections, born from anger, lust, and ignorance. Even beauty and ease can be traps if clung to. The teaching reminds us: whether blissful or fearful, all appearances are illusions of mind.
Liberation comes not by fighting or fleeing, but by recognizing the illusions as illusions and resting in awareness itself. Even in sorrow, even in fear, the light of the Compassionate One is present. By remembering, surrendering, and letting go, one can be free.
Reflection¶
Close your eyes and listen for the quiet beneath your thoughts. Whisper:
When sorrow comes, may I not cling.
When fear arises, may I not flee.
When longing burns, may I rest in awareness.
O Compassionate One,
be my refuge in the storm.
Even in wandering,
may I remember my true home.
Chapter 30: The Judgement¶
O nobly-born, what you now experience arises from your own karma. No one else is doing this to you. Pray earnestly to the Three Jewels; they alone can protect you.
Your good deeds, counted by the Good Genius in white stones, and your harmful deeds, counted by the Evil Genius in black stones, appear before you. You may feel afraid and want to lie, but nothing is hidden. The Lord of Death consults the Mirror of Karma, where all your actions are reflected.
You may see ropes around your neck, or your body being cut, your heart removed, your brain licked, your blood drunk — but you cannot die. Even if you are hacked to pieces, your body reforms, because it is not flesh but mind.
Know this: the Lords of Death, the Furies, the Bull-Headed Spirits are your own hallucinations. They are forms of your desire-body — a body of propensities — and void. Voidness cannot harm voidness.
Now is the moment to recognize: you are in the Bardo. Meditate on the Great Symbol, or if you cannot, at least examine the nature of what frightens you. All these forms are in truth the bright, empty nature of the Dharma-Kāya. This Voidness is not nothingness, but the clear, radiant mind before which your awareness shines more lucidly.
This inseparable Voidness and Brightness is your own primordial mind — the Ādi-Kāya — radiant and unobstructed, expressing itself as the Sambhoga-Kāya and Nirmāna-Kāya. By simply recognizing this, you can awaken in any of the Four Kāyas. Do not be distracted.
This moment is decisive. “In a moment of time, a marked differentiation is created; in a moment of time, Perfect Enlightenment is obtained.” Even if you failed to recognize until now, you can still awaken here.
If you cannot meditate, at least remember the Compassionate One, the Buddha, the Dharma, the Sangha. Think of all fears and visions as your own tutelary deity, as the Compassionate One. Call to mind the sacred name given to you in life, and the name of your guru, and speak them to the Lord of Death. Even if you fall from precipices, you will not be harmed. Avoid awe and terror.
What It Means¶
This is the judgement scene of the Bardo. But unlike earthly trials, there is no external judge, no demon, no punisher. The Mirror of Karma is your own mind reflecting itself. The Good Genius and Evil Genius are your own tendencies becoming visible.
The terrifying visions — ropes, cutting, dismemberment — are symbolic of how our unhealed guilt and fear tear at us. In truth, you cannot die again; the Bardo body is mind, not matter. All these appearances arise from your own consciousness and cannot harm you.
Here the teaching is radical: if you simply recognize the terrifying forms as empty radiance — the Dharma-Kāya itself — you awaken instantly. The Four Kāyas are not distant heavens but the dimensions of your own mind. Even if you cannot meditate deeply, remembering your guru, the Compassionate One, or your own sacred name can anchor you in the light of recognition.
This is the turning point. If you look outward for a savior, you will wander. If you look inward and recognize, you are free.
Reflection¶
Take a slow breath in through your nose and feel your chest expand. Gently say:
In the mirror of karma,
may I see only truth.
In the forms of terror,
may I see my own mind.
In the Lord of Death,
may I see the Compassionate One.
O Radiant Void,
O Bright Clear Mind,
hold me now.
May fear dissolve into recognition,
and recognition into freedom.
Chapter 31: The All-Determining Influence of Thought¶
O nobly-born, know this: in the Bardo your thoughts carry immense weight. A single impulse of anger or clinging can pull you into the lower realms, while a single impulse of trust and devotion can lift you to liberation.
You will feel momentary joys and sorrows, as sharp and sudden as a catapult. Do not cling to the joys, nor resist the sorrows.
You may see your relatives performing rituals, sacrifices, or prayers on your behalf. Their actions may appear imperfect to your perception, and anger may arise: “They are failing me, they are careless.” Resist this thought, for it can drag you into hellish states. Instead, think: “My own mind is clouded. I take refuge in the Three Jewels and entrust all to them.”
You may feel attachment to the possessions you left behind, or resentment seeing them enjoyed by others. Let go of that. You cannot possess them now. Instead, dedicate them inwardly to the Buddha, the Dharma, the Sangha. In release, there is freedom.
Know that even if the rituals for you are performed with flaws, your love and trust can transform them into true offerings. But resentment will poison them and bind you to suffering. Therefore, cultivate pure affection, humble faith, and impartial love.
Above all, remember: in this state your mind is weightless and quick. Whatever thought arises now has great power to shape your rebirth. Let devotion, not anger, be your guide.
What It Means¶
This passage is one of the most practical of all the Bardo teachings. It reminds us that thought is destiny in the in-between. The mind, ungrounded by a physical body, is carried like a feather on the winds of karma. Every impulse of anger, clinging, or distrust shapes where we will land.
Even in life, we know this truth: our thoughts change our experience of the world. But here, thought is not just experience — it is creation. To be angry at one’s family, jealous of possessions, or scornful of imperfect rituals is to bind oneself to lower states. To cultivate trust, love, and surrender, even in confusion, is to open the way to freedom.
It is a teaching of immense compassion: you don’t need to be perfect, learned, or saintly. If you can remember devotion, affection, and prayer at this moment, it can carry you across.
Reflection¶
Let your shoulders drop. Allow the tension to melt as you murmur:
Breathing in, I release resentment.
Breathing out, I rest in trust.
Breathing in, I let go of clinging.
Breathing out, I dedicate all I have to the Three Jewels.
O Compassionate One,
when anger rises, soften me with love.
When jealousy arises, loosen me with trust.
When despair arises, lift me with light.
May every thought become a step toward freedom.
Chapter 32: The Dawning of the Lights of the Six Lokas¶
O nobly-born, now the body of your past life grows dim, and the body of your future life grows clear. You will feel sorrow and think, “What misery! I must seek a body again.” So you will wander, restless, searching.
Then the lights of the Six Realms will shine upon you:
- a dull white light of the gods (Deva-world),
- a dull green light of the titans (Asura-world),
- a dull yellow light of human beings,
- a dull blue light of the animals,
- a dull red light of the hungry ghosts (Preta-world),
- a smoke-colored light of the hells.
By the pull of karma, your own form will begin to take the color of the realm toward which you are drawn.
O nobly-born, remember this sacred art: whatever light you see, regard it as the radiance of the Compassionate One. Whatever world it comes from, see it as a display of the Compassionate One. This practice will keep you from rebirth.
If you cannot hold this, then meditate upon your tutelary deity, your heart’s guiding image. See them as vivid yet illusory, like a magician’s conjured form. Let this image dissolve into emptiness. Rest in the union of clarity and voidness. Alternate between the form of the deity and the formless Clear Light.
Finally, allow even your own sense of self to dissolve. As air pervades space, so consciousness pervades all. And as consciousness pervades, so does the Dharma-Kāya. Rest in this uncreated state, and rebirth will be cut off. Here, Perfect Enlightenment is possible.
What It Means¶
This passage describes the transition when the pull of rebirth begins to stir. The dying person sees the lights of the Six Realms — the habitual destinations of consciousness shaped by karma: divine, titanic, human, animal, hungry ghost, or hellish states.
The dullness of these lights contrasts with the brilliance of the earlier wisdom lights. They reflect the pull of old habits and attachments. What we loved, feared, or clung to in life now draws us like gravity.
The teaching offers an “art” — a profound shift of perception: to see every light, even those of lower realms, as emanations of compassion. Instead of being lured or repelled, one recognizes them as part of the divine play, as one’s own mind. This recognition breaks the chain of karma and opens the gate to liberation.
It is also a teaching about practice: form and formlessness. To meditate on a deity and then dissolve that image into clear light is to train in letting go of all appearances. It is practice in dying itself — resting in the luminous void where rebirth is no longer necessary.
Reflection¶
Feel your feet on the ground, rooted and safe. Breathe out the words:
Breathing in, I see every light as compassion.
Breathing out, I rest in the embrace of the Dharma-Kāya.
Breathing in, I release my search for another body.
Breathing out, I awaken in the Clear Light.
O Compassionate One,
when the lights of the six realms call me,
let me not be drawn by fear or desire.
Let me see only You —
in gods and humans, in animals and hungry ghosts,
in heaven and in hell.
In every light, let me behold the radiance of the Dharma-Kāya.
In this recognition, may I awaken to freedom.
Chapter 33: The Closing of the Door of the Womb¶
O nobly-born, if you do not understand the earlier teachings, the pull of karma will draw you onward. You may feel as though you are rising upward, moving level, or sinking downward. Fierce winds, icy blasts, hail, darkness, and the sense of being pursued will come upon you.
If your karma is heavy and unwholesome, you will feel driven toward places of misery. If your karma is virtuous, you will feel drawn toward places of happiness. At that moment, signs of the place of your next birth will appear before you.
Now listen carefully. Even if you failed to recognize the earlier teachings, here you may still awaken, for even those of weak devotion often recognize the signs of rebirth. Therefore, remember the Compassionate One, and meditate upon Him.
At this stage, the teaching of closing the womb-door is most vital. Two methods are taught:
- Preventing yourself from entering the womb.
- Closing the womb itself so it may not be entered.
Hold these teachings well, for they determine whether you are swept again into samsara or remain in the freedom of the Clear Light.
What It Means¶
This passage describes the beginning of rebirth-seeking. As karma ripens, consciousness is drawn toward new parents, pulled by attraction and aversion. This attraction is the seed of embodiment: desire pulls us into matter.
The “closing of the womb-door” means learning to recognize this pull as illusion. Instead of following attraction into birth, one turns the mind back to its source — the Clear Light, or the Compassionate One. It is a reminder that even at the threshold of rebirth, liberation is still possible.
The imagery of storms, pursuit, and flashes of birthplace is psychological: it is the mind being driven by fear, desire, and habit. To remember — “this is illusion, this is my own mind” — is to remain free.
The two methods reflect this:
- Preventing entry: not allowing yourself to be carried by attraction into a womb.
- Closing the womb itself: recognizing its unreality and preventing it from appearing as a viable refuge.
In essence, the practice is restraint of desire, recognition of illusion, and remembrance of the Divine.
Reflection¶
Rest your hands in your lap and feel the warmth of being alive. Say softly:
Breathing in, I remember the Compassionate One.
Breathing out, I close the door to illusion.
Breathing in, storms and terrors arise.
Breathing out, I rest in the Clear Light.
O Compassionate One,
when winds drive me,
when womb-doors appear before me,
let me not be carried by desire.
Let me not mistake illusion for refuge.
Turn me back into Your embrace,
the unborn, unending radiance.
May I awaken here,
before the chains of birth close upon me again.
Chapter 34: The First Method of Closing the Womb-Door¶
O nobly-born, if you are drawn toward a womb, remember this teaching.
Whoever your tutelary deity may be, visualize them calmly — like the reflection of the moon upon water: shining, present, yet without true substance. If you have no tutelary deity, then meditate upon the Compassionate Lord, or even upon the one reading these words to you.
Let the form of the deity dissolve gradually from the edges inward, until only the clear, formless Light remains. Rest in that Light without forming thoughts. This profound practice alone can prevent you from entering a womb.
If, despite this, you feel yourself being drawn into a womb, then listen to the teaching of the First Method of Closing the Womb-Door:
When the Sidpa Bardo is dawning upon me, May I hold one pure resolve in mind. May I join the chain of good karma, Close the womb-door, and remember the way of opposition. At this time, earnestness and pure love are required; Let me abandon jealousy and meditate upon the Guru as Father-Mother.
Repeat these words aloud if you can, and keep their meaning vividly in your heart.
Know this: in the Sidpa Bardo, you no longer cast a shadow, nor see your reflection in water or in mirrors. This is the sign that you no longer carry the gross body of flesh and blood. You now wander in the subtle body of desire.
At this time, form a single, unwavering resolve. It is like guiding a horse with reins — wherever your resolve points, your destiny follows. Do not let the mind dwell on harmful actions; hold only to the chain of good. Remember the bond with your guru, or with any who gave you teachings in the human life. Hold fast to that connection, for it can carry you upward.
The dividing line between liberation and bondage, between ascent and descent, is before you now. Even one moment of hesitation may cast you into long misery. Therefore, remain steadfast. Persist in the good. This is the moment of closing the womb-door.
What It Means¶
Here, the teaching emphasizes that rebirth begins with desire and distraction. The way to prevent it is through clarity and resolve. To see your deity dissolve into pure Light is to remember that all forms, even the body you long for, are illusion.
The “womb-door” is both literal and symbolic. Literally, it is the pull toward a new physical body. Symbolically, it is the pull of desire into any binding form — be it anger, jealousy, or attachment. Closing the womb-door means refusing to be caught by illusion and resting instead in the Clear Light.
The instruction to hold “one single resolve” is profound: in this subtle state, the mind is highly powerful and creative. Even a flicker of anger or longing can determine your rebirth. But so too can a flicker of devotion, love, and remembrance of the Guru or the Compassionate One lead you upward or even free you entirely.
Reflection¶
Turn inward for a moment and notice the stillness waiting there. Whisper:
Breathing in, I remember my true refuge.
Breathing out, I dissolve all forms into Light.
Breathing in, I steady my heart with one pure resolve.
Breathing out, I close the doors of illusion.
O Compassionate One, when the womb-doors open before me,
let me not be drawn by desire.
Let me not mistake illusion for refuge.
Strengthen me to hold a single, pure resolve.
May I remain in the Clear Light,
or rise into the realms of freedom,
and not fall again into the nets of bondage.
Chapter 35: The Second Method of Closing the Womb-Door¶
O nobly-born, at this time you may see visions of men and women in union. If you see them, do not be drawn into the space between them.
Instead, regard the father and mother you see as the form of your Guru and the Divine Mother. Bow before them. With humility, offer them your devotion and mental worship, and resolve that you will ask them for spiritual guidance.
This alone can close the womb-door. But if it does not, and you find yourself still ready to enter, then meditate upon the Guru Father-Mother as you would upon your tutelary deity, or upon the Compassionate Lord and His Consort. Worship them inwardly with offerings of the mind, and resolve earnestly that you will ask of them a boon. By this resolve, the womb-door will be closed.
What It Means¶
The vision of couples in union represents the strongest pull of desire: the drive toward rebirth. In ordinary life, this energy is overwhelming; in the Bardo, it can sweep the soul into a new body without awareness.
The teaching is to transform desire into reverence. Instead of seeing parents-to-be, see the Guru and the Divine Mother. Instead of craving entry, bow down in devotion. This shift changes the energy from lust to faith, from attachment to offering.
The “boon” here is not a worldly gift but the grace of awakening: the power to remain free, or at least to be guided into a higher birth. By remembering to treat even this vision as sacred appearance, the cycle of bondage can be interrupted.
Reflection¶
Inhale peace, exhale striving. Let your heart form the words:
Breathing in, I see desire arise.
Breathing out, I bow in reverence.
Breathing in, I offer devotion.
Breathing out, the womb-door closes.
O Guru, O Divine Mother,
when the visions of union draw me in,
let me not be overcome by craving.
Let me see You in every form,
and turn longing into worship.
May devotion replace desire,
and may the womb-door close before me.
Chapter 36: The Third Method of Closing the Womb-Door¶
O nobly-born, if the womb-door still has not been closed, and you find yourself ready to enter, this method will show you how to resist attraction and repulsion.
There are four kinds of birth: through egg, through womb, through heat and moisture, and through supernormal appearance. When visions of men and women in union appear, if you are swept in by attraction or repulsion, you may enter the womb and be born as human, animal, or other form.
If born as male, attraction to the mother and aversion toward the father will arise. If born as female, attraction to the father and aversion toward the mother will arise. This pull, mingled with jealousy, draws you into unconsciousness just as the sperm and egg unite. When you awaken, you may find yourself trapped in the form of an animal, or cast into one of the lower realms of suffering.
O nobly-born, the root of this fate is attraction and repulsion. Hear this profound teaching: when these emotions arise, meditate:
“Alas! It is because of attraction and repulsion that I have wandered so long in suffering. If I continue to follow them, I will circle endlessly in misery. Now I will not act through attraction and repulsion. Henceforth, I renounce them.”
By this resolve alone, the womb-door can be closed. Hold your mind one-pointedly. Be not distracted.
What It Means¶
This passage shows us how the very energies of love and hate, when left unexamined, can bind us into existence after existence. Attraction and repulsion are two sides of the same coin, and both lead to bondage.
The practice is radical: to pause in the moment of strongest pull — even at the threshold of rebirth — and name the pattern: This is attraction. This is aversion. I will not follow them. By doing so, one redirects the flow of karma and reclaims freedom.
The essence is to replace grasping and rejection with steadiness and devotion. The teaching assures us that a single, undistracted resolve can close the door to rebirth and open the way to liberation.
Reflection¶
Let your eyes close halfway, as if seeing the world through grace. Gently speak:
Breathing in, I see attraction arise.
Breathing out, I release it.
Breathing in, I see aversion arise.
Breathing out, I let it go.
O Compassionate One,
teach me to see the root of my wandering.
When I am pulled by love or hate,
let me remember the deeper truth.
Let my heart rest in pure devotion.
Let the womb-door close,
and may freedom be born within me.
Chapter 37: The Fourth Method of Closing the Womb-Door¶
O nobly-born, if the womb-door is still not closed, then meditate on The Untrue and the Illusory.
Think thus:
“O, the father and mother, the black rain, the storm-blasts, the frightening sounds, the visions of form — these are illusions. They have no real substance. They are dreams, phantoms, echoes, mirages, images in water. They are non-permanent and without fixity. Why should I cling to them? Why should I fear them?
These are but hallucinations of my own mind. And the illusory mind itself has no foundation from eternity. Where then could these appearances exist?
Because I did not know this truth, I mistook the unreal for the real and wandered so long in the Sangsāra. If I still fail to recognize them as illusions, I shall wander on endlessly in suffering. But now I see: all is illusion. They cannot bind me.”
By holding firmly to this realization, the belief in their reality will dissolve. Imprinting this deeply on consciousness, the womb-door will close.
What It Means¶
This is the teaching of illusion — one of the deepest keys in Buddhist thought. Everything that appears, whether beautiful or terrifying, parental or monstrous, is mind’s projection. To take these projections as ultimately real is to be trapped in Sangsāra.
But when we recognize them as illusions — fleeting, dreamlike, without lasting substance — the spell is broken. The doorway of rebirth cannot hold us, because there is no real “door” to pass through.
The practice here is one of radical letting go: loosening the grip of belief in appearances, whether they inspire fear or desire. In that loosening, liberation becomes possible.
Reflection¶
Breathe into your belly and feel the rise and fall of your own belonging. Say:
Breathing in, I see all things as dreamlike.
Breathing out, I let go of my fear.
Breathing in, I see all things as illusion.
Breathing out, I let go of my grasping.
O Compassionate One,
teach me to see the unreal as unreal.
Let me not mistake shadow for substance,
nor fear for truth.
May I awaken from the dream of Sangsāra,
and rest in the Clear Light of freedom.
Chapter 38: The Fifth Method of Closing the Womb-Door¶
Still, even if illusions remain and the womb-door has not closed, meditate upon the Clear Light.
Think thus:
“Lo! All things are but my own mind. And this mind is empty, unborn, and ceaseless.
Like water poured into water, let it rest in its natural state — uncreated, clear, and vibrant.”
By abiding in this relaxed, luminous awareness, the womb-doors of all four kinds of birth will be closed.
What It Means¶
Here the teachings return us to the heart of the path: the Clear Light of mind itself. All other practices — rejecting fear, dissolving attraction and repulsion, recognizing illusions — culminate in this simple resting in awareness.
The metaphor is striking: water poured into water. Nothing to grasp, nothing to fix, nothing separate. Just the flow of mind merging with its own true nature.
This is not about forceful concentration, but a gentle return. The womb-door — the compulsion to take form again in the Sangsāra — closes not by resistance, but by recognition. When we see that mind is unborn, unceasing, and radiant, rebirth loosens its grip.
Reflection¶
Let your jaw loosen, your brow smooth. With ease, whisper:
Breathing in, I rest in the unborn.
Breathing out, I rest in the unceasing.
Breathing in, my mind is like water poured into water.
Breathing out, I am clear, vibrant, uncreated.
O Compassionate One,
let me not mistake form for substance,
nor fear for truth.
May I rest in the Clear Light,
where birth and death lose their hold,
and freedom shines without end.
Chapter 40: The Choosing of the Womb-Door¶
There are many who, though reminded and instructed, are not liberated — because of heavy karma, old habits of ignorance, and lack of devotion. If the womb-door has not been closed until now, then it is nearly time to assume another body.
Therefore, hear this teaching on the choosing of a womb.
O nobly-born, though you did not recognize the earlier teachings, you are now at the threshold of rebirth. Attend carefully. It is almost time to take form again. Choose wisely where to enter.
What It Means¶
This moment is tender and weighty: if liberation has not been realized, rebirth becomes inevitable. Yet even here, the teachings remind us that choice is possible. Not all womb-doors are the same — some lead into deeper suffering, others into more favorable conditions for awakening.
The force of karma propels the soul, but the light of awareness can still guide it. The instruction is not to fall into despair but to choose with mindfulness. To see the threshold as another moment of practice, another opportunity to align with compassion, clarity, and the path toward awakening.
The text also reflects a deep mercy: even if liberation has not come, the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas surround the soul, still offering guidance. The Refuge can be renewed, and the mind steadied for its next journey.
Reflection¶
Place your palm over your chest, feeling each breath as a gift. Murmur:
Breathing in, I stand at the threshold.
Breathing out, I choose with wisdom.
Breathing in, I remember the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas.
Breathing out, I trust their guidance.
O Compassionate Ones,
if I must take form again,
let it be where love may grow,
where the Dharma may be heard,
and where wisdom can awaken.
Even in rebirth,
may I be turned toward the Light.
Chapter 41: The Premonitory Visions of the Place of Rebirth¶
O nobly-born, now the signs of the place of rebirth will appear before you. Recognize them.
If you see a lake with swans upon it, that is the Eastern Continent of Lüpah. Do not go there. Though there is ease and bliss, the Dharma does not flourish there.
If you see splendid mansions, that is the Southern Continent of Jambu. If you must take birth, enter there.
If you see a lake with horses grazing near its shores, that is the Western Continent of Balang-Chöd. Do not go there, for although abundance reigns, religion does not.
If you see a lake with cattle or beautiful trees, that is the Northern Continent of Daminyan. Though long life is found there, the Dharma is not. Do not go there.
If you see radiant temples of precious metals, you may enter — for that is the realm of the gods.
If you see forests or fiery circles, that is the realm of the asuras. Turn away.
If you see caverns, holes, or mists, that is the realm of beasts. Enter not.
If you see wastelands, plains without trees, or empty glades, that is the realm of hungry ghosts. Do not go.
If you hear cries of lament and see dark roads, black holes, or shadowy houses, that is the realm of Hell. Turn back; go not there, lest you suffer long.
Exert your strength now. Resist these doors.
What It Means¶
At the threshold of rebirth, visions come that mirror the Six Realms of existence. These visions are not random — they reveal where karmic forces are leading. The teaching gives us discernment: which visions to resist, which to embrace.
The Southern Continent, where Dharma prevails, is considered the most fortunate human rebirth, for it is the ground of practice. Even devas (gods), though radiant, are often lulled into complacency; the human realm offers the chance to awaken through both joy and suffering.
The warning is clear: wealth, beauty, or ease without Dharma leads to wandering. Better to choose conditions that, though imperfect, turn the heart toward awakening. The heart of this teaching is intentionality at the very brink: even if karma pulls, awareness can still redirect.
Reflection¶
Lean back slightly and let gravity hold you. In that rest, say:
Breathing in, I see the doors of many worlds.
Breathing out, I turn toward wisdom.
O Compassionate Ones,
protect me from paths of suffering.
If I must take birth again,
let it be where Dharma flourishes.
Let me awaken in a realm
where compassion may grow,
where wisdom may shine,
and where freedom may be found.
Chapter 42: The Protection Against the Tormenting Furies¶
O nobly-born, though you may not wish it, karmic furies pursue from behind. Before you rise life-cutters, storms, darkness, and terrifying cries. Fear drives you to seek refuge.
You will see visions of mansions, caverns, forests, or lotus blossoms that close around you. Entering them, you may cling to them as safe refuge. Yet in so doing, you may take on an undesirable body and be bound to suffering. This is the interference of spirits and illusions.
At that time, visualize immediately the great protector: Heruka, or Hayagriva, or Vajrapani, or whichever tutelary deity you hold dear. See them vast, powerful, wrathful, and luminous — scattering every tormentor to dust. Their grace will shield you and grant the power to choose your rebirth wisely.
Know this also: the gods are born of the power of meditation, while unhappy spirits and demons arise from disturbed thoughts in the Intermediate State. As their minds became distorted, so their forms took shape.
Therefore, if you can, recollect the Great Teaching of the Void — all is empty. If not, train your mind to see all things as illusion, like a dream. If even this is beyond you, cling to nothing. Meditate on your tutelary deity, on the Great Compassionate One. Thus will Buddhahood be attained in the Sambhoga-Kāya.
What It Means¶
This section reminds us that in the Bardo, fear creates form. The winds, furies, and demons are not external beings but projections of unsettled mind. The same process that produces Buddhas through meditation can also produce spirits and pretas through confusion and fear.
The antidote is recognition and visualization. By calling upon a wrathful yet compassionate protector, one taps into the inner power of the awakened mind. These deities are mirrors of our own fierce clarity — the part of us strong enough to scatter illusions.
At the heart of the teaching lies the same refrain: everything terrifying is an emanation of the mind. To see through appearances, or at least not to cling, is liberation.
Reflection¶
Feel the air entering and leaving you — your first and oldest prayer. Whisper:
Breathing in, I remember: these fears are my own mind.
Breathing out, I rest in the shelter of Compassion.
O Fierce Protector,
scatter the demons of fear,
scatter the winds of karma.
Let me not run blindly,
but pause,
recognize,
and choose with wisdom./*
/All forms are illusions,*
all fears dissolve in the Light.
May I remember this truth,
and find freedom,
even here./*
Chapter 43: The Alternative Choosing: Supernormal Birth or Womb-Birth¶
O nobly-born, if karma compels you to enter a womb, hear this teaching. Do not enter blindly into the first doorway that appears. If tormenting furies press you, call upon Hayagriva for strength.
At this time you possess a subtle power of foreknowledge. One by one, the places of possible birth will appear to you. Choose with care.
Two paths are open:
- The transference of consciousness into a pure Buddha realm.
- The selection of a womb-door within the cycle of samsara.
Choose wisely.
What It Means¶
This passage confronts us with the ultimate choice of rebirth. Even in the midst of confusion and karmic pressure, the teachings remind us: pause, recognize, and choose consciously. Not every doorway that opens is meant for us. Some lead into cycles of suffering; others, into realms of clarity.
The teaching highlights our latent foreknowledge in this state — a faint intuition of what lies beyond each doorway. The appearance of options is not random; it is the flowering of our karma. Still, by remembering, by praying, and by invoking compassion, there remains freedom to choose differently.
Supernormal birth into a Pure Land — the Buddha realms of light and wisdom — represents liberation. Entering a womb is re-entry into samsara, where lessons continue in fleshly form. Both paths are possibilities, but one leads beyond suffering.
Reflection¶
Allow your breath to deepen, carrying kindness inward. Quietly say:
Breathing in, I open to choice.
Breathing out, I rest in freedom.
O Compassionate One,
when doors appear before me,
grant me discernment.
May I not rush in fear,
nor cling in desire.
May I choose with clarity,
guided by love.
If rebirth awaits,
let it be in a place of awakening.
If liberation calls,
may I recognize it
and rest in the Pure Land.
Chapter 44: Supernormal Birth by Transference to a Paradise Realm¶
O nobly-born, if you choose transference to a Pure Land, meditate thus:
“Alas! Through countless aeons I have wandered in the quagmire of samsara, blind to my true nature, circling in birth and death. How painful that I have not yet been liberated into Buddhahood!
Now I am sickened and horrified by this endless wandering. The time has come to flee. I resolve to be born in the Happy Western Realm, at the feet of Buddha Amitābha, miraculously within a lotus blossom.”
Think this with one-pointed resolve. Or, if you prefer another Realm — The Pre-eminently Happy Realm, The Thickly-Formed Realm, The Realm of Long Hair, or the Illimitable Vihāra of the Lotus Radiance in Urgyan’s presence — direct your wish there with undistracted mind. By doing so, birth in that Realm occurs instantaneously.
If you desire to be with Maitreya in the Tushita Heavens, think with earnestness: “I will go to the presence of Maitreya in the Tushita Heavens, for the hour has struck for me here in the Intermediate State.” By that wish, you will be born miraculously inside a lotus blossom in Maitreya’s presence.
What It Means¶
This passage offers the direct path to liberation through supernormal birth. Even if karmic obscurations remain, heartfelt aspiration can leap beyond samsara. The “Pure Lands” described here are not myths or external heavens but luminous states of mind where practice and awakening unfold effortlessly.
The text instructs: name your destination, choose it with clarity, and place your whole being in that vow. This is the art of conscious rebirth. The lotus blossom is a metaphor for rebirth without defilement — awakening directly into a field of compassion and wisdom.
This section also reveals something comforting: even if you have not achieved complete realization, your heartfelt longing — disgust for samsara combined with trust in the Buddhas — can carry you into a realm of safety and practice.
Reflection¶
Draw your attention to your heartbeat — the drum of life within you. Whisper:
Breathing in, I release the old paths.
Breathing out, I open to a Pure Land.
Alas, I have wandered through countless lives.
Let my longing for freedom ripen now.
May I be born in the Pure Land of Amitābha,
or in whatever Realm is best for awakening.
Within a lotus of compassion may I arise,
in the presence of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas,
free from defilement, ready to awaken.
I entrust myself wholly
to the Compassionate One.
Chapter 45: Womb-Birth: The Return to the Human World¶
O nobly-born, if supernormal birth into a Pure Land is not possible, and you must take birth in this world again, listen well.
With your foresight, look across the Continents. Choose the land where Dharma is strong and enter there.
When birth is near, you may see what looks impure yet smells sweet — a vision drawing you toward it. Do not be deceived. Appearances can mislead.
Choose carefully, directing your wish: “May I take birth as one able to serve beings — as a Universal Emperor, a Brāhmin like a great tree, the child of an adept, or in a family of faith. May I be endowed with merit and live to benefit all.”
As you enter the womb, send forth waves of compassion. Transform the place of birth into a celestial palace. Believe that Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and the Great Compassionate One bless your new life.
But beware: through karma, good wombs may appear bad, and bad wombs good. Do not cling. Do not reject. Enter impartially, with a mind free from attraction or repulsion.
If you cannot do this, take refuge in the Precious Trinity, in the Great Compassionate One. Cast off longing for children, wealth, or kin — they cannot help you now. Enter upon the Light of the devas or the Yellow Light of humans.
What It Means¶
This passage is a teaching in humility and discernment. If liberation has not been secured, we are guided to choose wisely where to return. Even the act of entering the womb can be done with clarity, compassion, and devotion.
The warning is clear: do not be fooled by appearances. What looks inviting may bind you to suffering; what seems difficult may actually be a doorway of blessing. The art is to release both attraction and repulsion, entering with neutrality. This is a profound practice even for daily life: to step into circumstances without clinging or aversion, but with steady presence.
Most importantly, this section reminds us to direct intention. Even if rebirth is inevitable, you can choose to dedicate it for the good of all beings. You can shape the trajectory of your return by aligning it with compassion and Dharma.
Reflection¶
Rest your mind like a leaf on still water. From that calm, say:
Breathing in, I release clinging and fear.
Breathing out, I choose the path of compassion.
May my rebirth be a blessing,
a chance to serve and awaken.
Though appearances deceive,
I rest in impartiality.
O Great Compassionate One, guide me.
May the womb become a temple,
my life a gift to all beings.
Chapter 46: The General Conclusion¶
Those who are well-practiced may not even need to pass through the Intermediate State at all — they will rise straight upward, liberated at the moment of death. Others, a little less practiced, may recognize the Clear Light or one of the Deities in the first two weeks, and so be freed.
For those of heavier karma, there are still many “turning points,” many rungs of the ladder, where recognition may happen. Even the weakest, if they hear this Teaching, can find refuge and turn from misery toward a human birth where Dharma may be practiced again.
This is why this Thödol is read at the bedside of the dying and to the departed. For in the Bardo the mind is clear, sensitive, and easily influenced. A single reminder can turn the heart toward liberation. The words need only be heard — even imperfectly, even without full comprehension — and they take root.
Therefore, let it be read. Let no one despair. Even those with the heaviest burdens of karma can be lifted. Let no one say, “It is too late.” This Teaching is the great bridge, carrying us across.
What It Means¶
The conclusion is a reminder of hope and mercy. The path through the Bardos is not a single doorway but many. At each stage there is another chance to recognize, to turn, to be freed. The text itself is a compassionate companion: it liberates by being heard, by being remembered, even by being seen.
For the living, the message is clear: prepare now, while breath still fills the body. Commit the teachings to memory, let them shape the heart. But also, know this: even if you feel unready, even if you falter, compassion still pursues you into death. There is always another chance.
This is the great promise: no one is abandoned. However far one falls, the Divine Light seeks us out.
Reflection¶
Feel the space between your breaths widen. Let your soul speak:
Breathing in, I remember there is always a way home.
Breathing out, I rest in the embrace of compassion.
Even if I stumble, may I be guided.
Even if I forget, may I be reminded.
Even if I fall, may I rise again,
drawn upward by the Light.
May I carry this hope into my life now,
so that at the hour of death,
I will not be afraid,
but recognize the Radiance
and walk in peace.
Invocation of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas¶
O Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, dwelling in the ten directions,
full of compassion, wisdom, and love,
seeing with the divine eye,
protectors of all beings—
come now through the power of your great compassion.
Accept these offerings, both those placed here
and those offered from the heart.
O Compassionate Ones,
you who hold the wisdom of understanding,
the love that heals,
and the power to protect beyond measure—
here before you, one of your children (name)
is passing from this world to the next.
The journey is great.
The friends of this life cannot go along.
He enters the dark,
he walks a steep and lonely path.
He is carried by the winds of karma,
swept into the silence,
driven onward by forces unseen.
No strength has he now;
this is the time when all must go alone.
O Compassionate Ones, defend him who is defenseless.
Protect him who has no protector.
Be his strength, his kin, his refuge.
Keep him safe from the deep shadows of the Bardo.
Turn him away from the storm-winds of karma.
Turn him away from the terror of the Lords of Death.
Save him from the narrow passageways of fear.
O Compassionate Ones, let not your mercy grow faint.
Do not forget your ancient vows.
Hold him fast with the hook of your grace.
Let not the weight of karma cast him down.
O Buddhas, O Bodhisattvas, O Holy Trinity,
carry him beyond the suffering of the Bardo.
(Recite this prayer three times, with humility and faith.)
The Path of Good Wishes for Saving from the Narrow Way of the Bardo¶
1.
O Buddhas and your sons, dwelling in the ten directions,
O vast ocean of Peaceful and Wrathful Conquerors,
O Gurus, O Divine Mothers, O faithful Dākinīs—
hear us now through your great love.
We bow before you, radiant assembly of Guides and Mothers.
Out of your compassion, lead us on the Path.
2.
When, through illusion, we wander in the cycle of birth and death,
may the clear light of listening, reflection, and meditation shine.
May the Gurus of the Lineage walk before us,
may the Mothers stand behind us,
may we be saved from the fearful narrow passageway of the Bardo,
and be placed in the perfect state of Buddhahood.
3.
When anger drives us in the Sangsāra,
may the clear light of Mirror-like Wisdom appear.
May Lord Vajrasattva lead us,
may the Mother Māmakī guard our way.
May we be saved from the narrow passageway of the Bardo,
and be placed in the perfect state of Buddhahood.
4.
When pride blinds us in the Sangsāra,
may the clear light of Equal Wisdom shine.
May Lord Ratnasambhava lead us,
may the Mother, She-of-the-Buddha-Eye, guard our way.
May we be saved from the narrow passageway of the Bardo,
and be placed in the perfect state of Buddhahood.
5.
When attachment binds us in the Sangsāra,
may the clear light of Discriminating Wisdom shine.
May Lord Amitābha lead us,
may the Mother of White Raiment guard our way.
May we be saved from the narrow passageway of the Bardo,
and be placed in the perfect state of Buddhahood.
6.
When jealousy consumes us in the Sangsāra,
may the clear light of All-Performing Wisdom shine.
May Lord Amoghasiddhi lead us,
may the faithful Mother Tārā guard our way.
May we be saved from the narrow passageway of the Bardo,
and be placed in the perfect state of Buddhahood.
7.
When ignorance covers us in the Sangsāra,
may the clear light of Wisdom-as-Reality shine.
May Lord Vairochana lead us,
may the Mother of Great Space guard our way.
May we be saved from the narrow passageway of the Bardo,
and be placed in the perfect state of Buddhahood.
8.
When fear and illusion chase us in the Sangsāra,
may the clear light of fearless Wisdom shine.
May the Wrathful Ones lead us,
may the Goddesses Rich-in-Space guard our way.
May we be saved from the narrow passageway of the Bardo,
and be placed in the perfect state of Buddhahood.
9.
When old habits pull us in the Sangsāra,
may the clear light of Spontaneous Wisdom shine.
May the Holders of Knowledge lead us,
may the Mothers and Dākinīs guard our way.
May we be saved from the narrow passageway of the Bardo,
and be placed in the perfect state of Buddhahood.
10.
May the element of space not rise as an enemy;
may we see the Realm of the Blue Buddha.
May the element of water not rise as an enemy;
may we see the Realm of the White Buddha.
May the element of earth not rise as an enemy;
may we see the Realm of the Yellow Buddha.
May the element of fire not rise as an enemy;
may we see the Realm of the Red Buddha.
May the element of air not rise as an enemy;
may we see the Realm of the Green Buddha.
May even the rainbow lights not rise as enemies,
but may all the Realms of the Buddhas be revealed.
May all sounds be known as our own sound.
May all radiances be known as our own radiance.
May the Three Bodies of Buddha be realized in the Bardo.
The Root Verses of the Six Bardos¶
1. The Bardo of Birth
O now, as the Bardo of Birth dawns before me:
May I abandon idleness—this human life leaves no room to waste.
May I enter into truth without distraction—listening, reflecting, meditating.
May I recognize the nature of appearances and of mind,
and awaken to the Three Bodies of Buddha.
Since I have attained this rare human form,
may I not let it slip away in idleness.
2. The Bardo of Dreams
O now, as the Bardo of Dreams dawns before me:
May I abandon the corpse-like sleep of ignorance.
May I keep awareness resting in its natural state.
May I recognize the dream as dream,
and train in the Clear Light of Illusory Transformation.
Not sinking in sloth like an animal,
may I blend the practice of dream and waking life,
holding them both as precious.
3. The Bardo of Meditation
O now, as the Bardo of Meditation dawns before me:
May I abandon distraction and illusion.
May I rest in endless, undistracted samādhi.
May I gain steadiness in both visualization and completion.
At this time of one-pointed practice, with all else set aside,
may I not fall under the sway of passions that confuse and dull the mind.
4. The Bardo of Death
O now, as the Bardo of Death dawns before me:
May I abandon craving and clinging to worldly things.
May I remain undistracted in the vast space of luminous teaching.
May I dissolve into the unborn sky of freedom.
The hour has come to part from this body of flesh and blood—
may I know it as impermanent, as an illusion, and let it go.
5. The Bardo of Reality
O now, as the Bardo of Reality dawns before me:
May I abandon fear, awe, and terror of appearances.
May I recognize them all as my own mind’s creations.
May I know them as illusions of the Intermediate State.
For it is said: “There comes a time when the turning point is reached—
fear not the hosts of Peaceful and Wrathful forms; they are your own thought-forms.”
6. The Bardo of Rebirth
O now, as the Bardo of Rebirth dawns before me:
May I hold one-pointedly to a single pure intention.
May I carry on the stream of good deeds without wavering.
May I close the womb-door and remember to turn away.
The hour has come when pure love and steadfast energy are needed.
May I cast off jealousy and rest in meditation on the Guru, the Father-Mother.
7. The Call of Urgency
O procrastinating one, blind to the certainty of death,
spending yourself in the useless busyness of this life,
you squander your great opportunity.
Mistaken indeed will you be, if you return empty-handed.
Since the holy Dharma is your true need,
will you not devote yourself to it—even now?
Epilogue
So speak the Great Adepts with devotion.
If the guru’s chosen teaching is not held in heart and mind,
will you not betray yourself?
It is of utmost importance that these Root Words be known.
The Path of Good Wishes which Protects from Fear in the Bardo¶
1.
When the thread of my life is cut,
and no relative or friend can help,
when I wander alone through the Bardo—
O Conquerors, Peaceful and Wrathful,
through your boundless compassion,
dispel the darkness of ignorance.
2.
When I wander alone, parted from those I love,
and my own empty thought-forms rise before me,
may the Buddhas, with their great compassion,
remove fear and terror from the Bardo.
3.
When the radiant lights of the Five Wisdoms shine upon me,
may I not be terrified, but know them as my own true nature.
When the Peaceful and Wrathful forms appear before me,
may I recognize them, and find the fearless assurance of the Bardo.
4.
When I suffer from the weight of my own past actions,
may the Peaceful and Wrathful Conquerors lift that misery.
When the Sound of Reality roars like a thousand thunders,
may I hear it as the melody of the Great Teaching.
5.
When there is no protector, and karma must unfold,
I call upon the Peaceful and Wrathful Conquerors—protect me.
When karmic habits bring suffering,
may the blissful Clear Light of Samādhi shine upon me.
6.
When I take on a supernormal birth in the Bardo,
may the deceits of Māra not arise.
Wherever I arrive, wherever I go,
may I not be shaken by fear or illusion.
7.
When the roar of beasts terrifies me,
may their cries transform into the holy sound of the Six Syllables.
When snow, rain, wind, and storm press upon me,
may I see with the clear eyes of Wisdom.
8.
May all beings wandering with me in the Bardo,
without jealousy or rivalry, find birth in higher realms.
When hunger and thirst torment me,
may I be free from their sting, free from the pains of heat and cold.
9.
When I behold my future parents in union,
may I see them as the Divine Father and Mother,
the Peaceful and Wrathful Conquerors.
May I gain the power to choose birth for the good of others,
and obtain a perfect body, radiant with signs of blessing.
10.
May I obtain a strong body for service,
so that all who see or hear me may be liberated.
May the weight of evil karma not follow me,
but all merit increase and multiply.
11.
Wherever I am born, may I meet the Peaceful and Wrathful Deities.
May I walk and speak at birth,
with a mind that remembers past lives
and does not fall into forgetfulness.
12.
In all arts and sciences, great and small,
may I master them simply by hearing or seeing.
Wherever I am born, may it be auspicious.
May all beings everywhere be blessed with happiness.
13.
May I, and all beings,
become like the Peaceful and Wrathful Ones themselves—
equal in body, in followers, in lifespan, in realm,
and in the goodness of their holy names.
14.
Through the blessing of the countless Peaceful and Wrathful Ones,
through the gift-waves of Pure Reality,
through the power of devotion of all mystic practitioners,
may all wishes be fulfilled, here and now.
Thus ends The Path of Good Wishes which Protects from Fear in the Bardo.
The Colophon¶
Through the pure intention with which this was made,
and through the merit it carries,
may all beings without protection—our Mothers through countless lives—
find refuge in the state of Buddhahood.
May the radiant light of auspiciousness
shine forth to bless the world.
May this Book itself be a source of blessing.
May virtue and goodness reach their fullness in every way.
Epilogue¶
We have walked together through the landscapes of the Bardo Thödol—visions radiant and terrifying, prayers of protection, reminders of what endures when everything else falls away. Though the imagery may feel strange or unfamiliar, the heart of these teachings is simple: do not be afraid. Whatever arises—light or darkness, beauty or horror—it is the mind’s own reflection, passing like clouds through the vast sky of awareness.
For centuries, these words have been read to the dying as a lamp in the night. Yet they are not only for the moment of death. They are for all the small deaths and rebirths we live each day: the letting go of what no longer serves, the surrender to change, the courage to meet the unknown. In this sense, every one of us lives in a bardo, always standing on the threshold of something new.
The text closes with a blessing, and perhaps that is the best way to leave it—with a prayer of goodwill. May these words steady you when you tremble, soften you when you cling, and open you when fear would close you off. May they help you see that nothing is wasted, not even suffering, when it is held in the great light of compassion.
We cannot avoid the bardos. But we can learn to walk them with clarity, with trust, and with love. And in that walking, we discover the truth that death does not end the journey—it simply opens the way to another beginning.
A Final Blessing
May your steps be steady in every passage. May fear dissolve into light, and sorrow open into wisdom. May you remember, in life and in death, that you are never alone. The Compassionate Ones walk with you— always.