Liberation as the goal. But for what?

Wow, talk about missing the mark completely... I’d suggest you don't try to approach these books with pure logic alone, since they aren't exactly academic philosophy texts. The Tibetan Book of the Dead is essentially a guidebook for the deceased, offering them a chance to break free during that transition—basically avoiding being reborn into a cycle of bad karma or suffering. It’s all about progressing toward higher realms and achieving union with God or pure light. You’ve totally missed the point of the book!

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. 😁

Well, I'd argue that absurdity is just like a "rotten tooth"—you've got to pull it out! Once that's gone, you aren't left with some vague "love for death," but rather Death itself: pure, raw, and unadulterated. An enlightened being—someone who has truly transcended the ego—would essentially exist within the Bardo described in Tibetan texts. In that heavy, swirling mist, they don't cry out for some sort of "liberation"; instead, they ache for finality. The absolute end of both body and mind, leaving nothing behind, not even a memory—that is the only true "nirvana."
There’s actually a hidden riddle in the Nazarene's teaching that "the kingdom of heaven belongs to the poor in spirit." Honestly, isn't it true that religions preaching "ecstasy," "liberation," or "eternity" are just fundamentally childish?

quietpilot87 said:Liberation as the end goal. But for what?

Just messing around 😁 😉

Brilliant! 😍 😘

👍

placidharbor7 said:Well, I'd argue that absurdity is just like a "rotten tooth"—you've got to pull it out! Once that's gone, you aren't left with some vague "love for death," but rather Death itself: pure, raw, and unadulterated. An enlightened being—someone who has truly transcended the ego—would essentially exist within the Bardo described in Tibetan texts. In that heavy, swirling mist, they don't cry out for some sort of "liberation"; instead, they ache for finality. The absolute end of both body and mind, leaving nothing behind, not even a memory—that is the only true "nirvana."
There’s actually a hidden riddle in the Nazarene's teaching that "the kingdom of heaven belongs to the poor in spirit." Honestly, isn't it true that religions preaching "ecstasy," "liberation," or "eternity" are just fundamentally childish?

if they're crying out in a gloomy fog while stuck in the wrong waiting room for the end

@mistybison/">@@mistybison
I think I get what you're asking. My take is pretty simple: that sounds like Buddhism. They see breaking the cycle of birth and death and merging with God as the ultimate goal. But through my own research, I've realized that isn't the end game for me. Merging with a formless, omnipresent energy means losing your individuality and personality too. To me, that just feels like another way the ego tries to maintain control.
The nature of living beings is to want and to act. Like my guru used to say, I believe people eventually return to the material world to keep growing.
This creation exists so there’s room for every desire... which includes the possibility of merging with Him. But true liberation, at least how I see it, is being freed from the false ego, the fruits of your actions, and selfishness by knowing His personal form. That way, you can escape reincarnation while still entering a spiritual dimension where your character keeps evolving... where you can want and act without limits or conditions, other than love itself.
The Tao Te Ching is a great guide for breaking karmic cycles and such, but its ultimate purpose is debatable for the individual. So... just keep reading, exploring, and thinking. I have a feeling you'll find the answers you're looking for when the time is right.
Pranam

Edward Flores4 said:I have to start by saying that, in my view, Carl Gustav Jung’s contribution to how we understand different cultures—specifically through his work on archetypal collective and personal unconsciousness—is easily one of the most massive achievements in the entire field of psychology and comparative mythology. It’s foundational stuff. And while he’s the heavyweight here, you really can't talk about this without bringing Joseph Campbell into the conversation. Campbell took everything Jung started and pushed comparative mythology into a whole new realm, even stepping in to refine or correct some of Jung’s ideas in ways that were honestly pretty vital for the field to move forward.

Now that we’ve finally cleared the air on that, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that when it comes to the supposed divide between the Easterner and the Westerner mindsets—I absolutely cannot get behind what Carl Gustav Jung was saying.

It’s funny how history repeats itself—even in the minds of geniuses. Take Carl Gustav Jung, for instance. Much like a lot of people do today, he ran headfirst into Hindu philosophy and that whole Eastern style of archetypal mythology, and he fell into a bit of a naive trap. He essentially assumed that Easterners were inherently more advanced than Westerners—that, as a collective, they were sitting at a higher "developmental level" psychologically speaking. He spent a good deal of time experimenting with their meditative techniques, too, but he ended up walking away with this somewhat skewed conclusion: that these practices were actually dangerous for Westerners. In his view, they just led to pure frustration because we seemingly lacked that specific "developmental level" that Easterners supposedly possessed. It was a classic case of looking through a lens that didn't quite account for the full picture.

In those circumstances, his perspective was only right to the extent that it would have been incredibly arrogant of him to assume his own struggle to master those techniques meant the methods themselves were flawed. He wasn't trying to undermine their credibility—mostly because the underlying cosmology actually makes a lot of sense—but rather, Carl Gustav Jung suggested that Americans just aren't quite "ready" for them yet. It’s like trying to run a marathon before you've even learned to walk; if we ignore that gap in readiness, we’re just setting ourselves up for failure. If you jump into it too soon, all you end up with is a massive amount of frustration from the sheer inability to control your mind the way those practices claim you should.

I think what Carl Gustav Jung missed back then was this fundamental point—these methods aren't actually "techniques" in the way we usually think of them. They aren't just tools you pick up and use to get a specific result. Instead, they’re more like a continuous dialogue. It reminds me of that line from William Blake: "The fool who persists in his folly will become wise." That’s really where the magic happens. These practices exist to force a confrontation with the reality that you simply cannot control your own mind. Once you hit that wall and realize how futile that struggle is, you start to see things differently. You begin to understand that "fate" isn't some external force crashing into your life from out of nowhere—it’s actually something we build for ourselves, brick by brick, through our own actions and patterns.

In other words, coming from that typical academic background we see in the West, Carl Gustav Jung wasn't exactly expecting to run into a completely different philosophy of "learning" once he encountered the traditions of the East. Where those Eastern perspectives really had the upper hand—and this is a subtle but massive distinction—was in their understanding that you can memorize every single doctrine and dogma in the book, yet still walk away with your old, biased way of seeing the world completely intact. It’s a bit like memorizing a cookbook without ever actually tasting the food; you have all the data, but zero actual nourishment. Because of that, he missed the chance to really question whether the techniques being offered were even valid, mostly because he was operating under the assumption that, just like back home in the States, education is always supposed to provide concrete, tangible answers. But the teachings from the East operate on a different wavelength entirely—they’re based, as William Blake would put it, "on the straight guidance of a fool."

If someone truly believes the world is flat, just send them out for a walk toward the edge—and make sure they stay in a perfectly straight line. Once they eventually loop right back to where they started, they’ll have to admit, at the very least, that the earth has a cylindrical shape. 🙂

Look, Carl Gustav Jung reached some incredible conclusions; he kicked open so many doors and handed us a toolkit that is still indispensable today. But even he tripped up occasionally—and honestly, we can't hold that against him. If he had claimed to be infallible, well, that would have just been pure arrogance on his part.

Quincy:

If this uncreated, unborn, infinite, and free void is indeed the only true reality, there's probably a reason why its surface gave rise to this illusion of "me" and "the world." Whether it’s a cosmic game or just the inherent nature of that reality—creating diverse forms out of mist and foam only to dissolve them with a single breath—why wouldn't that very form be the greatest treasure of all? Why devalue it, or feel this urge to destroy it and melt it back into the nothingness? Why isn't existence celebrated simply because it manifests in some form? Instead, we tend to view it as mere "suffering" or a "punishment," acting as if the ultimate goal for every conscious being is to unravel back into non-existence.

Now, I can only speak for myself here. For me, life is something to celebrate. I try to soak up as much of it as possible, fully aware that it's fleeting and, from my perspective, ultimately quite nonsensical. Life is basically a "function" or a "characteristic" of the universe—a way for the cosmos to create the variety and complexity it clearly craves. In that sense, life is a disruption of equilibrium; while it lasts, it drives the dynamics of conflict, violence, fragmentation, and isolation. Life IS a problem, with a capital "P."

But because I understand what that "function" actually is, I manage to embrace whatever comes my way with equal enthusiasm... whether it's pain or pleasure. That enthusiasm comes from the simple fact that, sooner or later, I'll return to a state of "equality," and my specific little bubble of consciousness—with all its built-up frustrations, memories, hopes, and philosophies—will finally be released from that pressure.

In a way... this IS a dream that will one day end, and all of this is just a temporary illusion—but while the dream is happening, it is my one and only reality.

Anyway... trying to read ancient texts without a deep understanding of the specific culture and cosmology of the era they were written in usually leads to some pretty massive misinterpretations.

Besides, you shouldn't take even verified, world-class authorities like Carl Gustav Jung for granted. Everyone misses the mark somewhere. Whenever I read a book and can't find at least one point where I disagree with the author, I KNOW I haven't actually grasped what they were really trying to say.

It's the same with me—if you can't find at least one thing to disagree with me on, it means you didn't really understand me. Because I definitely get things wrong sometimes, and I'd actually prefer if people pointed those flaws out. 🙂

Regarding the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Jung isn't actually discussing a divide between Eastern and Western minds, but rather different methods of exploring the psyche. The mind is fundamentally the same for everyone—it is layered. People in the East simply don't place as much emphasis on the things Americans focus on, such as the subconscious or the collective unconscious, because they view all of that as Maya, just as much as our material existence and individual ego. Jung is merely pointing out that, according to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the process works in reverse at the moment of death: the mind encounters "pure consciousness" or "non-consciousness." If one fails to let go at that moment, they begin to sink back into Maya—first confronting the deepest layers of the human psyche before slowly ascending toward rebirth, physical existence, and individual consciousness. The Tibetan Book of the Dead essentially provides a highly detailed map of the human psyche, moving from the deepest depths to the surface. 🙂

However, it is important to remember that this book explains what happens spontaneously after death. I believe Jung is simply emphasizing that attempting to consciously trigger this reverse process can be extremely dangerous. In an attempt to dive into the deeper layers of the mind hoping to reach the "source," a person might become trapped in mental states they cannot handle, potentially leading to psychosis or schizophrenia. Eastern traditions don't dig through the contents of the mind in that manner; instead, they discard the mind as Maya and focus immediately on the highest state—pure spirit, pure consciousness, emptiness, or non-existence. This is precisely what the Tibetan Book of the Dead advises throughout: turning attention toward non-existence, practicing meditation, or praying to a supreme Deity—regardless of whatever sensations, sights, or sounds are being experienced in that moment.

placidharbor7 said:Well, I'd argue that absurdity is just like a "rotten tooth"—you've got to pull it out! Once that's gone, you aren't left with some vague "love for death," but rather Death itself: pure, raw, and unadulterated. An enlightened being—someone who has truly transcended the ego—would essentially exist within the Bardo described in Tibetan texts. In that heavy, swirling mist, they don't cry out for some sort of "liberation"; instead, they ache for finality. The absolute end of both body and mind, leaving nothing behind, not even a memory—that is the only true "nirvana."
There’s actually a hidden riddle in the Nazarene's teaching that "the kingdom of heaven belongs to the poor in spirit." Honestly, isn't it true that religions preaching "ecstasy," "liberation," or "eternity" are just fundamentally childish?

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

wiredcanyon6 said:@mistybison/">@@mistybison
I think I get what you're asking. My take is pretty simple: that sounds like Buddhism. They see breaking the cycle of birth and death and merging with God as the ultimate goal. But through my own research, I've realized that isn't the end game for me. Merging with a formless, omnipresent energy means losing your individuality and personality too. To me, that just feels like another way the ego tries to maintain control.
The nature of living beings is to want and to act. Like my guru used to say, I believe people eventually return to the material world to keep growing.
This creation exists so there’s room for every desire... which includes the possibility of merging with Him. But true liberation, at least how I see it, is being freed from the false ego, the fruits of your actions, and selfishness by knowing His personal form. That way, you can escape reincarnation while still entering a spiritual dimension where your character keeps evolving... where you can want and act without limits or conditions, other than love itself.
The Tao Te Ching is a great guide for breaking karmic cycles and such, but its ultimate purpose is debatable for the individual. So... just keep reading, exploring, and thinking. I have a feeling you'll find the answers you're looking for when the time is right.
Pranam

Life is essentially a window of opportunity for a person to progress, and wherever you stand the moment your physical body gives out is where you pick up right where you left off. As for "liberation," it's pretty subjective. We shouldn't overthink death too much; it's just a natural part of life. Unfortunately, plenty of us make a huge drama out of it when we don't really grasp what it is. Why obsess over reaching paradise when you've been given this body and this life to find happiness right here, right now? Honestly, throughout all of human history, the drive to know God has been the direct result of our physical separation from Him. In an innocent, almost fearful way, humans try to rebuild that connection because the spiritual self suffers from that sense of being apart. Until we settle our business here, there's no going back.

amberbadger8 said:..so, is life itself absurd?

Susan Kim18 said:...well, isn't it?

I don't know. Is there even much to say? Perhaps not. I find myself wondering if we are all just circling the same drain, waiting for a sign that never comes. Or maybe we are simply looking in the wrong direction entirely. Who can truly say? It seems a bit futile to dwell on it too long, doesn't it? Just more noise in an already crowded room. The user says:
Perhaps from our perspective—given that certain inherent dose of pessimism we carry around—it feels that way. But I suspect you sense it isn't quite like that. Is it possible? 🙂

😍

She’s right. 😉

Pessimism doesn't actually stem from absurdity... rather, it comes from the expectation that there is some inherent meaning waiting to be found—which, let’s face it, you aren't going to find.

Absurdity is a bit like a jigsaw puzzle... you piece together something grotesque, and yet, there is a certain fascination in it. Truth shouldn't be a source of sorrow, nor should the absurd. When things feel heavy or depressing, isn't it just because we are clinging to illusions?

I don't know... I suppose I find myself dwelling on this topic as well.

I have a certain sense of how this might unfold... and I certainly wouldn't say it requires a total shutdown.
It all depends on how you define a deity, or even a creator... does it?
If the Creator fashioned you in His own image and "loves" you... then consciousness becomes everything. If consciousness is the ultimate reality, don't you think you eventually transcend into that state? And once you're there, isn't it true that you simply manifest whatever you desire?
Is death merely an act of imagination? A concept we conjure up to make sense of the void? One wonders if we are simply dreaming ourselves into non-existence. It is a curious thought, isn't it? To consider that what we perceive as the ultimate finality might just be a trick of the mind—a mental construct rather than a physical certainty. Is it possible that our consciousness creates the very end it fears? Perhaps. Or perhaps we are just overthinking the inevitable. 😉
I suppose I’m an optimist, though I can't help but feel that life itself is fundamentally absurd. Is there even a point? Perhaps not.
That is precisely why I am doing this. No amount of absurdity has managed to break me, nor has any shock left me paralyzed. It simply doesn't work on me.

One ought to strive toward being a more primal sort of person, I think. Not in the sense of physical savagery, of course—that would be quite uncivilized—but rather in the cultivation of one's own inner wildness. To nurture that specific, untamed side of the soul... a true free spirit. Is that not what we are all searching for?

mistybison said:Regarding the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Jung isn't actually discussing a divide between Eastern and Western minds, but rather different methods of exploring the psyche. The mind is fundamentally the same for everyone—it is layered. People in the East simply don't place as much emphasis on the things Americans focus on, such as the subconscious or the collective unconscious, because they view all of that as Maya, just as much as our material existence and individual ego. Jung is merely pointing out that, according to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the process works in reverse at the moment of death: the mind encounters "pure consciousness" or "non-consciousness." If one fails to let go at that moment, they begin to sink back into Maya—first confronting the deepest layers of the human psyche before slowly ascending toward rebirth, physical existence, and individual consciousness. The Tibetan Book of the Dead essentially provides a highly detailed map of the human psyche, moving from the deepest depths to the surface. 🙂

However, it is important to remember that this book explains what happens spontaneously after death. I believe Jung is simply emphasizing that attempting to consciously trigger this reverse process can be extremely dangerous. In an attempt to dive into the deeper layers of the mind hoping to reach the "source," a person might become trapped in mental states they cannot handle, potentially leading to psychosis or schizophrenia. Eastern traditions don't dig through the contents of the mind in that manner; instead, they discard the mind as Maya and focus immediately on the highest state—pure spirit, pure consciousness, emptiness, or non-existence. This is precisely what the Tibetan Book of the Dead advises throughout: turning attention toward non-existence, practicing meditation, or praying to a supreme Deity—regardless of whatever sensations, sights, or sounds are being experienced in that moment.

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

The Tibetan system doesn't really work in practice because they try to discard everything they actually are. But who you are is the direct result of everything you've lived through, and trying to bypass that is a perfect recipe for psychosis or schizophrenia. If you aren't willing to look your own shit in the eye during your life, you're never going to move forward. *Nosce te ipsum*. You can't just realize the power of maya overnight; it requires a long, slow evolution of the spiritual being. Getting initiated into those high-level states right out of the gate is basically a death sentence.

@Anthony Hayes49/">@@Anthony Hayes49

I wasn't talking about paradise, just a spiritual dimension of existence. Those heavenly realms are part of the material dimension you reach through good deeds, acting right, letting go of envy, and so on. But even there, time exists, along with a subtle level of selfish satisfaction in your own achievements. That’s a whole different topic, though..

I agree that this life is a gift. It's a chance to grow and move forward, like I said before. But when you offer that gift back to God—the Source everything flows from—you get the chance to join Him where He exists in His personal form alongside beings like Himself. That’s that spiritual dimension where everything is woven together by spiritual energy. To me, that's true liberation. There is a big difference for me between the idea of merging with Him and actually spending time with Him. That's all I meant in my first reply.

*It's just like a father teaching his child how to manage property or care for crops, people, and animals. When he finally sees they can handle it all themselves, he hands over the reins. In the same way, we have this physical body as a gift, but we aren't forced to die right now and leave behind everything we've built. If a living soul turns to the Source and asks, "What do You want, Father? What can I do for You?" He will answer by telling them to let go of selfish desires and control, and to dedicate themselves to pure love—just like many holy people have taught. That way, you can receive a spiritual body where nothing is impossible. Material desires lead to material universes; spiritual desires lead to spiritual universes.

So, my take is that even the desire to merge with the Absolute is essentially a material desire. It isn't ultimate liberation, just temporary. Building your own pure spiritual body through pure love, however, is the real thing. 😍
(Our Source... our Lord... whatever name you give Him... He wants us to have the same love for everyone that He does. Then, He is ready to grant us all His power and infinity so we can keep evolving endlessly in a state of selflessness and love.)

Susan Kim18 said:if they're crying out in a gloomy fog while stuck in the wrong waiting room for the end

There really isn't any right or wrong way to look at it, because the "exit" is always just the end of the road.

mistybison said:Regarding the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Jung isn't actually discussing a divide between Eastern and Western minds, but rather different methods of exploring the psyche. The mind is fundamentally the same for everyone—it is layered. People in the East simply don't place as much emphasis on the things Americans focus on, such as the subconscious or the collective unconscious, because they view all of that as Maya, just as much as our material existence and individual ego. Jung is merely pointing out that, according to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the process works in reverse at the moment of death: the mind encounters "pure consciousness" or "non-consciousness." If one fails to let go at that moment, they begin to sink back into Maya—first confronting the deepest layers of the human psyche before slowly ascending toward rebirth, physical existence, and individual consciousness. The Tibetan Book of the Dead essentially provides a highly detailed map of the human psyche, moving from the deepest depths to the surface. 🙂

However, it is important to remember that this book explains what happens spontaneously after death. I believe Jung is simply emphasizing that attempting to consciously trigger this reverse process can be extremely dangerous. In an attempt to dive into the deeper layers of the mind hoping to reach the "source," a person might become trapped in mental states they cannot handle, potentially leading to psychosis or schizophrenia. Eastern traditions don't dig through the contents of the mind in that manner; instead, they discard the mind as Maya and focus immediately on the highest state—pure spirit, pure consciousness, emptiness, or non-existence. This is precisely what the Tibetan Book of the Dead advises throughout: turning attention toward non-existence, practicing meditation, or praying to a supreme Deity—regardless of whatever sensations, sights, or sounds are being experienced in that moment.

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

An enlightened being would already be part of that "total annihilation." When placidharbor7 talks about "finality," they mean a literal end—to both the body and the spirit—leaving absolutely nothing behind, not even a memory.

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. 😁

Of course it looks absurd. Honestly, teachings like that don't even align with how the universe works.
Because consciousness *is* the manifest universe... that's its very NATURE, all that diversity that sits on the edge of "peace" (the stuff people try to reach in the Tibetan Book of the Dead)
You could meditate for a trillion years and you aren't going to DESTROY THE NATURE of the universe....
The nature of the universe is BIRTH and death!!!!
If you use basic logic, if you "numb" consciousness (which is impossible anyway)—and thereby numb the illusory world—there wouldn't be anyone left to actually "experience" that numbness....
Your existence as a limited collection of flesh and bone🙂 called Annie is the very nature of the universe itself.😁

Things look a bit different when you switch perspectives to see that the MIND IS ONE and everything stems from it (this manifest reality, and even the essence itself). When you make that switch, briefly forget about all those other manifest people you're talking to....
The ONE MIND is the "enlightened being" BEYOND the manifest world—the core of existence.
I'm not talking about some distant concept of Mind, I mean the "I AM": everything that exists.

driftingraven122🙂 would say that this "I AM" starts to "glow" during deep meditation, but then again, it also glows in the guy sitting in the meditative pose and in the "head of lettuce," haha.

mistybison said:The absurdity lies in the fact that the pain only ceases when the person experiencing it vanishes into a void—a nothingness where neither the person nor the tooth exists. If we follow the Tibetan Book of the Dead, there is only "annihilation," rather than a realization of illusion that leads to happiness. This is because even happiness (much like suffering) is just another layer of deception. This implies that the experiential realization that everything is an illusion leads automatically to total annihilation, rather than a joyful life free from toothaches. 😁 Ultimately, we are left with only two options: 1) a person in pain, or 2) neither the person nor the tooth.

Isn't this view of spirituality based on the belief that existence is inherently suffering and that self-annihilation is preferable to working through that suffering? Doesn't that essentially harbor a love for death?

Then you become a magician, and suddenly you "are or aren't"? 😁

What kind of "plot" are we even talking about when you realize it's IMPOSSIBLE to exist outside of physical life? There’s nobody in the void to actually experience anything... so the ONLY existence that exists is the very one those Tibetan Book of the Dead types are trying to ESCAPE.

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. 🙂

EVERY DEATH means a birth. One thing dies, another is born. Dying implies being born and vice versa...
You've been trying to kill yourself through 5156654654 reincarnations—you're NEVER going to succeed. 😈😉😁

A "state" where there is no one left to experience that state CANNOT be called a state... basically, death in the absolute sense can't exist (regardless of what the Americans might want it to)—there's only some other "kind" of existence, like an astral plane or whatever comes next.

Enlightened Teddy Bear 😁

There aren't any voids regarding existence, non-existence, or nothingness—I guess. It’s just that, momentarily, the diversity gets lost along with the entity observing the "infinite contents." And that's really the only ultimate way to grasp those "infinite contents"—it isn't an either-or situation, maybe.

Edward Flores4 said:I have to start by saying that, in my view, Carl Gustav Jung’s contribution to how we understand different cultures—specifically through his work on archetypal collective and personal unconsciousness—is easily one of the most massive achievements in the entire field of psychology and comparative mythology. It’s foundational stuff. And while he’s the heavyweight here, you really can't talk about this without bringing Joseph Campbell into the conversation. Campbell took everything Jung started and pushed comparative mythology into a whole new realm, even stepping in to refine or correct some of Jung’s ideas in ways that were honestly pretty vital for the field to move forward.

Now that we’ve finally cleared the air on that, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that when it comes to the supposed divide between the Easterner and the Westerner mindsets—I absolutely cannot get behind what Carl Gustav Jung was saying.

It’s funny how history repeats itself—even in the minds of geniuses. Take Carl Gustav Jung, for instance. Much like a lot of people do today, he ran headfirst into Hindu philosophy and that whole Eastern style of archetypal mythology, and he fell into a bit of a naive trap. He essentially assumed that Easterners were inherently more advanced than Westerners—that, as a collective, they were sitting at a higher "developmental level" psychologically speaking. He spent a good deal of time experimenting with their meditative techniques, too, but he ended up walking away with this somewhat skewed conclusion: that these practices were actually dangerous for Westerners. In his view, they just led to pure frustration because we seemingly lacked that specific "developmental level" that Easterners supposedly possessed. It was a classic case of looking through a lens that didn't quite account for the full picture.

In those circumstances, his perspective was only right to the extent that it would have been incredibly arrogant of him to assume his own struggle to master those techniques meant the methods themselves were flawed. He wasn't trying to undermine their credibility—mostly because the underlying cosmology actually makes a lot of sense—but rather, Carl Gustav Jung suggested that Americans just aren't quite "ready" for them yet. It’s like trying to run a marathon before you've even learned to walk; if we ignore that gap in readiness, we’re just setting ourselves up for failure. If you jump into it too soon, all you end up with is a massive amount of frustration from the sheer inability to control your mind the way those practices claim you should.

I think what Carl Gustav Jung missed back then was this fundamental point—these methods aren't actually "techniques" in the way we usually think of them. They aren't just tools you pick up and use to get a specific result. Instead, they’re more like a continuous dialogue. It reminds me of that line from William Blake: "The fool who persists in his folly will become wise." That’s really where the magic happens. These practices exist to force a confrontation with the reality that you simply cannot control your own mind. Once you hit that wall and realize how futile that struggle is, you start to see things differently. You begin to understand that "fate" isn't some external force crashing into your life from out of nowhere—it’s actually something we build for ourselves, brick by brick, through our own actions and patterns.

In other words, coming from that typical academic background we see in the West, Carl Gustav Jung wasn't exactly expecting to run into a completely different philosophy of "learning" once he encountered the traditions of the East. Where those Eastern perspectives really had the upper hand—and this is a subtle but massive distinction—was in their understanding that you can memorize every single doctrine and dogma in the book, yet still walk away with your old, biased way of seeing the world completely intact. It’s a bit like memorizing a cookbook without ever actually tasting the food; you have all the data, but zero actual nourishment. Because of that, he missed the chance to really question whether the techniques being offered were even valid, mostly because he was operating under the assumption that, just like back home in the States, education is always supposed to provide concrete, tangible answers. But the teachings from the East operate on a different wavelength entirely—they’re based, as William Blake would put it, "on the straight guidance of a fool."

If someone truly believes the world is flat, just send them out for a walk toward the edge—and make sure they stay in a perfectly straight line. Once they eventually loop right back to where they started, they’ll have to admit, at the very least, that the earth has a cylindrical shape. 🙂

Look, Carl Gustav Jung reached some incredible conclusions; he kicked open so many doors and handed us a toolkit that is still indispensable today. But even he tripped up occasionally—and honestly, we can't hold that against him. If he had claimed to be infallible, well, that would have just been pure arrogance on his part.

Quincy:

If this uncreated, unborn, infinite, and free void is indeed the only true reality, there's probably a reason why its surface gave rise to this illusion of "me" and "the world." Whether it’s a cosmic game or just the inherent nature of that reality—creating diverse forms out of mist and foam only to dissolve them with a single breath—why wouldn't that very form be the greatest treasure of all? Why devalue it, or feel this urge to destroy it and melt it back into the nothingness? Why isn't existence celebrated simply because it manifests in some form? Instead, we tend to view it as mere "suffering" or a "punishment," acting as if the ultimate goal for every conscious being is to unravel back into non-existence.

Now, I can only speak for myself here. For me, life is something to celebrate. I try to soak up as much of it as possible, fully aware that it's fleeting and, from my perspective, ultimately quite nonsensical. Life is basically a "function" or a "characteristic" of the universe—a way for the cosmos to create the variety and complexity it clearly craves. In that sense, life is a disruption of equilibrium; while it lasts, it drives the dynamics of conflict, violence, fragmentation, and isolation. Life IS a problem, with a capital "P."

But because I understand what that "function" actually is, I manage to embrace whatever comes my way with equal enthusiasm... whether it's pain or pleasure. That enthusiasm comes from the simple fact that, sooner or later, I'll return to a state of "equality," and my specific little bubble of consciousness—with all its built-up frustrations, memories, hopes, and philosophies—will finally be released from that pressure.

In a way... this IS a dream that will one day end, and all of this is just a temporary illusion—but while the dream is happening, it is my one and only reality.

Anyway... trying to read ancient texts without a deep understanding of the specific culture and cosmology of the era they were written in usually leads to some pretty massive misinterpretations.

Besides, you shouldn't take even verified, world-class authorities like Carl Gustav Jung for granted. Everyone misses the mark somewhere. Whenever I read a book and can't find at least one point where I disagree with the author, I KNOW I haven't actually grasped what they were really trying to say.

It's the same with me—if you can't find at least one thing to disagree with me on, it means you didn't really understand me. Because I definitely get things wrong sometimes, and I'd actually prefer if people pointed those flaws out. 🙂

YOU SURE ABOUT THAT? 😉

mistybison said:Regarding the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Jung isn't actually discussing a divide between Eastern and Western minds, but rather different methods of exploring the psyche. The mind is fundamentally the same for everyone—it is layered. People in the East simply don't place as much emphasis on the things Americans focus on, such as the subconscious or the collective unconscious, because they view all of that as Maya, just as much as our material existence and individual ego. Jung is merely pointing out that, according to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the process works in reverse at the moment of death: the mind encounters "pure consciousness" or "non-consciousness." If one fails to let go at that moment, they begin to sink back into Maya—first confronting the deepest layers of the human psyche before slowly ascending toward rebirth, physical existence, and individual consciousness. The Tibetan Book of the Dead essentially provides a highly detailed map of the human psyche, moving from the deepest depths to the surface. 🙂

However, it is important to remember that this book explains what happens spontaneously after death. I believe Jung is simply emphasizing that attempting to consciously trigger this reverse process can be extremely dangerous. In an attempt to dive into the deeper layers of the mind hoping to reach the "source," a person might become trapped in mental states they cannot handle, potentially leading to psychosis or schizophrenia. Eastern traditions don't dig through the contents of the mind in that manner; instead, they discard the mind as Maya and focus immediately on the highest state—pure spirit, pure consciousness, emptiness, or non-existence. This is precisely what the Tibetan Book of the Dead advises throughout: turning attention toward non-existence, practicing meditation, or praying to a supreme Deity—regardless of whatever sensations, sights, or sounds are being experienced in that moment.

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

There is ANOTHER option!!!😁
WHAT if they weren't talking about losing consciousness in the final sense, but moving into some other dimension ABOVE the astral plane? Like, above this entire "framework"—life on the physical level, then astral, then back to physical!!😉

placidharbor7 said:Well, I'd argue that absurdity is just like a "rotten tooth"—you've got to pull it out! Once that's gone, you aren't left with some vague "love for death," but rather Death itself: pure, raw, and unadulterated. An enlightened being—someone who has truly transcended the ego—would essentially exist within the Bardo described in Tibetan texts. In that heavy, swirling mist, they don't cry out for some sort of "liberation"; instead, they ache for finality. The absolute end of both body and mind, leaving nothing behind, not even a memory—that is the only true "nirvana."
There’s actually a hidden riddle in the Nazarene's teaching that "the kingdom of heaven belongs to the poor in spirit." Honestly, isn't it true that religions preaching "ecstasy," "liberation," or "eternity" are just fundamentally childish?

BUT AN END ISN'T EVEN POSSIBLE 🙄😉

Isn't the whole point of an "enlightened being" to scream FOREVER!?!?

The end of the physical and mental stuff—that void where thoughts and memories vanish—is just the "potential" for the enlightened being itself... the universe can't just delete its own existence...

mistybison said:Regarding the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Jung isn't actually discussing a divide between Eastern and Western minds, but rather different methods of exploring the psyche. The mind is fundamentally the same for everyone—it is layered. People in the East simply don't place as much emphasis on the things Americans focus on, such as the subconscious or the collective unconscious, because they view all of that as Maya, just as much as our material existence and individual ego. Jung is merely pointing out that, according to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the process works in reverse at the moment of death: the mind encounters "pure consciousness" or "non-consciousness." If one fails to let go at that moment, they begin to sink back into Maya—first confronting the deepest layers of the human psyche before slowly ascending toward rebirth, physical existence, and individual consciousness. The Tibetan Book of the Dead essentially provides a highly detailed map of the human psyche, moving from the deepest depths to the surface. 🙂

However, it is important to remember that this book explains what happens spontaneously after death. I believe Jung is simply emphasizing that attempting to consciously trigger this reverse process can be extremely dangerous. In an attempt to dive into the deeper layers of the mind hoping to reach the "source," a person might become trapped in mental states they cannot handle, potentially leading to psychosis or schizophrenia. Eastern traditions don't dig through the contents of the mind in that manner; instead, they discard the mind as Maya and focus immediately on the highest state—pure spirit, pure consciousness, emptiness, or non-existence. This is precisely what the Tibetan Book of the Dead advises throughout: turning attention toward non-existence, practicing meditation, or praying to a supreme Deity—regardless of whatever sensations, sights, or sounds are being experienced in that moment.

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

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.🙂