Posts by Jason Johnson4

The Tibetan Book of the Dead - The Great Awakening

Look, let's face it: death is the one thing we can't dodge. It shows up whenever it feels like it, and there’s no running away from it. But even if things get heavy, there's comfort to be found. Much like how The Bible serves as a pillar of faith and direction for millions, this exploration dives into some truly deep waters. This enlightening two-part series takes a gutsy look at sacred wisdom and tries to visualize what actually happens on the "other side." Plus, having it Narrated by Morgan Freeman just makes everything feel a bit more grounded, you know?

In "The Great Awakening," we follow an experienced mentor and his apprentice as they assist a local soul journeying through spiritual texts. They attempt to navigate that intense 49-day transition toward rebirth, all captured through stunning photography of rare, traditional ceremonies.

around 45 min


The Tibetan Book of the Dead - The Great Awakening 1a


The Tibetan Book of the Dead - The Great Awakening 1b


The Tibetan Book of the Dead - The Great Awakening 1c


The Tibetan Book of the Dead - The Great Awakening 1d


The Tibetan Book of the Dead - The Great Awakening 1e

A collection of spiritual teachings...

mistybison on the connection between Jung and The Tibetan Book of the Dead:

Jung clearly sees the power and breadth of the Tibetan model, but he occasionally trips up when it comes to grasping its true meaning and how to actually apply it. Honestly, Jung was limited—just like the rest of us—by the social frameworks of his own era. He was a psychoanalyst, essentially the founder of a specific school of thought. Naturally, psychotherapy and psychiatric diagnosis were the lenses through which he viewed everything.

The thing is, Jung misses the central concept of the Tibetan book. As Lama Govinda points out, this isn't really a book for the dead. It’s a book for those who are *dying*; which is just a fancy way of saying it's a book for the living. It’s about life and how to actually navigate it. The idea that it deals with actual physical death was basically an exoteric facade adopted to fit the prejudices of the Bonist tradition in Tibet. Rather than being some mortician's handbook, the manual is actually a deep dive into how to shed the ego, how to break out of the confines of personality into entirely new realms of consciousness, how to dodge those involuntary processes where the ego tries to limit us, and—most importantly—how to make that expansion of consciousness stick in our everyday lives.

Jung really struggles with this part. He gets close, but he never quite nails it. He had nothing in his conceptual framework which could make practical sense out of the ego-loss experience.


"The Tibetan Book of the Dead, or the Bardo Thodol, is a book of instructions for the dead and dying. Like the Egyptian Book of the Dead it is meant to be a guide for the dead man during the period of his Bardo existence...."

In this quote, Jung settles for the exoteric and misses the esoteric. Later on, he seems to get a little closer to the truth:

"... the instruction given in the Bardo Thodol serves to recall to the dead man the experience of his initiation and the teachings of his guru, for the instruction is, at bottom, nothing less than an initiation of the dead into the Bardo life, just as the initiation of the living was a preparation for the Beyond." or, in Christian terms, "Beyond" is not a world beyond death, but a reversal of the mind's intentions and outlook, a psychological "Beyond" or, in Christian terms, a "redemption" from the trammels of the world and of sin. Redemption is a separation and deliverance from an earlier condition of darkness and unconsciousness, and leads to a condition of illumination and releasedness, to victory and transcendence over everything "given."

Thus far the Bardo Thodol is, as Dr. Evans-Wentz also feels, an initiation process whose purpose it is to restore to the soul the divinity it lost at birth."

In another passage, Jung keeps wrestling with the idea but misses the mark yet again:

"Nor is the psychological use we make of it (the Tibetan Book) anything but a secondary intention, though one that is possibly sanctioned by lamaist custom. The real purpose of this singular book is the attempt, which must seem very strange to the educated European of the twentieth century, to enlighten the dead on their journey through the regions of the Bardo. The Catholic Church is the only place in the world of the white man where any provision is made for the souls of the departed."

...

Regarding the "how," the "why," and the "what for":

You’ve overlooked the fundamental premise of all genuine Buddhism and every true religion: to help living beings.

But why? If that's the goal, then why choose to bring joy or love to someone instead of simply killing them?
Why? Isn't that absurd?

It isn't.

Because even if suffering isn't "real"...

the person experiencing it certainly feels the pain....

Like the haiku poet Issa said after losing his little daughter:

That world of dew drops:
it might just be a dew drop—
and yet... and yet...

Edward Flores4 said:Some really bright thinkers have suggested that there’s basically only one major philosophical question left to ask:
Whether or not to commit suicide?

And honestly, that’s where the whole irony of spirituality lies... people tend to look at it as a path toward a "good and happy life," chasing those states of consciousness you see laid out in myths and sacred texts. But if you look closer, spirituality actually suggests that life itself is the singular problem we have to solve—and death is, quite frankly, the ultimate solution to the problem of living, which is described in a pretty prosaic way throughout various scriptures and legends.

Is that a "love" for death...? I don't know... personally, I don't think so. But there is a certain level of comfort to be found when I sit and think about it. I'm starting to realize that the point of life isn't necessarily waiting for it to slowly fade away from you, but rather dying for a great idea at exactly the right moment... Maybe a Buddhist would call that meditating on "impermanence"... I usually just call it thinking, but I definitely find some solace in the fact that at least death is a certainty. 🙂

🤣

Smart people realize that suicide isn't some grand solution to a dilemma. It’s really just a literal separation from the most basic, physical part of our earthly existence.

mistybison said:I recently finished reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Most people here are likely already familiar with this text, but for those who aren't, it outlines the journey of the soul after death as interpreted by ancient spiritual leaders. Its purpose is twofold: to prepare an individual for the afterlife while they are still living, and to provide guidance for loved ones to assist the deceased by reading specific passages aloud. The book explores existence beyond our physical realm—what many would call the astral plane—which serves as a bridge toward total liberation or reincarnation into the material world. It offers practical advice for navigating encounters with various benevolent or wrathful deities during judgment, ultimately guiding the soul toward choosing its next life if complete liberation isn't achieved.

Reading this book, I have concluded that achieving liberation after death is an incredibly difficult feat, likely reserved only for yogis who have already mastered it during their lifetime. Most people simply drift along, carried by the weight of their good and bad karma, failing to maintain a mind centered in emptiness. For the majority, rebirth serves as the inevitable next step—a second chance to pursue spiritual progress. The Tibetan Book of the Dead suggests that liberation can be achieved (though rarely) in the immediate moments following death if the individual is capable, regardless of their karma. This depends entirely on their ability to recognize that everything encountered while navigating Purgatory is merely a projection of their own mind. Every vision is just a fragment of the deceased's psyche: the peaceful deities represent their divine nature, the wrathful ones reflect their human side, and even "judgment" is nothing more than a dialogue between different aspects of the self. Even suffering is simply a product of a restless conscience. Nothing in the astral realm exists outside the individual's being; the entire experience is shaped by one's karma and personal perception. If the soul cannot realize this, they may attempt to find liberation through prayer and focus on a protective deity. If that fails and they are overwhelmed by the illusions of the external world, their karma will inevitably lead them toward a new birth, whether in human form here on Earth or in some other realm altogether.

What I find most fascinating here is the actual concept of liberation. If everything in the astral realm is just as unreal as the deceased themselves—if it's all merely a mental projection colored by the memories and personality traits of a past life (which arguably applies to our physical reality too, but let's not get sidetracked)—then if the mind is fundamentally formless, void, and uncreated, those memories and inclinations are nothing more than illusions. In that case, who exactly is being liberated, and what is actually gained through such a process? 🤷 That which has always been unborn and uncreated is eternally free. It remains untouched by the shifting shadows and colors of existence—perceptions that are merely illusions destined to dissolve once they recognize their own lack of substance. When these illusions scatter, any perceived cognitive Power dissolves along with them. Everything fades. This isn't an escape into some heavenly realm of bliss (as being reborn into such worlds is just another layer of illusion), which leads me to wonder: is "liberation" even the right word for this process? Perhaps "annihilation" or "vanishing" would be more accurate. If the unborn is inherently free and void, then the illusory self, upon realizing its true nature, simply dissolves in a flash of insight. In reality, nothing truly changes; what was always free remains so, and what was never free never truly existed. The ultimate question remains: to what end?

Doesn't this entire concept seem completely nonsensical? All that spiritual labor, practice, and devotion spanning aeons just to realize we are a "holographic program," living in a "holodeck," and made of uncreated light dust—only to dissolve back into that dust and lose any sense of "self"? It feels a bit absurd, doesn't it?

On an intellectual level, grasping this idea isn't difficult. Modern science provides plenty of support, and beyond that, we have our own personal experiences, intuition acting as a channel to universal knowledge, and the mind's capacity for abstract thought. Actually "achieving" such a state is undoubtedly much harder and requires immense discipline. Perhaps adopting this view of reality could simplify and beautify our lives. But why would anyone set the "annihilation of consciousness" as their ultimate goal? Why would we want to dissolve into the void? Usually, the answer given is to escape the suffering of birth and death. But who is actually escaping it? Once you realize the illusion, the one being born and dying is merely a vanishing act, while that which was never born or died lacks a "self" to begin with. To me, it all looks like a pointless cycle: non-existence, existence, then non-existence again. 🤷

I hope my point comes through clearly in this topic. 😁

What you’re describing is really just a secondary function of the Bardo Thodol. Its primary nature is initiatory. Because of that, calling it 'The Tibetan Book of the Dead' isn't exactly the most accurate title.

mistybison said:Everything that appears is just different facets of the deceased person's 'psyche': the peaceful deities are their 'divine' side, while the wrathful ones represent their 'human' side.

Actually, the peaceful deities and the wrathful ones are identical in essence. It's only our perception that makes them look different.

if everything is just a projection of their mind, colored by the memories and tendencies of their previous life

It's all a projection, sure, but at the same time, it's real. In the cultural context where this text originated, those two things aren't mutually exclusive.

who is being liberated from what, and what is gained through that liberation?

Well, if it manages to clear away questions like those, then it's worth it. 😁

The whole issue of the concept of illusion

Just because something is illusory or "unreal" doesn't mean it doesn't exist—not in the way we use the word "unreal" in a modern sense. It's considered unreal because it isn't primary; it's merely an emanation. When you realize something is illusory, that thing doesn't vanish; it simply finds its rightful place within the complete configuration.

If illusions are dispelled, then any cognitive power is dispelled too. Everything disappears.

Hmm, is that really how it works? I don't know about that.

Nothing really ever actually happens—what’s been free has always been that way, and what hasn't been free never even existed. The real question is: to what end?

That's a great question 😬
Though, honestly, it feels more like an excuse than a question.

Doesn't this whole concept seem completely nonsensical to you? All that spiritual work, those endless exercises and total devotion, pouring through form after form for aeons, just to realize we're some kind of "hologram"—that this is basically a "holodeck" and we're made of uncreated light dust? And then the goal is to dissolve back into that very same dust and lose any sense of "self"? Isn't that just a bit absurd?

Given those premises: yeah, absolutely. 😁

But why on earth would we set the "annihilation of consciousness" as our ultimate goal? Why would anyone actually want to unravel themselves into nothingness?

Well, you can look at "emptiness" a little differently. The emptiness described in Far Eastern esoteric texts isn't the same "void" used by Western interpreters, which seems to be what you're following here. Emptiness is perhaps only slightly more accurate among a bunch of fundamentally inadequate terms.

Lit: Shinichi Hisamatsu - Zen Flesh, Bone and Spirit

What you're describing when you talk about "annihilation," the original authors of the Tibetan Book of the Dead call the "Darkness of Unconsciousness."

And Dharmakaya isn't some black void of unconsciousness or some sort of erasure.

If we take the Tibetan Book of the Dead at its word, there's only "annihilation," not some realization of illusion that leads to happiness—since happiness (just like misery) is merely another layer of deception.

No, it's more like: if we take mistybison's interpretation of the same text...

Why isn't existence celebrated simply for being? Why is it viewed as inherently "suffering" or a "punishment," and why is the ultimate goal for every conscious being to dissolve into non-existence?

Because the only perspective from which that's even possible is the one you unfortunately label as "dissolving into non-existence."

That is precisely what the Tibetan Book of the Dead is about. The only issue, if you can even call it that, is the matter of identification.

Tibetan Yoga and Secret Doctrines

Edward Flores4 said:I wasn't actually talking about his specific commentary on the Tibetan Book of the Dead—that’s not what I meant—but rather more about his overall perspective on Eastern philosophies, mythologies, and those old folk tales we grew up with.

It’s pretty much the same story for everyone—it’s layered, deeply complex, and constant. You know, Eastern perspectives don't really place the same kind of weight on the things we Americans tend to obsess over—stuff like the subconscious, the collective unconscious, and all that deep psychological territory. To them, all of that is just Maya, just as much as our physical existence or our individual ego-consciousness.

Maya carries so much weight, but if you really strip it all back, what it means first and foremost is... Measurement—it’s funny how we think we have everything figured out just because we can put a number to it. We go through life obsessed with scales, rulers, and spreadsheets, convinced that if we can just quantify something, we’ve actually mastered it. But honestly? Most of the time, we're just measuring the shadow of the thing rather than the thing itself. Think about it like trying to gauge the quality of a meal at a local diner. You can look at the calorie count, check the price, or even weigh the steak—but none of those numbers will ever tell you if the food actually hits the soul, right? Or take something more abstract, like progress in a career or the depth of a friendship. You can track hours worked or texts sent, but those metrics feel so hollow when you're actually living it. I’ve been thinking lately about how much energy we waste trying to turn the intangible into data. We want certainty, so we reach for a ruler. But some of the most important parts of being human—intuition, connection, purpose—they don't fit on a standard scale. They require a different kind of calibration altogether. It's less about the math and more about the feeling.... or rather, when you try to "measure" him. When we dive into Eastern philosophy—the kind that suggests everything around us is just Maya—what we’re really talking about is how our minds are wired to slice up reality. We take this one massive, continuous flow of existence and start carving it into little, separate pieces—like a tree, a person, a stream, or even a shoe.

Let’s look at this through a simple lens—something we all deal with every single day. We can all easily tell someone our age, even though, if you really stop to think about it, that number is just an entirely arbitrary way of measuring a human being. I mean, when does life actually *start*? It's not like there's one universal clock ticking away from a single moment. There are at least a few different ways you could legitimately argue for where the count begins:
I’ve always felt that life doesn't just sort of "kick in" later on—it actually begins at the very moment of conception. It’s that initial spark, that singular point where everything starts, which I think is such a profound way to look at our existence.
I’ve always felt that life truly kicks off at that singular, defining moment—when an egg cell is finally fertilized. It's that tiny, precise instant where everything changes.
Life doesn't truly kick off until that embryo starts developing its own circulatory system—that's when things really get moving.
Life doesn't truly kick off until that embryo starts developing its own central nervous system—that's when everything changes.
Life doesn't truly kick off until a mother brings a child into this world—it’s that profound moment where everything shifts. It’s like when you finally flip the switch on a massive, complex machine and suddenly there’s actual power running through the system; before that, it was just potential, waiting to be realized. Everything changes once that connection is made.
Maybe it all actually traces back to that split second when Dad first laid eyes on Mom—or maybe it was her seeing him first (honestly, I'm just trying to be funny here, but there might be some truth to it).

It’s funny how we all just collectively decided that birth is the official starting line for "measuring" a life—even though there are plenty of other ways you could look at it. Honestly, death works the same way; we can define it through so many different lenses. Is it when breathing stops? When circulation ceases? Or maybe when someone stops responding to external stimuli or when brain activity flatlines? Because of all these variables, Eastern philosophies tend to view this whole concept of measurement as an "illusion." Now, I don't mean they're saying the physical reality we're observing isn't real—it definitely is. It’s more that the act of slicing our existence into these arbitrary little segments is what's illusory. We create these specific markers just so we have a way to wrap our heads around things and actually communicate them to one another. But at the end of the day... well, we're just dealing with words. think i I'm not quite sure what you're getting at here—it feels like we're starting from a blank slate. If there was a specific thought or a bit of a story you were trying to share, go ahead and lay it out for me. I’m all ears, and I’d love to dive into whatever it is you're thinking about once we get some more context on the table. It’s honestly no coincidence that you see those similarities popping up across so many different languages—it’s almost like there's an underlying pattern we're all tapping into.

So, here’s the thing— The way Maya views things doesn't actually push aside physical reality, consciousness, or the subconscious—it’s not about denying any of that. It’s more like... instead of saying those things don't exist, she's looking at how they all fit together in this much larger, interconnected framework. It isn't a rejection of what we can touch or feel, nor is it a dismissal of our inner minds; it's just a different way of organizing how everything hangs together....or whatever else comes to mind. It’s funny how we tend to break down massive, life-altering events into these little, seemingly disconnected pieces—almost like we're trying to make sense of a whirlwind by looking at individual raindrops instead of the whole storm. We compartmentalize everything, slicing up these huge experiences into manageable chunks just so we don't feel overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it all.It’s funny how we fall into this trap where we think we’re seeing cause and effect—this illusion of causality—which just feeds into that whole widespread prejudice that "what happened yesterday dictates what happens tomorrow." But if you really sit with it, the truth is much simpler: there isn't a chain of separate events at all. There is only one single event, and honestly? It hasn't even finished happening yet. It's always just that one, continuous moment.

It seems like most people following Eastern philosophies don't actually grasp the core tenets of what they’re studying. Instead, they get totally boggeduk by the metaphors and fall into this trap of believing that physical reality is just some grand illusion they need to "escape" from... which, honestly, doesn't tell me much other than the fact that most people—whether they’re in the West or the East—would rather die than actually sit down and think critically. Think about it: Americans tend to obsess over heaven, hell, and resurrection, while those following Eastern traditions fixate on Maya, reincarnation, and liberation. At the end of the day, it’s the exact same meal, just served in a different kind of packaging.

Jung really drives home this idea—based on what you find in the Tibetan Book of the Dead—that everything flips on its head at the moment of death. It’s like the whole process just reverses direction. Instead of the usual way we experience things, the mind hits this sudden encounter with "pure consciousness" or even a kind of "non-consciousness." If you don't manage to let go right then and there, you start that slow, heavy slide back down into the Maya.

I honestly can't wrap my head around how anyone gets the nerve to write about what people experience at the exact moment they pass away—all while signing their name like they’re some kind of living authority on the subject. It just feels fundamentally off, you know? 🤷

Phrases like "slowly sinking back into Maya" just don't make any sense to me—honestly, they’re a bit nonsensical. I mean, the only way you actually "exit" Maya is if you pass away or if you somehow manage to completely wipe your memory of language itself. Sure, we all face a little metaphorical death every single day, but let's be real: nobody has ever truly managed to forget their native tongue without essentially lobotomizing a significant chunk of their own brain.

Beyond that, I’m struggling to wrap my head around how this whole idea of "knowledge regarding the experiences of the dead" actually managed to weave its way into the sacred scriptures in the first place.
So, that person who actually went clinically dead... you know, the one who came back from the brink... they haven't really "died" in the permanent sense, have they? It’s like they’re still hanging in that middle ground—somewhere between here and gone.

It’s pretty much common knowledge at this point that the brain starts pumping out tryptamines when it senses an imminent shutdown. If you take a look at the accounts from people who have undergone DMT trips and compare them to those who have had near-death experiences—it’s wild how similar they are. Honestly, they’re almost identical to what people describe during high-dose LSD sessions, too. It's like the brain has its own built-in fallback mechanism for when things get critical.

To frame this as some kind of "near-death experience" is just being incredibly naive—honestly, it’s almost reckless. Relying on something like the Tibetan Book of the Dead to justify it feels like a textbook move from organized religion; they love using those kinds of "manuals" to spark hope for an afterlife, mostly because it keeps people compliant and raises their tolerance for whatever mess they're dealing with here on Earth. Think about it—if people stopped hoping for "something else" waiting for them on the other side, a huge chunk of the population might actually decide that the life they're living right now isn't worth putting up with. If that happened, religious institutions and even the government would find themselves in a much tighter spot than they are today.

If you really dive into the Tibetan Book of the Dead, you start to realize it isn't just some mystical guide—it’s actually an incredibly thorough breakdown of the human psyche. It maps everything out, moving from those deepest, most primal layers of our subconscious all the way up to the surface stuff we deal with every day. 🙂

Could you maybe expand on that just a little bit? I’d love it if you could walk me through the different layers—even just a high-level overview—and touch on what makes each one unique.

I can't believe I actually found this—it’s like stumbling upon a lost piece of history right in the middle of a busy afternoon. It really makes you stop and think about how much we miss when we're just rushing through life, isn't it? It reminds me a bit of that old feeling you get when you finally pick up a copy of the Tibetan Book of the Dead after hearing people talk about it for years—that sense that there's something deeper waiting to be uncovered if you just slow down enough to look. Anyway, I was thinking about what Edward Flores4 mentioned earlier—you know, how easily we get caught up in the noise—and it clicked. It's almost like trying to listen to a subtle melody while standing next to a jet engine at LAX. You have to find that internal quiet first. It's not always easy, especially when everything feels so loud and fast-paced, but it's worth the effort. Just a little thought I had while sitting here with my coffee.

But you really have to keep in mind that this book—it’s basically laying out exactly what happens... It just happened—totally out of the blue. It’s all about what happens after we cross that line—that transition from life to whatever comes next.

I’m having a hard time following the logic here. I mean, what kind of mental gymnastics does it take to actually believe that someone could pass away, successfully migrate to some sort of "next level," and then somehow manage to beam back detailed instructions from that other dimension?

Even if we decide to give them the benefit of the doubt—just for a second—and let's say, for the sake of argument, that this actually *is* possible... we’re still staring down the barrel of a massive, insurmountable problem:

What exactly is that thing people talk about—that transition where you supposedly survive death only to ascend to the next "level," versus the idea that you just slowly sink back down into Maya?

I’ve been thinking about this lately—the idea that consciousness is really just a reflection of the world around us, filtered through the lens of our own bodies. Think about it: the actual substance of what we experience is almost entirely composed of information about our environment, rather than anything internal to the organism itself. It’s all external data being processed. So, when the body finally gives out, that reflection of the outside world simply stops. Everything contained within that stream of consciousness effectively "survives" in a sense, but there isn't a single thing in that entire collection of data that you could truly call *yours*.

So, even if there actually were some kind of direct hotline between the living and the dead... I just don't see what could possibly make it through that transition. I mean, what part of us survives death in a way that we could actually recognize as an individual—as a specific identity, a distinct entity, or any kind of autonomous self? It’s hard to wrap my head around how anything stays intact once the lights go out.

I honestly think Jung was just trying to drive home the point that attempting a conscious "reverse process" can be incredibly risky. There’s this idea that if you dive straight into those deepest, darkest layers of your own psyche—hoping you'll somehow strike gold and find the ultimate "source"—you might actually lose your footing. It’s like trying to scuba dive into an abyss without enough oxygen; you might get caught in some intense mental states that you simply aren't equipped to handle, potentially leading someone straight toward psychosis or schizophrenia. It's a heavy warning about the dangers of going too deep, too fast.

Not only can it be dangerous, but honestly, it’s just completely pointless. When we all eventually pass away... there really isn't much sense in trying to suppress "Maya" in an attempt to mimic the state of consciousness that precedes physical death. There isn't anything spiritual, enlightened, or even meaningful about that approach.

If you look at it as a one-time experience—provided it's interpreted correctly—it can "reward" you by relieving that deep-seated fear of your own mortality. In doing so, it settles most of those nagging issues caused by the mind's internal narrative drama—you know, how the brain arbitrarily "measures" everything happening, chops it into little fragments, and then starts stressing out over non-existent connections between those random pieces of a supposed "whole." You could call it satori if you want, though satori isn't just the experience itself; it’s the experience *correctly understood*. And let's be real, interpretation isn't entirely dependent on the experience, though it's incredibly rare to find someone open-minded enough to grasp it through pure reason—so usually, the experience itself becomes the deciding factor.

For people who have had such an experience but totally misread what happened, Buddhists actually have a specific term for them—something like "mula" (and I don't mean a horse or a donkey).

Quincy:

Eastern traditions don't dig through the mind and its contents like that; instead, they cast the mind aside as Maya and focus immediately on the highest thing—pure spirit, pure consciousness, emptiness, nothingness, and so on. Which, ultimately, is exactly what the Tibetan Book of the Dead advises: turning your attention toward non-existence, meditation, or prayer to some higher Deity—regardless of what is happening in the moment, what you see, hear, or feel.

That practice is utterly senseless, and it runs perfectly parallel to Christian thought. Christians often preach the "insignificance of this life," frequently calling it a "temptation" or a "test" where passing successfully ensures "eternal life in the heavenly kingdom."

It’s basically throwing away the life you actually have for the sake of a potential payoff in the afterlife. Is there anything more futile than that?

This way of interpreting Eastern philosophies is actually just an Eastern version of popular religion; aside from the mythology, metaphors, and various flourishes, it doesn't really differ from Christianity.

Quincy:

And then we arrive at what I mentioned in my opening post: either existence with all its infinite contents, or the total annihilation of everything. Why would the latter be considered the ultimate spiritual goal?

There are several answers to that, and a few come to mind right now. 🙂

1) Because people love gravitating toward whatever looks cool. And let's face it—"cool" is mostly just a label for things we don't understand. Things we *do* understand feel pre-packaged, obvious, simple, ordinary, outdated, unattractive, and frankly, boring.

2) Because a monkey does what a monkey sees, and humans aren't all that different from monkeys. When people lack a better idea, they tend to just mimic what others are doing without ever stopping to ask why.

3) Because so many people are disillusioned with themselves and how lost they feel in the world, so they find solace in this exotic, alluring cocktail of nihilism, esotericism, mysticism, and religion... they slap the label "spiritual achievement" on it, and suddenly they’ve finally accomplished something, giving their lives "some kind of" meaning.

ps: Even though I "attacked" some of your points, I only did so to shine a light on some of the "sketchy" details within that concept. Looking at the discussion as a whole, I can tell you're already aware of most of these issues. So, please don't take this as an attempt to argue, insult you, or be verbally aggressive.🙂

One could argue that nobody can speak with any real authority on death unless they’ve actually gone through it themselves. And since, from what we can see, nobody ever comes back to tell the tale, how is anyone supposed to know anything about death or what happens once you're gone?

A Tibetan would probably counter with: "There isn't a single soul, really not one living being, who hasn't returned from death. The reality is that we've all died countless times before landing in this current incarnation. What we call birth is simply the flip side of death—like two sides of a coin, or an entrance and an exit on a revolving door."

It’s actually much weirder that none of us remember our own deaths; because of that total memory wipe, most people don't even believe they had a previous life. But, in the same way, they don't remember being born recently either—yet they certainly don't doubt that they were just born. They forget that active memory is only a tiny slice of our regular consciousness, while our subconscious keeps track of every single past impression and experience that our waking mind fails to hold onto.

Preface
Lam Anagarika Govinda

quietpilot87 said:Never actually read his stuff—not even once. 😁
I mean, honestly—I think motherhood is just one of those things that totally stalls your own growth.
Not that I’m saying every woman should jump into motherhood—not at all. Everyone's gotta do their own thing.

Man, you "electro-spiritual" types are something else, seriously.
Motherhood stalls growth? 🙄 Give me a break.

Anyway, what exactly are we talking about when you say "motherhood stalls development"?

shadowcobra13 said:I mean, let's be real—it’s a completely different ballgame when you lose your period due to extreme physical exertion. We're talking about elite athletes or girls struggling with anorexia. In those specific cases, losing your cycle doesn't actually trigger an estrogen drop in the same way people think. It's just... different.🙂

Some people act like reproduction is just for the uninitiated. It’s almost pretentious, isn't it? I remember reading this old bit about how energy works—sort of like how Carlos Castaneda used to argue—suggesting that when a woman gives birth, a literal portion of her vital essence transfers to the child. So, if you follow that logic to its conclusion... well, you see where this is going.🙂

What exactly would you even mean by "jang" when talking about a period? I'm sitting here staring at my screen, trying to wrap my head around that specific phrasing. Is it a vibe? A mood? Some kind of weird slang I missed while I was busy reading old biographies? Honestly, if we're talking about the sheer, unadulterated chaos of a monthly cycle, there are a million ways to describe it. It’s like being stuck in a permanent traffic jam on the I-95 during rush hour—just constant, irritating friction with no end in sight. Give me some context here. What's the angle?

Then again, there are plenty who think Castaneda was just some total hack.

So, there you have it...🙂

Nothing that isn't eternal is actually real. I don't care what you call it or how permanent it might seem right now—it’s all just an illusion, isn't it? 🙂

Ryan Wilson2 said:Well, I can tell you one thing for sure—I definitely didn't ban you because of your nationality or your hair color.

So, I guess it was just my massive chest? 🤣

Ryan Wilson2 said:How am I supposed to handle someone like you who just loves throwing insults around and making up stuff about me?

So, what, the reasons are just "private" now? 😉

And is it not an insult when you spend all your time sitting on the sidelines mocking people? 😉

Good grief, what a terrible moderator.

The pedagogy? Zero points.

As for creativity and entrepreneurship, they’re nowhere to be found either.

Wit? Absolutely no signal on that frequency.😬

And don't even get me started on tact.

But hey, I guess we didn't really deserve any better, did we?😳

Douglas Brown4 said:Well. I guess instead of all that, he should have just used some decent American street slang for a koan: "I don't give a damn about your goose."
It might be more understandable and simpler, maybe.

Or maybe, "I don't give a rat's ass about your goose." 😛

But it isn't 🙄

Adam Ross4... where on earth did you get that idea? 😲 😍
I mean, how else could it possibly be?

The truth is, anyone who actually knows what they're talking about always ends up agreeing with me. 😁 😉

PS. Does this mean we aren't just born with a default setting of "common sense" floating around in our heads? unknown 😢

Look, here’s my take. I’d honestly just scrap that whole empty, pointless word "ethical" altogether.

He refuses to eat... but why? Usually, there's actually a reason behind it...

So, what are those reasons? You have to actually listen to what the guy is saying. Figure out if he’s genuinely refusing food or if he's just bluffing...😁 Then, you try to address whatever is causing the hunger strike. But if that’s just not an option? Well, let him starve. If it comes down to it, even if it leads to death... that's just how it goes.

😉

goldeneagle2 said:If you really want to undergo a genuine transformation, you need more than just willpower. You need the right timing, a bit of luck, and the blessing to be initiated into a legitimate spiritual practice—like meditation—by an enlightened master.

But hey, true character is revealed in the struggle. The longer you can sit in uninterrupted meditation, the deeper the impact and the bigger the shift in consciousness. Blessings to everyone!

But here's what I'm wondering... does the one doing the initiating actually have to be "embodied"?
I mean, are we talking about a physical person, or something else entirely?😉

The topic itself is solid, but it’s missing that certain "je ne sais quoi" to really make it pop 😁

Grizli, even your "explanation" regarding the motives feels like you're playing it way too safe 😁

Shakta@Order Odonata 6

😉 😎 👋

Thanks, Jamie Newman4,

thanks for being creative 👋

ruggedfalcon2 said:it actually takes four different ingredients, not just one 😉

Flour, salt, water, and yeast 🤣

That silence of yours is doing just fine 🤣

Sandra Palmer10, maybe do a little "deep dive" into the whole concept of free will 😉

You might find that others—and honestly, even you yourself—start calling you a 😉 Maestro 😬

🙂 🙂 🙂