Bardo means “between two” — an interval, a gap. In Tibetan Buddhism it names the state between death and the next rebirth, traditionally lasting up to forty-nine days, during which the consciousness encounters a sequence of experiences and either recognises them for what they are or does not.

It is one of the more elaborate pieces of Buddhist doctrine, it is the subject of the most famous Tibetan text in the West, and it is not accepted by all Buddhist schools.

The disagreement #

Whether an intermediate state exists at all was a substantive dispute among the early schools.

Theravada says no. Rebirth is immediate: the death-consciousness (cuti-citta) is directly followed by the rebirth-linking consciousness (patisandhi-citta), with no interval whatever. The Theravada commentarial tradition argues the point explicitly, and the Kathavatthu records the position as contested.

The Sarvastivada, Mulasarvastivada, and most other schools say yes, positing an antarabhava, an intermediate existence. Since Tibet received the Mulasarvastivada tradition, Tibetan Buddhism accepts it and developed it further than anyone.

The canonical evidence is genuinely ambiguous. Passages describing a gandhabba present at conception, and references to beings “in search of birth,” have been read as supporting an intermediate state; Theravada commentary reads them otherwise.

The six bardos #

Tibetan systematisation extends the concept beyond death. Six bardos are usually listed, and the first three are states of ordinary life.

  1. The bardo of this life (kyenay bardo) — birth to death. This is itself an interval.
  2. The bardo of dream (milam bardo) — sleep, and the object of dream yoga practice.
  3. The bardo of meditation (samten bardo) — the state of absorption.
  4. The bardo of dying (chikhai bardo) — the process of death itself.
  5. The bardo of dharmata (chonyi bardo) — the luminous visionary state after death.
  6. The bardo of becoming (sipa bardo) — the search for rebirth.

The extension is doctrinally pointed. If ordinary life is a bardo, then the instructions for recognising the nature of mind in the after-death state are the same instructions as for now — and the practices are continuous rather than a separate discipline for dying.

The death bardos #

The dissolution #

Dying is described as a sequence of dissolutions, in which the elements composing the body and mind collapse in order.

Earth into water — the body feels heavy, strength fails, and the dying person may feel they are sinking or being crushed. Water into fire — the mouth and nose dry, fluids stop, and thirst may be felt. Fire into air — body heat leaves, digestion ceases, perception becomes unclear. Air into consciousness — breathing stops. Outer breathing ends here, and clinical death occurs.

Then the subtle dissolutions, described in terms of three visionary stages — the “white appearance,” the “red increase,” and the “black near-attainment” — as the subtle energies converge at the heart.

The clear light #

Then, on the traditional account, the clear light of death (ösel) dawns: the ground luminosity, the mind’s own nature, presenting itself directly and unobscured.

This is the critical moment. A practitioner who has trained in recognising the nature of mind — through Dzogchen or Mahamudra — may recognise it, and recognition at that moment is liberation.

Most beings do not recognise it. For them, the experience passes in an instant — traditionally, as long as it takes to snap the fingers, or for an accomplished practitioner considerably longer — and the process continues.

The bardo of dharmata #

The consciousness then enters a visionary state in which the peaceful and wrathful deities appear: brilliant, overwhelming, accompanied by sounds described as a thousand thunderclaps.

The text’s insistence is constant and is the heart of its teaching: these are projections of your own mind. Not external beings, not judges, not demons. The peaceful deities are the mind’s own luminous aspect; the wrathful are the same energy in a form that terror produces. Recognising them as such is liberation; fleeing them is not.

Alongside the brilliant lights of the wisdom-states appear dull, soft lights corresponding to the six realms. The consciousness, frightened by brilliance and drawn to softness, moves towards the dull lights — and that movement is rebirth.

The bardo of becoming #

Finally the search for rebirth. The consciousness has a “mental body,” can move instantly, can pass through matter, and may attempt to return to its former life and find it cannot be seen or heard by those it addresses.

Karmic tendencies assert themselves, the pull towards a particular realm strengthens, and at the moment of conception the consciousness enters. The text gives instructions for this stage too: how to close the womb-door, and, failing that, how to choose a favourable rebirth.

The traditional maximum is forty-nine days, with rebirth possible at any of the seven-day intervals — which is why the funeral rites are performed weekly for seven weeks.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead #

The Bardo Thodol, “Liberation Through Hearing in the Intermediate State,” is the text. It is a terma, discovered by Karma Lingpa in the fourteenth century, and is part of a larger cycle.

Its function is liturgical: it is read aloud to the dying and the dead, addressing them by name and instructing them about what they are encountering. Hearing is the operative verb in the title — the text works, on its own account, by being heard and recognised.

The Western reception is a story in itself. W. Y. Evans-Wentz’s 1927 translation gave it the title The Tibetan Book of the Dead, by analogy with the Egyptian Book of the Dead, and framed it through Theosophy. Carl Jung’s commentary read it psychologically. Timothy Leary, Ralph Metzner, and Richard Alpert adapted it in 1964 as a guide to LSD experience. Chögyam Trungpa and Francesca Fremantle’s 1975 translation, and Robert Thurman’s in 1994, are more reliable; Gyurme Dorje’s 2005 translation is the most complete.

The text is far better known in the West than in Tibet, where it is one liturgical text among many and is not regarded as the central statement about death that Western readers often take it to be. See The Tibetan Book of the Dead.

The psychological reading #

Chögyam Trungpa’s introduction to the 1975 translation argued that the bardo states are not only post-mortem but present now: that the six bardos describe recognisable modes of experience, and that the book is about how to live rather than only about how to die.

This reading is congenial to Western readers and is not simply an import. The six-bardo scheme, with its inclusion of life, dream, and meditation, already makes the point within the tradition — and the practical instruction for the after-death state is identical to the instruction for recognising the nature of mind now.

Where the modern reading departs from the tradition is in treating the psychological interpretation as the real meaning. Tibetan tradition holds both: the bardo is a literal state that beings literally pass through, and its structure is the structure of mind, which is why the same practice addresses both. See Buddhist Modernism.

A note on Sogyal Rinpoche #

The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying (1992) is the most widely read modern treatment of this material, has been used extensively in hospice and medical training, and is genuinely useful on the practical care of the dying.

Its author, Sogyal Rinpoche, was the subject of a 2017 open letter from eight senior students alleging physical, sexual, and emotional abuse over decades, and of a subsequent independent investigation commissioned by his organisation, Rigpa, which substantiated the allegations. He withdrew from his teaching role and died in 2019.

Readers should know this. The book’s content on dying is drawn from a long tradition and remains widely respected; its author’s conduct is a matter of record. See Women Teachers in Buddhism and Finding a Teacher.

Common questions #

Do all Buddhists believe in the bardo? No. Theravada explicitly denies an intermediate state. Tibetan traditions accept it; East Asian traditions have their own versions of the forty-nine-day period, generally with a more bureaucratic underworld imagery than the Tibetan visionary one.

Is forty-nine days literal? It is the traditional maximum, with rebirth possible at seven-day intervals. Some accounts have highly negative or highly positive karma producing immediate rebirth without any interval.

Can the living help someone in the bardo? The tradition says yes — this is the entire purpose of the readings and the weekly rituals, and of dedicating merit to the deceased.

Is the bardo the same as purgatory? No. There is no judgement, no punishment, and no external agency. The bardo is a transitional state in which one’s own mind manifests, and what happens is determined by recognition or its absence.

Should I read the Bardo Thodol? It is available and it is worth reading, ideally in the Fremantle/Trungpa or Gyurme Dorje translation with the introductions. Note that it was composed to be read aloud to someone else, not studied privately, and that Tibetan tradition assumes a practitioner encounters it alongside instruction.

What if I don’t accept any of this? The practical instructions — recognising that what appears is one’s own mind, not fleeing what is frightening, not grasping at comfort — are the same instructions the meditation traditions give for now, and they can be taken on that footing.

Sources & further reading #

Francesca Fremantle & Chögyam Trungpa (trans.), The Tibetan Book of the Dead (Shambhala, 1975) — the translation with the psychological introduction. Gyurme Dorje (trans.), The Tibetan Book of the Dead: First Complete Translation (Penguin, 2005) — the fullest version. Francesca Fremantle, Luminous Emptiness (Shambhala, 2001) — an extended commentary, and the best guide to the text. Bryan J. Cuevas, The Hidden History of the Tibetan Book of the Dead (Oxford, 2003) — the scholarly account of the text’s actual origins and use. Donald S. Lopez Jr., The Tibetan Book of the Dead: A Biography (Princeton, 2011) — on the Western reception.