Bardo

2024, February, Issue 83

For those who die

who die and then come back

to life in the same body, as

before, infinite blessings abound, for

those beings have tasted primordial wisdom

recalling what has eluded them in life,

remembering it as just so amazing;

This leads to a yearning that is so deep, yearning

to return to that, that which seems so much like home, that

that infinite expanse, that luminous glow, that

that wisdom beyond all reason, that that

that timeless state of blessing beyond being

beyond all that can reasonably be ascertained;

That yearning is yearning, just yearning

for something that is never

apart

from this moment, this life,

that taste of a pure expansive bright light is not

beyond

what is here now;

To remain living, while knowing that,

to remain in that knowledge is a blessing beyond all blessings,

there is no returning, we cannot return, because

you

have

never

left

that;

To know this while living, one must train the mind,

or reflect upon the last time you were dead,

one must look introspectively, at that,

one must relax, resting in that natural state of being,

one must endeavor to awaken to that, now,

awakening to what we already know, though we have forgotten,

one

must

merely

see that;

So, sit in this moment, without distraction, training in that,

to not be distracted in the least,

do that for one moment, then do that for the next

moment, and the next

moment,

in time

this life

appears as

that

infinite

brightness,

timeless luminosity.

~Robert Aho~

A poem from, Timeless Luminosity, pp. 111-112, ©2020.

One might wonder why I ask people to practice, if we are already here, in this light of Dharmakaya.  I ask that people practice everyday, making it a promise to me, making it a promise to yourself.  This is a samaya or sacred pledge.  I ask this so that your journey through the death bardo will be rewarding, rather than most disturbing.  If you prepare for death, through deep contemplation and even a little bit of meditation, your journey will be no trouble.

When I died, I instantly became a light so intense that we have nothing to compare that with on our tiny dull planet.  The only thing that comes close is when you catch a glimmer of that luminosity, that clear unobstructed brilliance, maybe when you meditate or when you dream.  It can be rather startling.

So, here I am living a normal life, suffused with a great deal of meditative practice, both in dreams and in daily life.  My body starts to fail, and I find myself undergoing a heart procedure.  I am not concerned about that.  I just let it happen.

Instantly, self completely disappears into Dharmakaya.  I am fully aware; however, self has disappeared, time has disappeared, even conceptual thought becomes barely a distant memory, held only by clear awareness.  I remain in that bright beyond bright condition for an eternity.

At some point, a splash of color, then a little bit of movement sort of jiggles.  I find a memory of this person who I had once been; and, the colors begin to turn into the most violent storms imaginable.  This is far more intense than anything we can experience in our tiny dull universe.

I meditated in this turbulent condition for around a hundred years.  Even though time was not the same in this energetic condition and there was no real way to measure, it was similar to a very long lifetime.  I chanted, I performed various mudras and songs, that’s all I did for a hundred years.  I could say that I was aware of all life everywhere, and it is far more extensive, as well as pervasive than we can ever realize as humans.  I was aware of this karma that had entangled me since time began.  I didn’t fixate on any of it.  It simply remained in pure awareness, without attachment or fixation.

Off in the distance I could hear people near my old body.  I was aware of each of them in every detail, their thoughts, their energy, what they were saying.  I could sense that they were worried about me.  One of them wondered what I was doing, as my hands had started to move.

“He must be a Buddhist,” one of the nurses said rather quickly.

“You could be right!” I said laughing, suddenly appearing in my body.  Everyone in the room and in the hallway outside laughed, except for my cardiologist.  He looked noticeably nervous and he was sweating.  “Could we do that again?” I joked.

“We are definitely not doing that again with you, Robert!”

After things simmered down a bit, I told the nurse that I had died, and asked if I could see the tracings.  She showed me how I had flatlined for about five minutes, then slowly started to come back from that.  People were generally quite surprised that I was in such good spirits.

This death bardo is just a gap between lifetimes that can be disturbing.  If we wish to not be bothered by that appearance, we need to prepare for death.  We need to learn who we really are.  If we can do so, then it is no problem.  We can awaken.

Blessings in Light,

Robert Aho