I been wondering on this topic now for awhile.....
From what I've read, the human body produces dmt at certain stressful times. The moment of death is supposedly one of these times. So I'm now wondering just how similar a (smokable) dmt experience could be to death.
Its the strangest thing. All of my senses leading in tell me in a terrifying way that I've been there before. And that's followed by a sheer joy at being alive. Calming one's mind during the experience is essential and difficult, imo.
I guess this could be genetic memory as others have postulated. But the theory of reincarnation also comes to mind during those intense times. From what I've read of and about the Tibeten Book of the Dead, there exist more than a few similarities between the dmt experience and the preparations for their final moments here on earth in the shell de jour.
lw
Quote from: "laughingwillow"I been wondering on this topic now for awhile.....
From what I've read, the human body produces dmt at certain stressful times. The moment of death is supposedly one of these times. So I'm now wondering just how similar a (smokable) dmt experience could be to death.
It is a quite interresting theory which I myself fins kind of nice, but Im not sure we really can say anything yet about the function DMT have in the brain. I dont think anyone acctually have checked in which times if they indeed at anytime get to a level high enough to cause visions. At the moment we cant really measure the mono-amines a live subject.
Do anyone have any information about someone checking the DMT levels in any human subject?
A lot of hormones in the body can cause visions in larger than normal doses. DMT could have a function in low doses. Maybe in associating with memory and dreaming.
But it doesnt seem unresonable I think that stress could cause DMT to be produced? Maybe it could help us to look for odd solutions?
The "I've been there before" aspect is interesting and something I can't explain - unless I consider the fact I have been there before.
"And that's followed by a sheer joy at being alive." Kind of like recently when Ryan Adams sang "Life Is Beautiful".
Here's an odd situation:
Man who had Near Death Experience Arrested for being Under Influence of DMT (//http://www.newsmutiny.com/pages/Local/NearDeathExperience.htm)
I love the quote from the D.A. "The defense of Mr. Ramsey that the DMT was made by his own body against his will is inadequate and laughable as such a notion would mean everyone in the world is a criminal, including me..."
Yeah that's a pretty funny quote. We're all walking talking dmt containers guilty of synthesizing the banned substance from whatever glands exude it.
Ya Ha! He is guilty! The D.A. I mean.
An interesting sidenote (which you may have heard before) is that schizophrenics have been found to have elevated levels of dmt in their urine, as opposed to the rest of us, in which case the levels are probably barely detectable.
tstt: That is a bizarre link, bro. And it sure fits the topic at hand, eh?
A bunch of fooking maroons are running this country, brawh.
lw
I was suspicious when I couldnt find any other references for that article. It is fake. Interesting concept never-the-less.
hahahahahha! We be onionized, eh?
lw
Btw, I'm so clueless as to the history of Ryan Adams that I had no idea that the song coming out of circus space was called "Life is Beautiful," until now. But I sure felt that very sentiment at that specific point in time.
My memory of that part of the show is a l-i-t-t-l-e sketchy. But I sure recall those sweet opening notes of Terrapin which followed. And the pure bliss of being cradled by the spirit through the remainder of that song after such an intense experience. That terrapin was most soothing, imo.
lw
Just in the interest of a pseudo-scientific question: Consider the way that the Berserkers used to drink the urine of Amanita ingesting souls..... So, uh, what if I found myself a willing schizophrenic/fed 'em a bunch of beer, and then, uh :oops: :oops: ----- Hey, isss jess a thought :D ------------- senorsal
Urine might be an easier extraction than from phalaris grass - hahahhaha The anti-drug crusaiders would have fun with that: "Desperate Druggies Smoke Homeless People Urine."
-----------
You build a house and if the house comes up
You gotta work on that house
If you want to make it your home
Cause everything inside that's not something you own
Is what you're taking with you
On the day that you go - Ryan Adams
I was glad when Terrapin came around.
:lol: :lol: :wink:
...
That's sort of cool that the DMT-schizo connection has been disproven... Being one that has always revered the 'mind' drugs ; as opposed to something such as uppers or downers, I was always uncomfortably troubled that DMT was in any way associated with mental disorder.....senorsal
Has anyone else here read the Tibetan Book of the Dead?
Its about time to go through it again, I'm guessing.
lw
Just came across this link to a couple of different translations of the TBD...
http://reluctant-messenger.com/tibetan- ... e-dead.htm (http://reluctant-messenger.com/tibetan-book-of-the-dead.htm)
The Bardo Thodol also spelled Bardo Thotrol, translated as The Tibetan Book of the Dead, for centuries it was passed down orally. This ancient text was first put into written form by the legendary Padma Sambhava in the 8th century A.D. Translated, Bardo Thodol means "liberation by hearing on the after death plane". The book acts as a guide for the dead during the state that intervenes death and the next rebirth.
The Bardo Thodol also spelled Bardo Thotrol, translated as The Tibetan Book of the Dead, for centuries it was passed down orally. This ancient text was first put into written form by the legendary Padma Sambhava in the 8th century A.D. Translated, Bardo Thodol means "liberation by hearing on the after death plane". The book acts as a guide for the dead during the state that intervenes death and the next rebirth.
Liberation by hearing, eh?
lw
I read it a while back. Don't remember too much now. What did strike me as mentioned is the belief that liberation could come from hearing the words alone and/or it "guides a person to use the moment of death to recognize the nature of mind and attain liberation." At the time, I was thinking in relation to some of my salvia experiences and the possiblities of what could come from recognizing ones nature while still having a viable body to return to...probably would be good to read it again.
QuoteHas anyone else here read the Tibetan Book of the Dead?
Have a copy of it sitting on the desk right now, was just returned a few days ago by a fellow enthusiast. It's the Evan-Wentz edition, according to Lama Kazi Dawa-Samdup' english rendering.
I could probably use to brush up on it myself. It's been a few years.
Them moment of death is like a second chance for enlightenment, the first being the lifetime that lead up to the point of death, IMHO. Everyone at the moment of death and the days following is given the opportunity, at several points, to gain liberation.
Salvia, for some people can defiantely be a glimpse of this state.
Been a very long time,probably something else I should get back to.
I came upon this passage from the Evan-Wentz translation a little bit ago.
.........
..........forget not these words; and, bearing their meaning at heart, go forwards: in them lieth the vital secret of recognition:
Alas! when the Uncertain Experiencing of Reality is dawning upon me here,
With every thought of fear or terror or awe for all [apparitional appearances] set aside,
May I recognize whatever [visions] appear, as the reflections of mine own consciousness;
May I know them to be of the nature of apparitions in the Bardo: When at this all-important moment [of opportunity] of achieving a great end.
May I not fear the bands of Peaceful and Wrathful [Deities], mine own thought-forms.
Repeat thou these [verses] dearly, and remembering their significance as thou repeatest them, go forwards, [O nobly-born]. Thereby, whatever visions of awe or terror appear, recognition is certain; and forget not this vital secret art lying therein.
................
The similarities between these concepts and that which I've/we've gleaned at certain musical events while under the influence of powerful entheogenic sacraments is interesting, imo.
The amazing part is how well it all fits into a few personal delusions I've harbored for decades. hehe
lw
Am thinking it might be interesting to have an audio recording of the entire book read in the tibetan language. Am sure it's already been done out there somewhere.
(Those darned ethnomusicologists, they have all the fun.)
I first read the Tibetan Book of the Dead in my teens. It became a living thing for me in boot camp.
I developed an inner ear infection in basic training. The infirmary treated the infection with an antibiotic that had already been pulled from the civilian market because it caused the fraying of tendons and ligaments, esp. the major ones.
After several days on the antibiotic I developed pain low in my right leg. I went on sick call and was told there was nothing wrong with my leg, with an attitude that suggested I was trying to duck out of marching.
My leg pain increased for several days. I went back on sick call, was again told nothing was wrong, and this time was threatened with a charge of malingering.
A few days later we did a 20 mile march with full field gear--70 lbs. or so, double-timing the last few miles. The pain was incredible. I woke up the next morning with my leg so swollen I couldn't even get a sock over my foot, let alone a boot. I went on sick call again and was told I had a sprained ankle. They gave me a crutch and told me to walk the two miles to the hospital. I did.
When I arrived at the hospital a compassionate colonel MD, a good guy, took a close look at my leg and exploded. He called up the infirmary on the spot and reamed the medic out, asking, "Are you trying to turn this man into a cripple?" I began to worry.
My Achilles tendon was badly split and frayed. Several ligaments in my foot were torn nearly in half. The cast room plastered me up in a non-weight bearing, bent-leg monster that encased me from the hip to the toes. I was transfered to the Special Training Company, featuring the Sick, Lame, Lazy, and Dumb platoons. I was expected to be in the cast for three months or so.
There I vegetated for a couple of months. One day I started to have shaking chills alternating with sweats. Off to sick call--where I was diagnosed with pneumonia. I was admitted to the Advanced Respiratory Disease ward and started on IV antibiotics. I did not improve. My fever climbed to around 105. I began to convulse. A nurse came to sponge my body down to help lower my temp, and as she leaned over me, she put her hand on my cast and said, "My! Your cast is hotter than you are!"
In short order the cast was torn off. A marching blister on my heel had abscessed; the cellulitis had climbed up my leg, into the damaged tendon, and past that into the calf muscle. My leg was green, yellow and reddish brown up to the knee. A huge pouch of pus hung from my leg. The surgeon said, "We're going to give you a GI anesthetic." That turned out to be two orderlies holding me down while he scraped out the abscess on my heel.
My calf was so damaged by the gangrenous infection that the colonel feared an incision would cause my entire leg to split like a rotten melon, possibly spilling some of the infection directly into my bloodstream. So the giant pus sac on my leg was to be treated with an hour on/hour off application of moist heat to encourage spontaneous rupture and drainage. A nurse put the moist heat on that afternoon, then never came back to remove it: the constant heat helped drive infection into my lymphatic system, and I spent the night quietly convulsing in the dark.
That night I realized they were going to kill me. I had arrived at Ft. Knox in great shape and perfect health, but a series of blunders by incompetent people was going to kill me.
It was winter in the hills of Kentucky, a beautiful place, the birthplace of my mother. By the moon I could see it was snowing. For the first time without the aid of an entheogen, I had an out of body experience.
At first I was terrified: I knew I was dying, and I didn't want to: the young body fights so hard to live Then I remembered the Book of the Dead, and I thought about Huxley tripping on LSD as he died, and I knew I didn't want to die in panic and fear. I centered myself within the experience, just being there, accepting, as I had learned to do in meditation and with massive doses, at peace with my passing and feeling a sort of rapture that I was at last going to discover what-comes-next.
Away from the fire burning up my body, I glided out over those gorgeous hills, trees filigreed in ice and moonlight, each gust of snowy wind moving me first this way, then that, totally surrendering to the great liberation, my heart as free and light as a feather.
I glanced back at the hospital window and saw that twitching body as though it was someone else, filled with poison, burrning, soaked in sweat, and I felt a tremendous pity. A voice as light and clear as wind chimes whispered, "You can help." I telescoped back into the room and hovered over the hospital bed, breathing clean, crisp cold down onto that poor boy like an angel of ice. At some point all consciousness dissolved into dreams of snow...
On morning rounds the colonel found the heat pack still on my leg and ripped it off, furious, shouting... In the night the pus sac had opened and drained more than a pint of foul smelling stuff. It would be six months before I would walk without crutches again, a few years before I walked without a limp. The colonel studied me silently for a moment, then said, "Son, you are mighty hard to kill."
Still feverish, I told him the old Tibetans in the snow had saved me. He shook his head and walked away.
"That night I realizied they were going to kill me."
That wasn`t prescience,or the magic you later experienced.That comes off as a very realistic assessment of what 'they' were doing to you. Sad, I have seen things go that way,as if obeying their own positive marching orders.
Glad that it became the backdrop for a better set of occurences.
check out "the Spirit Molecule by Rick Strassman" :wink:
WoW, thanks space........ good read.
Never read the tibetan book of the dead myself. I wonder if it's anything like the egyptian book of the dead. I see it often these days it seems...... death that is. The whole gambut. Everything from the wholly tragic to the better off to the far too soon. Some people wear the veil of it weeks before they die it seems. I remember I came home one day a couple months ago and I walked into my bedroom knowing instantly my grandfathers cat had passed away on my bed. I just stood there in awe of the empty vessel. It bugged me for weeks, how I knew the cat was dead intuitively. But on the subject of dimitri and death, I figured if I could ever choose the method of my own, I'd want it to be a horrible, agonizing, lucid death such as space narrowly escaped. I want the whole show. To sqeeze every last bit out of it. Fully experience it.
Always liked that book, Tuesdays with Morrie.
The Tibetans for whatever else they are doing, have saved a life. Bardo trekking (can anyone relate to a walk-about?) and back again.
Space, you have given rise to renewed faith in the power of releasing fear.
amazing space, how sweet the sound...
"don't know what to do...I'm so glad!"
Jack Bruce and Cream, "I'm So Glad", Fresh Cream, 1967
Quoteamazing space, how sweet the sound...
:D
I was born into a dirt poor family...withdrawn, solitary, dreamy...so slow to talk I was labelled retarded but then was plucked up by a Fed-sponsored school for gifted children, shocking the shit out of everybody who knew me... The psych who evaluated finalists for the program was the first to learn that I was secretly reading high school textbooks under the blanket with a flashlight at night when I was five; they took my flashlight away; I chopped branches off the tree outside my bedroom window so I could read by the corner streetlight. I learned early that if you acted smart, somebody wanted to kick your ass. I kept quiet.
Unfortunately, the school was Sputnik-panic inspired (you kids know about Sputnik? beep beep beep ...scared the hell outta America), and the program was intended to incubate rocket scientists, nuclear physicists, etc.: they wanted science warriors. I wasn't interested: "But you could be anything you want!" the teachers and counselors would wail. "I am," I'd answer.
l didn't want to specialize in anything. Instead, I wanted to see and experience as much of everything that life had to offer as possible. I couldn't imagine doing one thing all my life and decided to take every risk in the name of extraordinary adventures.
Well, I'm happy to say I had those adventures, extraordinarily good and extraordinarily bad. Ran away with Kerouac and Timothy and Huey and Abby and Buddha to road houses and temples and witches and communes and... Managed to survive getting shot, stabbed, beaten and burned; got torn down, eaten up, spit out, and carried on. I hit the road in my mid teens and by my early 20s I had carried hod, cleaned bricks, dug ditches, picked fruit, built trucks, lumberjacked, farmed da kine, stole a few cars (oops), made candles and baked bread. Then I survived the Army, stayed in Asia and made a living by my wits, writing for magazines, rambling all over that part of the world before going back to school at 30: tore up the summa cum laude track and studied poetry on graduate fellowship with a Nobel Prize winner, but walked away from the po-biz because it was, as it turned out, just another biz (my last innocence lost). I met my perfect lady there (after two failed marriages) and settled down a bit and taught myself computer programming to earn a respectable living because stability makes her happy. Now most (but not all ;) ) of my adventures are in the mind and heart.
Life is good. I've had a helluva run.
Now, as I near spine surgery and keep having to sign papers saying, yes, I know I could die or end up wishing I had, I've been trying to get more of that run on paper, just in case. I have sons and grandsons who have no idea about those years I spent rolling loaded dice on crazy tables, and one of those grandsons has this look in his eye...
you know, when i went to see Graham Seidman, an amazing photographer who spent time with Ginsberg and Corso at the Beat Hotel in Paris, i was pissed at myself for depending on my memory writing down the stories he'd told.
tape it. That's what i would wish your progeny - your voice relating the stories.
Writing is great, wonderful and you're skilled, but the addition of a voice is worth so much.
Video is also cool, but that demands production, associates, accomplices. If you're soloing, a tape recorder is great.
And man, good luck on your spinal surgery. Have 2 friends who just underwent spinal procedures and both of them are just fine! Doing well.
judih
That's a great idea, judih...funny it didn't occur to me: we have dozens of hours of tapes recorded in the last few of my grandmother's 107 years, everything from when the first plane she saw spooked her horse to when a wagonload of farm girls rode into town together to face down the men folk and vote.
This is space, signing on ;)
Quote from: "space"Quoteamazing space, how sweet the sound...
:.
"But you could be anything you want!" the teachers and counselors would wail. "I am," I'd answer.
...
Bravo my brudda, Bravo That little quip is one of the most content laden, profound pronouncements I've had the pleasure to read in a long time..... Good to see the long road to disfuntion junction is intersected by illumination alley-------------- sal
QuoteGood to see the long road to disfuntion junction is intersected by illumination alley-------------- sal
i think we're starting a one of a kind quote thread.
What a trip to collect all the amazing quotes in these spf posts and put together a collage. (putting this one on my To Do shelf)
Quote--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Quote:
Good to see the long road to disfuntion junction is intersected by illumination alley-------------- sal
I went down to the crossroads,
fell down on my knees...
I'm thinking it may be time for you to pull up a thread and spin us a tale or two, uncle spacey........
lw
I've been pondering over the tibetan book of the dead as of late.
A few details I've gleaned would include the fact that the author's appear to view all sentient as equal in the bardo, but make distinctions as to heiarchy during incarnations on the physical plane. For example, a soul wandering the bardo after death is capable of reaching buddha-hood or being born as a snail, depending on one's inclinations to cling or let go. And birth into a body other than human appears to have a negative or lower conotation....
Detachment from earthly desires is stressed, but isn't that really just one more desire?
Rising above the karmic wheel of birth and death seems to be the goal. But what happens then? Personal suffering ceases? Is joy and happiness thrown out the window as well? Love is stressed, but what is love without its opposite?
What about the fact that at least one translation claims that there are better and worse places on earth to become incarnate, depending on the level of "dharma" found in a given society?
In the bardo, the thought which appears to have the greatest weight is the most recent. Apparently, a soul can wonder for weeks, not recognizing or maybe even fearing the bright lights of inner illumination and still end up transcending the karma of birth and death with a last second realization. On the other hand, it was laid out quite clearly that an enlightened soul which recognizes and embraces the intense visions of enlightment can end up reincarnating as a lower life form on earth if their very last thoughts before "sainthood" involve personal longing or attachment.
Is life on earth really so bad as to be avoided if possible?
lw
i like your questionings of things laughingwillow.
(//http://images.picturequest.com/common/detail/48/47/22174748.jpg)
i been reading a bit of the tibetan book as well lately. rereading parts really. its like picking up old comics which havent been read for a while.
all i get left with, as with any books that tell me the so called Great Truth, is only a sense of paradox, and utter meaninglessness.
sometimes its been nice to have someone around who has studied those subject matters more than i have. then i can ask my silly questions, and usually do get some form of answer. yet, if i pander those very answers, i usually find yet new paradoxes in the answers. sometimes the answers help a bit, and sometimes even make sense and gives me a sense of progression in my own process.
sometimes i am told that i am the one creating paradoxes, because i attach myself to those questions/answers. so, i guess i am supposed to just take knowledge in, and say "YES, this is IT", i agree 100%, well, i cant, eventhough sometimes i can agree 100%.
i am left with thinking that most of those belief systems, are just lost in words. as if words were another form of labyrinth in which we so easily get lost in. sometimes we even call this "answers".
i like your question: is life so bad on earth?
-how do we know what life is like as other life forms? wouldnt another life form just do its life thing, as humans also do their life things, pondering things to which they propably could never get a straight answer, speaking gibberish, hanging out, making art, working, feeding, farting and burping and basically being humans?
-the buddha supposedly said "there is nothing to talk about", yet went around teaching stuff?
-i agree with your question of : isnt non attachement a form of attachement? i'd ask, isnt a monk attached to his monkhood identity? in my eyes, a monk hasent given away any so called ego, simply created a monk ego.
i should write a list of paradoxes i found.
such as :
they say that when you get rid of all "karma", you get cut from the wheel of birth, final liberation so they call it. but how do they know?
as far as i can tell, no one''s ever died and come back, therefore all the talks of whats up after life have to be mere fictions.
what if we loose all so called "bad karma", what if we get born in a even more horrible place, or just start it all over, like a retart button?
its like the self help stuff..we're supposed to find our "self" (which in many traditions doesnt even exist as such, making the search for a self a dillusional lie anyhows). of course, once you find your "self" its usually some fluffy happy form of self, all loving and all marschmallows, or at least accepting of life's weirdness.
but, what if i find my "self" and figure out i am moron? but that case is never talked about, which makes me think its more wishfull thinking.
WOUPS; this doesnt have anything to do with the book of the dead. GAH!!!!!!
oh well:shock:
perhaps the TBOTD (tibet book o dead), is only one part of a whole big system, and perhaps answers are to be gotten by reading more books of that type.
um......
on to last thought, do i get reborn into a banana if my last thought before death is of a banana because as i was walking down the street, seing a nice sky, i look up, admire the clouds formation, slip on a banana peel, and think "god damned stupid banana peel" as i rubb my ass cause it hurts from the fall, and a truck runs over me?
anyhows. good ponderings...
fun fun!!!!!
:D
Yeah, fuzz!
Thanks for adding fuel to the fire.
Btw, I like the effect of seeing the top pic before reading the analogy at the end of your post, bro. Had me scratching me head for a few paragraphs, and I like that.
lw
Quoteas far as i can tell, no one''s ever died and come back, therefore all the talks of whats up after life have to be mere fictions.
In the Tibetan tradition of the teachings of the buddhas, nothing could be further from the truth, if you beleive their teachings, which I happen to. The same person in the same body never comes back... no, but the same being in another form (body, teaching, visulaisation, etc.) comes back time and time again. In those cases the reason for returning is not because of clinging to worldly things, but because of said being's purpose, which is to ease the suffering of all sentients in this world. They do not simply think "oh, I'd like to return to life now, do some good, die again, come back again..." It's not a choice for these people, it's the only thing that can happen to them.
Words are a mere means of conveyance for the teaching. They (words) are not the most common method of conveying the teaching. They only serve to help guide one along the path to understanding. Direct Transmission is the wave of the future for tantric teachings in the west, IMHO.
If you think life on earth isn't that bad, look around for awhile... You might be surprised. :) Granted life on earth isn't complete shit for a lot of us, but for the majority of people it's barely endurable. Buddha did not say that all life is "suffering" he said, instead that it is "difficult to bear"
Poor translation causes people to think that he stated the former, making the first noble truth seem somewhat nihlistic, rather than simply honest.
Buddha wasn't just conversing, he was teaching. As far as the experience of understanding goes, there IS nothing to talk about. Talking about it would only muck it up with ideas, which are insubstantial. The only thing of true substance is the teaching itself and the experience thereof, the two cannot be seperated... They are the same thing.
Detachment should not be considered a form of attachment unless one is attached to the concept of detachment, which is obviously not detachment in and of itself.
Monks are monks, human beings... they still have attachment, or else they would be considered teachers rather than students, which is essentially what a monk is. But that is not to say that all teachers are without attachment or that all monks are still completely attached.
Quotebut, what if i find my "self" and figure out i am moron?
Hehe, I did that once... Never really got over it. :lol:
You're already a banana, fuzz. No one informed you of this?
The bardo thodol isn't so much of a book of teachings as it a book of funeral rites, and should be read as such, I beleive. A lot of the confusion here is because of a lack of understanding of the tibetan concept of death, which is so different from our own, in the west, that it makes it very difficult for us to wrap our minds around. I can barely fathom it myself and I've been studying it (sometimes off and on) for over a decade now. Progress is slow, sometimes, for me. :D
~Banana Man.
TBotD...one will not find tha answerz inna book.
It is easy to be a holy man at tha top ofa mountain.
Fin
Thanks for the clear response, varj. And I agree for the most part.
But let's talk about pain and suffering a little more......
All humans suffer, imo. ANd its been that way since the beginning of time. However, comparing one person's situation to another's is mostly futile, imo. For it is only self-perception that really matters, imo. An example would be the natives who walked this land before it became the U$ of A. They were seen as godless heathen who would be infinitely better off by assimilating into the popular culture. It has been written that the forced relocation of many of the formerly great tribes of the east in the late 1860's was named the Trail of Tears due to the white populations reaction to seeing the proud people stumbling along the road in forced marches. In other words, it wasn't the "Indians" who were crying.
We all suffer and we all feel joy. The measure of each being largely determined by an inner disposition and less by external circumstances, imo.
I also view the TBotD less as funerary rites and more of a guide through the bardo.
lw
I never would have guessed that it was the settlers crying...
And you're right, all people suffer. It doesn't matter how much money, love or prestige a person may have they will still suffer. We all do.
I think the inner disposition that effects how much suffering/joy a person feels is largely dependent upon what that person has done with their life, or previous lives... We make our own fate, if I'm unhappy it's my own fault because of how I choose to view the world and my experience of it.
Jesus may save, buddha may heal, but it's up to each of us to heal and save ourselves. If you want to use jesus or buddha as conduits towards spiritual health or salvation, then more power to ya! But enlightened beings and ressurrected prophets aren't going to do the work for us...
QuoteI also view the TBotD less as funerary rites and more of a guide through the bardo.
And thank you for clearing that up even further! In the sense that TBD is a guide through the bardo of death (important to note that there are more than just one bardo represented in TBD) it IS a book of teachings. But clearer teachings can be found in other texts for the bardo of life.
I think it is important for people to realize that gaining an understanding of the Tibetan teachings solely from the TBD would prove to be both difficult and confusing. It is a very cryptic manual for death and dying. Clearer more simple manuals for living can be found.
For anyone interested in pursuing the tachings of Tibet I highly reccomend reading Dzogchen - the Self Perfected State, by Namkhai Norbu Rinpoche. It is an excellent read and expresses the heart of the teachings as well as any text can. Truly a must read for those interested in understanding this particular spiritual path.
Right on, varj.
I really like the direction of this thread. Sort of like a Dead song being created as the boyz play. Never know what we're going to get in the end...
And I really enjoy posts that give me something to chew on for a few hours or days before replying. That said....
I have a tough time imagining any reader beginning an education about buddha through the Book of da Dead. While I'm guessing most of us have read through many books on buddhist teachings, I do appreciate your recommended reading and will get to it as soon as possible.
I also see TBD as a reflection of a guide to living. There is no such thing as death, according to what I've read of Tibetan teachings. However, if reincarnation is a biological fact, then all sentient beings participate, regardless of faith.
Bringing the conversation back full circle, the text of the TBD seems to have more meaning to me when examined in the context of a smoked dmt experience and all the lessons that entails. I see many similarities, including the role of fear and the fact that demons experienced in both states are products of one's own mind. Sound also plays an important role in both scenarios. Calming one's mind is central to both experiences.
Also, I see the Buddhist masters' reincarnation to help ease suffering in the world as a natural reaction by a person of any faith who reaches a point of enlightenment. I believe there may be many routes to the same destination. But there are few road maps aiding in the transversion of the non-physical plane
lw.
It is difficult to sort out the teaching of the Buddha from the teaching of Buddishm. Like Judaic prophets, the Buddha concerned himself with the here and now, the right way of living, not the world to come.
If you consult Buddhist doctrine, then you find that the core of the matter is that life is suffering; suffering is infinite, for no matter how bad things are, we can always imagine some way in which they could be worse--have you lost everything? Well, what if you had had more?
I love this world, and though Buddhism comes closest for me to a Way, like lw I've always balked at the characterization of life as something to be escaped. With all the pangs and sorrow it entails, life is so sweet.
Still, it is useful to keep in mind the historical context of Buddhism. It arose in the world of Hindu castes, when the many "common peple" were born into an inferior status that could not be shed. In that sense, it is a revolutionary creed similar to the rise of Christianity in the milieu of Roman rule and Pharisee collaboration: both were transcendant responses to a grim reality.
V. has a good point about how life is for most people on this Earth. I traveled through many "Third World" countries in the 70s and 80s--compared to the grinding life 90% of humans experience, even the poorest American is wealthy. It is a perspective difficult to attain without direct witness.
Both Buddhism and Christianity have suffered the accretion of ecclesiastical authority after a radical beginning: the Buddhist temples in China became political power centers that even the emperors had to contend with--Buddhist monks helped topple the S. Vietnamese government; Christianity at its origin was a radical faith of direct testimony of sacred experience, but within three centuries it had become co-opted by the Roman Empire, and individuals were forbidden to speak of direct experience of the divine.
For me, the Book of the Dead contains an essential insight: that one's consciousness at the moment of biological death is of paramount importance. Christianity and the other faiths "of the Book" teach the same, putting great emphasis on death-bed confessions and conversions.
Like a coral reef, that central insight has had many layers of orthodoxy and doctrine layered upon it, but the insight remains...when you die, pay close attention: it matters.
Speaking of suffering, consider the Book of Job, which I think is one of the most brilliant books in the Bible. God, in response to Satan's dare, visits terrible tragedies upon Job's family. Job's faith is unshaken. Satan says, sure, you haven't really hurt him--reach out and touch his person. Eventually, Job sits on a dung heap, tearing out his hair, covered in boils, all his children slaughtered, all his herds destroyed. His wife tells him to curse God and die. His neighbors stop by to suggest he must have done something to deserve his fate; he refutes them, in a haunting passage that describes the state of the world: the good suffer, the evil prosper, there is no justice. Then he cries out for God to justify what has been done to him and God appears in a great roaring whirlwind to ask, Where were you when I put the stars in the sky? Who are you, little man, to challenge me? Job is overwhelmed and prostrates himself...but God also says that Job has spoken the truth of things, and that Job's neighbors fall short in their understanding. All is restored to Job. And yet...
The good suffer. The evil prosper. We can be filled with a sense of the sacredness of all things, but that does not erase what we know about suffering. To me, this is not the Noble Truth--it is the Great Mystery.
The balance we can achieve is via a greater apprehension of the beautiful and the sacred: we cannot escape the vale of tears and sorrow, but we can realize the beautiful and transcendant. That is my understanding of the essence of the Book of the Dead.
Further, I deponeth not :)
It's the mystery and the wonder of it all.
How swells the moment when i hurt or agonize over dilemnas, yet how miniscule the importance on the road of all earth's history.
The Book of Job is the greatest dramatization of perspective i've ever read, but it also brings to mind the traditional Jewish tale of the houseowner mourning the size of his home.
Oh Lord! How can I live in such a place! It's so small, my wife and children are falling on top of one another! How can I live here even one more day?
With that, he went outside, leaving his door ajar. In walked his sheep, his hens, his cows and his goats. Turkeys and geese padded in. Dogs and stray cats found their way inside.
The houseowner came back to his door at nightfall and found he could barely squeeze in past the doorpost.
Oh, Lord! Now what? My small house is now so filled with creatures, I can hardly move! What to do?
With that, the animals started to file out - the goats, dogs, cats. The sheep, hens and the cows. The geese and the turkeys followed suit.
Oh, Lord! Thank you! My house has grown in size. Blessed art Thou!
.....(i mean, first there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is)
.judih
Right on, judih!
Tstt and I have had a similar discussion concerning the way tiny changes in perceptions can drastically alter one's beliefs/actions.
lw
yes, Lw. the smallest step away from outer turmoil and towards an inner calm makes all the difference.
Morning meditation and a few recharges throughout the day could change the direction of history. i truly believe it.
Ya know, there are so many gems in the thread, it is really really cool.... All the philosophical theorizing, all the great distillation into quotable quotes...etc etc--------------- Great Great thread==== carry on peeps :D :D ---------------- sal
QuoteRight on, judih!
Tstt and I have had a similar discussion concerning the way tiny changes in perceptions can drastically alter one's beliefs/actions.
lw
Amen, judih, lw.
[judih, I've heard a variation of that story from an Orthodox friend, son of a rabbi...in his version, the fellow asks his Rabbi for advice and the Rabbi tells him to move in the chickens. The next day the guy says that didn't help, and the Rabbi tells him to move in the cows. This continues for a week or so. Then, after all the livestock are in the house, he tells him to move them all out, and the fellow is astonished at how big his house has become. Great story in either version...]
I've alluded to multiple escapades--my li'l mantra, 'burnt, shot, beaten and stabbed'--but the sense I've been left with is great good fortune: sometimes I look back at all I've survived, and I think I must be the luckiest man in the world.
I didn't expect to survive my yourth, took risks many people thought were insane...and yet here I am, mid 50s, pressing the spine surgeon to agree that I can attend tree climbing school next spring if all goes well.
Like my regular doc says, "Every day above ground is a good day."
My Dad once told me, "I know you can fall into a vat of shit and come out smelling like a rose, but that doesn't mean you have to jump in the shit everytime you step in it!" :)
Like he had room to talk: he was sprung from an orphanage at age 10 by his older brother (13), and they spent the Depression hopping rails. I don't know if they were truly the "Greatest Generation"--but they were definitely tough as nails.
Quote from: "judih"yes, Lw. the smallest step away from outer turmoil and towards an inner calm makes all the difference.
Morning meditation and a few recharges throughout the day could change the direction of history. i truly believe it.
If we feel positive and act positive to the people around us we change how they feel and have made a change. That could very likely even affect such events that in the history after often are regarded as "large". People often talk about going back in history and shoot Hitler but maybe it could be enough to back and give him some knowledge about how to deal with the post-traumatic-stress from WI and similar problems that he might have had.
I'm afraid I didn't really get anything out of the Tibetan Book of the Dead. I guess I just didn't relate to it.
You know, the title of this thread startled me for a moment. I thought it meant Dimitri from Deoxy.org was dead.
I have been reading a few threads here, there, and around. I declined to revive any. But fitting out of all of them I'd choose this particular topic.
Ever since my first 5-meo-dmt (refered to as 5) nearly 6 years ago I have wreslted with Eternal Doubt.
I have experimented and used various other tryptamines(like)(n,ndmt;amt;5meoamt,psilo,lsd) as merely recreational prior to 5. Though these latter substances induced differing stages of realization I never felt I was anywhere near understanding.
(Backstory)
I grew up with little knowledge of Buddhism with what little my Japanese-intergrated mother shared. As a child I inquired about being and who I was. I felt since an early coincindental memory at 5 year's old about dying and awaking as someone else somewhere else. My name perplexed me.
Was that who I was? Was this body me?
But as I grew older these and other thoughts were set aside as I began to bolster the illusion attaching a name and body. My mother passed away when I was 15 and from that point on I have been doing things on my own, making a lot of mistakes without much guidance. At 16 I got into entheogenic use after having reoccuring dreams of my mother alive. She was doing well in a new apartment where I would visit her. After some time the dreams faded into memory and I knew she was in a better place. Heaven didn't seem to fit, it was beyond words and ideas.
A few years passed and I got into ayahuasca. My first brew was caapi with hostilis/chaliponga. My visions centered around mostly childhood memories. One outstanding particular memory brought me back to 4-6 years old on the living room floor playing with my sister. My mother was sitting on the couch looking out a window. I looked up and caught her eye's reflected in the window. At that moment those feelings some years earlier of her being "alright" were verified. Not so much that she was in Heaven or Nirvana ... but I knew she lived within me and I in her. Our set of eyes became one. And this coalesced into a cascading pattern... mandalas etc. Distancing, seperation, freedom, unity.
Now back to 5...
Lo and behold one day I am graciously bestowed with 5. That first experience is still the one that all other experiences are measured upon. Nothing cut to the core, Manjushri's sword had severed my head and I lay bathed in anuttara samyak sambodhi. I won't go into detail because there is nothing to describe. Afterwards my yearning for Buddhism almost spontaneously occured. Concepts I never read or heard were innate. And with this I inquired into as much spiritual mumbo-jumbo I could get my hands on, including the TBD. Much like a child who learns to ride a bike, one wants to ride on forever. So I delved deep into Tibetan Bu., Zen Bu, Sufism, Advaita etc. The message was clear and all lead to the One.
I began practicing meditation... sitting, lying, walking. Samadhi. Hoping to finally integrate what I believed to be my enlightenment. The harder I attempted the further I went astray. Mentally I was extremely depressed, I lost my job, lived on the streets for nearly a year.
Inquiring constantly on what went wrong and was it all just an hallucination... the thoughts bound in me as I became a modern mendicant. What else to do? And I was happy without a home, living freely, practicing what I thought was the bodhisattva path. Again I fell into delusion forcing this life upon myself in attempts to break away from who I was. Pride is a funny thing and playing the martyr was just more attachment. Woe is me I thought at my life... such indignation. People suffering far worse than I and I want a damned cookie for my needless austerities. Another realization. I humbled myself and asked for help. Help came and I moved to Florida.
I guess my point could have been stated with less words , but I have learned to just do instead attempt. All books and knowledge of such kind are the finger pointing at the moon. Ancient purple monkey dishwasher sutras/scriptures become modern and the message is not the point. I have thought about becoming a monk, then the question "Who taught the Buddha?" pops in an out. I ebb for a master and flow for independence. The watercourse way leads between. Selflessness and compassion, forbearance and vigor, charity and wisdom.
I have rambled on long enough. Some may understand some may not. I write.
"When our thoughts are on others , to free them from their misery."
"To think is to confine yourself to a sole thought that one day shines still like a star in the sky"
Everything is a distraction, remain clear and receptive. Visions manifest from you, and you are everything. Thus we remain our biggest distractions.
Right on, sal.
Thanks for adding to this web of a thread.
I find your childhood memories/confusion of name and body to be quite interesting. ANd it sounds like you have been blessed with some beautiful dreams while exploring your inner-workings.
That's a powerful story, imo.
lw