Gliding through the bardo’s shifting landscapes, two very different processions of deities unfold—one like a moonlit pond, the other like a wildfire on the horizon.

Peaceful deities arrive first, radiating soft halos of white, green or pink light. Imagine Avalokiteshvara’s compassionate gaze, Tara’s graceful stance or Manjushri’s serene smile—each figure seems carved from lotus petals and dawn mist. Their aura evokes calm acceptance, as if inviting a weary traveler into a warm embrace. In today’s world, where meditation apps compete for attention with social feeds, these gentle visions remind that true tranquility isn’t a download—it’s an inner alchemy of openness and trust.

When these luminous forms dissolve, wrathful deities thunder onto the stage. Clad in flickering flames, brandishing skull cups and flaming swords, they appear fierce enough to make the heart race. Their terrifying masks are not punishment but the same enlightened energy, unmasked: raw passion for transformation. Like a viral moment on social media that jolts awareness, these visions strip away every last veneer of self-deception. Their roars and tumbling skulls mirror buried fears, aggression and attachments, daring the mind to face what’s been locked away.

The key difference lies in approach: peaceful deities beckon with loving-kindness, offering a gentle path toward recognizing one’s buddha-nature. Wrathful deities bulldoze through illusions, burning stale habits to ash so rebirth can sprout fresh and unencumbered. Both sets emerge not as external judges but as reflections of the psyche’s own potential—one side dressed in silken robes, the other draped in molten fire. Passing through these visions, the dying consciousness learns that calm and chaos are two sides of the same coin, each essential for genuine liberation.