The bardo—literally an “in‐between state”—is seen as a vivid corridor between death and rebirth, not a mere pause. Within Tibetan Buddhism it’s mapped out in six stages: the moment of dying, the clear‐light reality of mind, karmic visions, dream‐like hallucinations, descent into conditioned patterns, and finally the emergence into a new life. Each stage can either open a gate to liberation or replay old habits like a scratched record.

Preparation starts long before the final breath. Daily recitations of passages from the Bardo Thödol, coupled with phowa (consciousness‐transference) exercises, train the mind to recognize the clear‐light awareness at death’s threshold. Monthly chöd ceremonies—where participants symbolically offer their own bodies to spirits—chip away at ego‐clinging and build a fearless generosity that steadies the heart in the bardo’s more turbulent corridors.

A recent twist: teachers in exile have been hosting virtual phowa workshops, connecting New York City urbanites and Himalayan monastics via Zoom. Those jagged tech‐glitches aside, the essence remains—rigorous visualization of deities like Chenrezig during dream yoga helps spot inner projections, transforming potentially terrifying apparitions into familiar friends.

Ritual offerings—funeral feasts for hungry ghosts or incense‐lit memorials—reflect the six bardos in miniature. Guided meditations on impermanence throughout daily life keep the mind nimble, so that when death does knock, there’s room for clear clarity rather than panic.

Watching a friend practice phowa last winter—leaning forward as if sending a small boat across a river—brings home how intimate this preparation really is. Rather than a distant doctrine about dying, it feels more like sharpening one’s compass for living, so that when the time comes, the mind flows seamlessly from one shore of existence to the next.