Walking in the Bardo

Because we have the luxury to do so, let us pause to contemplate the wonder which is corporeal incarnation–the condition most of us refer to as ‘being alive.’ Even the steeliest of empirical atheists must admit that incarnation is miraculous. Here we are: talking monkeys able to create skyscrapers, fax machines, temples, instant coffee, and atomic bombs. Techno-Monkeys on a Flaming Rock in Space!–Coming to a RealityTM near you!

Now let us consider this realm of experience as one who believes that the universe and all life in it relates to itself in concentric circles of being–layers which extend from below the Planck length to a Godhead with a mouth large enough to swallow the cosmos. To this person, each layer hums with life.

In Biology, we see how a drop of blood under a powerful microscope becomes a universe of mitochondria, ribosomes, and other cellular bodies all busy performing their solitary functions, wonderfully indifferent to the status of we–the larger organism.

Why would there not, then, be a layer of Being on the next plateau up from ours–one we cannot see or be aware of, but one on whom our survival depends.

God is what I am speaking of, or more exactly: Gods.

In a matter of minutes in 2011, I was converted from a skeptical agnostic to a polytheist. The reason for this abrupt ontological shift was a walk I took in, what I believe was, the Bardo.

In Buddhist thought, the Bardo is the realm the dead enter after corporeal death. They roam in this in-between land for 49 days (Tibetan Buddhism). The enlightened, during this time, are able to learn great lessons from the Bardo, so that they might earn a more generous rebirth. To a soul that is unpracticed, or one that gave its life to non-virtuous pursuits, the Bardo will be Hell.

* Forty-nine days: the length of time between death and rebirth.
* Forty-nine days: the point in an embryo’s development where Tibetans believe we are given a soul.
* Forty-nine days: the day sex is determined in embryonic development.
* Forty-nine day: when the pineal gland develops in the human brain.

In the west, Descartes hypothesized that the pineal gland is the “seat of the soul.” In Eastern spiritual traditions, the pineal glad co-ordinates with the ‘third eye’–a chakra point through which we might achieve cosmic consciousness.

We still don’t know much about the pineal gland, but here’s a bit of what we do know: In humans, the pineal gland grows to about the size of a piece of rice. The gland secretes melatonin, which regulates sleep. It’s also believed that the glad prevents the onset of puberty in children.

Also of interest is the hypothesis that the pineal gland is where dimethyltryptamine is created (DMT). DMT is believed to be responsible for the creation of dream states. It is theorized that the substance is the root of religious visions and near death experiences. The theory goes on to state that when we die, our pineal gland releases a major dose of DMT. Quite literally, death is a massive DMT trip.

For the sake of this discussion, I am prevented from detailing my inquiry into this matter further. We live, after all, in a post-privacy society where freedom of speech is not respected. We live in an era where the wisdom of shamanic practices, carried out by mystics throughout the millenia, is strictly forbidden.

I will say only this: From my time in the Bardo, I have seen that we live on the edge of a universe more profound than even the most audacious of scientific models. The universe can yawn at any moment, and we will be sucked into Brahma’s mouth.

The great eschaton that theologians are waiting for is already happening; it has been happening every moment of every day we have been alive. Time is a human construct; one that the universe cares little about.

Each of us will walk in the Bardo, each of us will see the light which permeates all things. Each of us will hear the hum of creation; the hum which called this realm into being.

We exist as the hum on a God’s lips. We are Brahma waking. We are Kali dancing. We are Mahakala steering the souls of the dead.

The hardest part of walking in the Bardo is leaving it behind. Every day I see that place, I hear its hum in my ear, I sense the presence of that which is not here.

I saw: the awe and terror of creation, the fragility of skin and bodies, the great expanse of the cosmic dance we dance.

The following mix is my closest approximation to that experience.

http://official.fm/tracks/264537