Liberation as the goal. But for what?

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?

Honestly, I’m sitting here in a bit of a state of shock, but I have to admit—it looks like we finally landed on the same page regarding something.

Any teachings or religions that push the idea of "ecstasy," "liberation," or "eternity" are just plain childish.

Exactly.

When you strip everything away, death is the only actual liberation. Compared to the raw vitality found in dying, the energy involved in being born feels almost trivial. Think of it this way—dying is like that very last stroke of a brush on a canvas. It’s the completion, the wholeness, the final realization of the work.

steeleagle13 said: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.

From where I'm sitting, it looks like you've hung a bunch of expectations on the universe, almost like you have this deep-seated need to believe that "something, somewhere" just keeps going once you pass away. And, in a way, you're right—the world is definitely going to keep spinning without us. Honestly, with over 8 billion people on this planet, hardly anyone is even going to notice you're gone.

I also can't help but notice all the winking emojis and how you're using ALL CAPS for the core parts of your beliefs. If you don't mind me saying, that feels a bit like self-suggestion—it's like you're trying to convince yourself because there's a flicker of doubt underneath. See, once a tiny seed of doubt enters a belief, the certainty is already gone. You already know there isn't an afterlife; you just haven't quite come to terms with it yet.

Maybe I'm totally off base here... and if I am, just toss everything I just said into the trash.

A "state" where there is no one left to experience that state CANNOT be called a state... in other words, death in the full sense of the word cannot exist (no matter how much Tibetans might want it to). There is only some other "kind" of existence, like the astral plane or whatever comes next.

Look, it's pretty simple: just as someone who doesn't exist can't experience death, someone who doesn't exist can't experience an "afterward," either. There's no "astral plane" or "whatever follows" for them. When you aren't there, there is NOTHING following!

Once you're gone, that's it—there won't be any more "you" to experience anything ever again.😉

Edward Flores4 said:Honestly, I’m sitting here in a bit of a state of shock, but I have to admit—it looks like we finally landed on the same page regarding something.

Any teachings or religions that push the idea of "ecstasy," "liberation," or "eternity" are just plain childish.

Exactly.

When you strip everything away, death is the only actual liberation. Compared to the raw vitality found in dying, the energy involved in being born feels almost trivial. Think of it this way—dying is like that very last stroke of a brush on a canvas. It’s the completion, the wholeness, the final realization of the work.

Don't get ahead of yourself, truth seeker. How could placidharbor7 ever truly agree with someone who is absolutely certain they hold the monopoly on truth?
placidharbor7 is just hanging out here to pass the time, not because he actually has all the answers. Only true seekers really get it—those self-proclaimed teachers are nothing more than charlatans.

placidharbor7 said:There really isn't any right or wrong way to look at it, because the "exit" is always just the end of the road.

If you imagine someone crying out inside a gloomy astral fog, you could look at it this way:

- That cry suggests they want something else, rather than accepting what actually is.
- The gloominess implies they are assigning qualities to their surroundings, essentially labeling what is already there.
- Taken together, it all points to one thing: RESISTANCE to reality.

Pure consciousness doesn't resist, doesn't label, doesn't feel pain, and certainly doesn't cry out; it simply IS, regardless of how thick or dark the fog happens to be.

coastalskipper92 said:

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?

From my perspective, absurdity isn't really a problem for anyone except the mind. The mind is constantly hunting for meaning because it’s goal-oriented; it’s always searching for reasons, seeking out pleasure, or trying to dodge pain. Even when someone finds "meaning" through spirituality, it's still the same pattern. Then you have the ego, which carries its own little agenda, trying to make its tiny, imagined existence feel significant. So, it’s perfectly natural for a person to feel unsettled or saddened by how senseless things can be.

Personally, I find that realizing how absurd life is can actually be quite liberating. It frees you from the constant pressure of the mind and the ego, and even from the idea of some higher power or the universe expecting something specific from us.

Edward Flores4 said:From where I'm sitting, it looks like you've hung a bunch of expectations on the universe, almost like you have this deep-seated need to believe that "something, somewhere" just keeps going once you pass away. And, in a way, you're right—the world is definitely going to keep spinning without us. Honestly, with over 8 billion people on this planet, hardly anyone is even going to notice you're gone.

I also can't help but notice all the winking emojis and how you're using ALL CAPS for the core parts of your beliefs. If you don't mind me saying, that feels a bit like self-suggestion—it's like you're trying to convince yourself because there's a flicker of doubt underneath. See, once a tiny seed of doubt enters a belief, the certainty is already gone. You already know there isn't an afterlife; you just haven't quite come to terms with it yet.

Maybe I'm totally off base here... and if I am, just toss everything I just said into the trash.

A "state" where there is no one left to experience that state CANNOT be called a state... in other words, death in the full sense of the word cannot exist (no matter how much Tibetans might want it to). There is only some other "kind" of existence, like the astral plane or whatever comes next.

Look, it's pretty simple: just as someone who doesn't exist can't experience death, someone who doesn't exist can't experience an "afterward," either. There's no "astral plane" or "whatever follows" for them. When you aren't there, there is NOTHING following!

Once you're gone, that's it—there won't be any more "you" to experience anything ever again.😉

SO, am I the one doubting, or are YOU?😉 😁

Just like someone who isn't there practically doesn't exist—for someone who isn't there, there is practically no "afterward," and for God's sake, no "astral plane" or "whatever comes next." For those who aren't there, NOTHING follows!

Once someone is gone—there will never be anything again for them.

WHO DOES ANYTHING FOLLOW IF NOBODY IS THERE? 😲 🙄 😂

In other words, DEATH IS IMPOSSIBLE, and your illusory physical shell is ETERNAL!!!

Death in the true sense of the word (assuming there's a "stage" involved, or if there's no astral body outside of the physical—death of the physical being the "end," or the astral body dying, it doesn't matter) can't be anything other than a DEEP DREAMLESS SLEEP... eventually, you'll wake up again, just like you woke up once at birth, and just like you wake up EVERY DAY when you get out of bed in the morning...

Susan Kim18 said:If you imagine someone crying out inside a gloomy astral fog, you could look at it this way:

- That cry suggests they want something else, rather than accepting what actually is.
- The gloominess implies they are assigning qualities to their surroundings, essentially labeling what is already there.
- Taken together, it all points to one thing: RESISTANCE to reality.

Pure consciousness doesn't resist, doesn't label, doesn't feel pain, and certainly doesn't cry out; it simply IS, regardless of how thick or dark the fog happens to be.

4 -then again, maybe I, Jeremy, don't have a clue what I'm talking about!

steeleagle13 said: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...

placidharbor7, you're totally overlooking the fact that everything is already enlightened. Because of that, no kind of differentiation is actually possible—are you really trying to be that serious?

placidharbor7 As specified by:
Honestly, maybe I’m just talking out of turn here—it’s entirely possible that I don't actually know what I'm talking about.

🙂 Maybe...
Well, at least now I finally understand why you're saying that...

placidharbor7 said:Don't get ahead of yourself, truth seeker. How could placidharbor7 ever truly agree with someone who is absolutely certain they hold the monopoly on truth?
placidharbor7 is just hanging out here to pass the time, not because he actually has all the answers. Only true seekers really get it—those self-proclaimed teachers are nothing more than charlatans.

Well, you might as well enjoy yourself while you can—before life decides to take you out and finally hands you that chance to reach "infinity."

👍

placidharbor7 said:placidharbor7, you're totally overlooking the fact that everything is already enlightened. Because of that, no kind of differentiation is actually possible—are you really trying to be that serious?

You started this whole thing with your premises about an enlightened being reaching infinity... so why don't you go ahead and finish them with mine? 😉😁

placidharbor7 said:Don't get ahead of yourself, truth seeker. How could placidharbor7 ever truly agree with someone who is absolutely certain they hold the monopoly on truth?
placidharbor7 is just hanging out here to pass the time, not because he actually has all the answers. Only true seekers really get it—those self-proclaimed teachers are nothing more than charlatans.

Oh... look at that fake modesty.🤣

Just because you're out here bluffing... doesn't mean I can't agree with you. It doesn't matter if you're the one bluffing, or me, or some third party, or even if all four of us in three different groups took turns doing it.

steeleagle13 said:SO, am I the one doubting, or are YOU?😉 😁

Just like someone who isn't there practically doesn't exist—for someone who isn't there, there is practically no "afterward," and for God's sake, no "astral plane" or "whatever comes next." For those who aren't there, NOTHING follows!

Once someone is gone—there will never be anything again for them.

WHO DOES ANYTHING FOLLOW IF NOBODY IS THERE? 😲 🙄 😂

In other words, DEATH IS IMPOSSIBLE, and your illusory physical shell is ETERNAL!!!

Death in the true sense of the word (assuming there's a "stage" involved, or if there's no astral body outside of the physical—death of the physical being the "end," or the astral body dying, it doesn't matter) can't be anything other than a DEEP DREAMLESS SLEEP... eventually, you'll wake up again, just like you woke up once at birth, and just like you wake up EVERY DAY when you get out of bed in the morning...

Look, I’m not saying you don't know what you're talking about—it’s more that I have absolutely no clue what you're even getting at. It feels like we might be speaking two completely different languages here. ☕

steeleagle13 said: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.

You've experienced that void yourself, haven't you?
Do you have memories of it? (And I'm not just asking rhetorically)

driftingraven122 said: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.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead describes this exact process as "liberation."

Suppose such an "liberation" is experienced by an "entity"—regardless of whether that entity exists in a material, astral, or any other form. Wouldn't this liberation simply be yet another experience in a long series of experiences for that entity? If both diversity and the perceiver itself are lost, only to return to a previous state, then "liberation" immediately becomes nothing more than a memory. Furthermore, if the entity undergoes a sort of fragmentation during this state of "liberation"—which is a clumsy way to put it, but I hope it makes sense—then since there is no longer a self, there is no subject capable of actually experiencing that liberation. Ultimately, "liberation" is either a mere recollection of the true nature of things or total annihilation. The very idea of "being liberated," or "residing in a state of liberation," is quite absurd.

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.🙂

I have no idea how the Tibetan Book of the Dead came to be, though I imagine it was developed through various experiments conducted by ancient Lam Anagarika Govindas.

What exactly happens when someone survives death—do they transition to the next level, or do they gradually fade back into the Maya?

That is the fundamental question. 🙂 If our current existence is merely an illusion, then a true reality must exist beyond it. This is where most people diverge in their convictions: some believe it is God, others posit it is "nothingness," while some argue that what we experience right now is the only absolute truth. This fundamental premise serves as the bedrock upon which all other beliefs, spiritual teachings, and religions are eventually built.

Even if there were a direct hotline between the living and the dead, I struggle to see what could actually survive death while still being identifiable as an individual, a distinct identity, or any kind of autonomous entity.

If we look at the Tibetan Book of the Dead and similar teachings, there is the concept of an "astral body" that exists for a time after death as a blueprint of the physical self. This mental body holds one's memories, karma, and personality traits. It eventually begins to dissolve—similar to how some American traditions observe a forty-day period following passing—until the essence of the being moves toward its next incarnation, shaped by previous karma. States like heaven, hell, or judgment experienced during this transition are simply reflections of one's own psychological state. According to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, those who dedicated themselves to spirituality during their lifetime are spared the more harrowing experiences in the Bardo realm; even without achieving full liberation, their transition between lives remains smooth, peaceful, and joyful.

ps: even though I "challenged" some of your points, I only did so to highlight certain questionable details within that concept. Looking at our discussion, it seems you are already aware of most of those issues. Please don't view this as an attempt to argue, offend, or be verbally aggressive. 🙂

Not at all! We are simply discussing ideas. 🙂

steeleagle13 said:SO, am I the one doubting, or are YOU?😉 😁

Just like someone who isn't there practically doesn't exist—for someone who isn't there, there is practically no "afterward," and for God's sake, no "astral plane" or "whatever comes next." For those who aren't there, NOTHING follows!

Once someone is gone—there will never be anything again for them.

WHO DOES ANYTHING FOLLOW IF NOBODY IS THERE? 😲 🙄 😂

In other words, DEATH IS IMPOSSIBLE, and your illusory physical shell is ETERNAL!!!

Death in the true sense of the word (assuming there's a "stage" involved, or if there's no astral body outside of the physical—death of the physical being the "end," or the astral body dying, it doesn't matter) can't be anything other than a DEEP DREAMLESS SLEEP... eventually, you'll wake up again, just like you woke up once at birth, and just like you wake up EVERY DAY when you get out of bed in the morning...

That is merely one possible belief; it is quite logical and comforting, which makes it appealing to the mind, but there is no way to know for sure, let alone prove to someone else that it is the absolute truth. 😉

mistybison said:The Tibetan Book of the Dead describes this exact process as "liberation."

Suppose such an "liberation" is experienced by an "entity"—regardless of whether that entity exists in a material, astral, or any other form. Wouldn't this liberation simply be yet another experience in a long series of experiences for that entity? If both diversity and the perceiver itself are lost, only to return to a previous state, then "liberation" immediately becomes nothing more than a memory. Furthermore, if the entity undergoes a sort of fragmentation during this state of "liberation"—which is a clumsy way to put it, but I hope it makes sense—then since there is no longer a self, there is no subject capable of actually experiencing that liberation. Ultimately, "liberation" is either a mere recollection of the true nature of things or total annihilation. The very idea of "being liberated," or "residing in a state of liberation," is quite absurd.

I have no idea how the Tibetan Book of the Dead came to be, though I imagine it was developed through various experiments conducted by ancient Lam Anagarika Govindas.

What exactly happens when someone survives death—do they transition to the next level, or do they gradually fade back into the Maya?

That is the fundamental question. 🙂 If our current existence is merely an illusion, then a true reality must exist beyond it. This is where most people diverge in their convictions: some believe it is God, others posit it is "nothingness," while some argue that what we experience right now is the only absolute truth. This fundamental premise serves as the bedrock upon which all other beliefs, spiritual teachings, and religions are eventually built.

Even if there were a direct hotline between the living and the dead, I struggle to see what could actually survive death while still being identifiable as an individual, a distinct identity, or any kind of autonomous entity.

If we look at the Tibetan Book of the Dead and similar teachings, there is the concept of an "astral body" that exists for a time after death as a blueprint of the physical self. This mental body holds one's memories, karma, and personality traits. It eventually begins to dissolve—similar to how some American traditions observe a forty-day period following passing—until the essence of the being moves toward its next incarnation, shaped by previous karma. States like heaven, hell, or judgment experienced during this transition are simply reflections of one's own psychological state. According to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, those who dedicated themselves to spirituality during their lifetime are spared the more harrowing experiences in the Bardo realm; even without achieving full liberation, their transition between lives remains smooth, peaceful, and joyful.

ps: even though I "challenged" some of your points, I only did so to highlight certain questionable details within that concept. Looking at our discussion, it seems you are already aware of most of those issues. Please don't view this as an attempt to argue, offend, or be verbally aggressive. 🙂

Not at all! We are simply discussing ideas. 🙂

That is merely one possible belief; it is quite logical and comforting, which makes it appealing to the mind, but there is no way to know for sure, let alone prove to someone else that it is the absolute truth. 😉

So, given that, how likely is it that what the book describes actually correlates with what people experience "after death"?

That’s really the heart of the matter. 🙂 If everything we perceive is essentially an illusion, then there has to be some sort of "true reality" out there.

Not necessarily. You could argue that true reality is right here, surrounding us at all times—it’s just that our sensory perception doesn't quite capture the full picture. Beyond that veil, there’s this field of pure potentiality where life spontaneously emerges whenever the conditions are right. 🙂

If we look at the Tibetan Book of the Dead, much like many other spiritual teachings, there's this idea that after you pass, an "astral body" exists for a while—basically a blueprint or a reflection of your physical body.

I'm familiar with the "official" version of these stories, but I was honestly hoping to get your take on it—you know, regarding how relevant or even credible these beliefs actually are.

Because, look, if we're going to have a serious discussion about something, it needs to have at least a little bit of weight behind it.

Not at all! We're just tossing ideas around here. 🙂

I assumed we wouldn't run into any friction, but hey, you can never be too sure. Regardless, I'm glad we can just explore these concepts freely. 🙂

mistybison said:The Tibetan Book of the Dead describes this exact process as "liberation."

Suppose such an "liberation" is experienced by an "entity"—regardless of whether that entity exists in a material, astral, or any other form. Wouldn't this liberation simply be yet another experience in a long series of experiences for that entity? If both diversity and the perceiver itself are lost, only to return to a previous state, then "liberation" immediately becomes nothing more than a memory. Furthermore, if the entity undergoes a sort of fragmentation during this state of "liberation"—which is a clumsy way to put it, but I hope it makes sense—then since there is no longer a self, there is no subject capable of actually experiencing that liberation. Ultimately, "liberation" is either a mere recollection of the true nature of things or total annihilation. The very idea of "being liberated," or "residing in a state of liberation," is quite absurd.

I have no idea how the Tibetan Book of the Dead came to be, though I imagine it was developed through various experiments conducted by ancient Lam Anagarika Govindas.

What exactly happens when someone survives death—do they transition to the next level, or do they gradually fade back into the Maya?

That is the fundamental question. 🙂 If our current existence is merely an illusion, then a true reality must exist beyond it. This is where most people diverge in their convictions: some believe it is God, others posit it is "nothingness," while some argue that what we experience right now is the only absolute truth. This fundamental premise serves as the bedrock upon which all other beliefs, spiritual teachings, and religions are eventually built.

Even if there were a direct hotline between the living and the dead, I struggle to see what could actually survive death while still being identifiable as an individual, a distinct identity, or any kind of autonomous entity.

If we look at the Tibetan Book of the Dead and similar teachings, there is the concept of an "astral body" that exists for a time after death as a blueprint of the physical self. This mental body holds one's memories, karma, and personality traits. It eventually begins to dissolve—similar to how some American traditions observe a forty-day period following passing—until the essence of the being moves toward its next incarnation, shaped by previous karma. States like heaven, hell, or judgment experienced during this transition are simply reflections of one's own psychological state. According to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, those who dedicated themselves to spirituality during their lifetime are spared the more harrowing experiences in the Bardo realm; even without achieving full liberation, their transition between lives remains smooth, peaceful, and joyful.

ps: even though I "challenged" some of your points, I only did so to highlight certain questionable details within that concept. Looking at our discussion, it seems you are already aware of most of those issues. Please don't view this as an attempt to argue, offend, or be verbally aggressive. 🙂

Not at all! We are simply discussing ideas. 🙂

That is merely one possible belief; it is quite logical and comforting, which makes it appealing to the mind, but there is no way to know for sure, let alone prove to someone else that it is the absolute truth. 😉

It seems absurd if you're looking at it through the intellect, but that’s probably not even the point. There is no entity—or rather, there is, but it's merely an intellectual construct—so it isn't really an 'entity's experience.' It isn't just a memory; it's more like a 'mirror' in the mind has been turned permanently the right way around, ending the search for individual 'liberation'—which, I suppose, leaves a lasting consequence. Furthermore, once that happens, you understand how those 'infinite contents' arise, and they aren't actually in conflict with the truth—meaning they aren't a problem. Maybe placidharbor7 knows more about this. I'm still pretty green. 😬

Now, we can call it 'liberation' or whatever we feel like; it doesn't really matter. If this non-differentiation happened once, it will happen again. Or, at least, I'd like to think so. 😬

That’s how I experience it too, though perhaps it shouldn't be phrased quite so bluntly 🙏

wiredcanyon6 said:@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

We will never truly grasp what it is like "there" while we remain here, and in a sense, is it even 😉 worth pondering? What we feel within our own spiritual realms is beautiful; and it is beautiful because it is connected to Him.. so nothing bad could possibly be waiting for us there ☕

driftingraven122 said: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 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

mistybison said:The Tibetan Book of the Dead describes this exact process as "liberation."

Suppose such an "liberation" is experienced by an "entity"—regardless of whether that entity exists in a material, astral, or any other form. Wouldn't this liberation simply be yet another experience in a long series of experiences for that entity? If both diversity and the perceiver itself are lost, only to return to a previous state, then "liberation" immediately becomes nothing more than a memory. Furthermore, if the entity undergoes a sort of fragmentation during this state of "liberation"—which is a clumsy way to put it, but I hope it makes sense—then since there is no longer a self, there is no subject capable of actually experiencing that liberation. Ultimately, "liberation" is either a mere recollection of the true nature of things or total annihilation. The very idea of "being liberated," or "residing in a state of liberation," is quite absurd.

I have no idea how the Tibetan Book of the Dead came to be, though I imagine it was developed through various experiments conducted by ancient Lam Anagarika Govindas.

What exactly happens when someone survives death—do they transition to the next level, or do they gradually fade back into the Maya?

That is the fundamental question. 🙂 If our current existence is merely an illusion, then a true reality must exist beyond it. This is where most people diverge in their convictions: some believe it is God, others posit it is "nothingness," while some argue that what we experience right now is the only absolute truth. This fundamental premise serves as the bedrock upon which all other beliefs, spiritual teachings, and religions are eventually built.

Even if there were a direct hotline between the living and the dead, I struggle to see what could actually survive death while still being identifiable as an individual, a distinct identity, or any kind of autonomous entity.

If we look at the Tibetan Book of the Dead and similar teachings, there is the concept of an "astral body" that exists for a time after death as a blueprint of the physical self. This mental body holds one's memories, karma, and personality traits. It eventually begins to dissolve—similar to how some American traditions observe a forty-day period following passing—until the essence of the being moves toward its next incarnation, shaped by previous karma. States like heaven, hell, or judgment experienced during this transition are simply reflections of one's own psychological state. According to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, those who dedicated themselves to spirituality during their lifetime are spared the more harrowing experiences in the Bardo realm; even without achieving full liberation, their transition between lives remains smooth, peaceful, and joyful.

ps: even though I "challenged" some of your points, I only did so to highlight certain questionable details within that concept. Looking at our discussion, it seems you are already aware of most of those issues. Please don't view this as an attempt to argue, offend, or be verbally aggressive. 🙂

Not at all! We are simply discussing ideas. 🙂

That is merely one possible belief; it is quite logical and comforting, which makes it appealing to the mind, but there is no way to know for sure, let alone prove to someone else that it is the absolute truth. 😉

but that isn't comforting AT ALL 😉🙄 it’s actually terrifying 😁

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