The Tibetan Book of the Dead is not a beach read.

It's an ancient Buddhist text meant to be read aloud to a person as they're dying, a kind of instruction manual for navigating what comes next. The Tibetans call this in-between state the Bardo - A transitional space between one thing ending and the next thing beginning.

Heavy stuff, you would think.

The Bardo isn't just about death-death. According to Tibetan Buddhist philosophy, we pass through Bardo-like states all the time. Every major change in your life - every identity you shed or phase you go through, every chapter you close - is like a “mini-death”, just as anything that comes after is a “mini-rebirth”.

So, you've already died a few times. You just didn't think of it that way.

The version of you that existed before your worst breakup? Gone. That person trusted differently, loved differently and probably had a completely different idea of what they wanted. Dead.

The person you were before you lost someone you loved (really lost them) in the way that rearranges everything? That version of you didn't survive either.

These are the mini-deaths. And most of us move through them the same way we move through the big one… with our eyes closed, holding our breath, trying to get to the other side as fast as possible without considering what's actually happening.

And that’s a shame because the Bardo - the in-between - that’s where the magic happens.

There's a reason the Tibetan Book of the Dead is read during the dying process and not after. The transition is the whole thing. Not the life before it, not whatever comes next - the crossing itself. The moment.

Most of us treat life's transitions like layovers. We distract ourselves, numb ourselves, rush through the grief and the uncertainty to get back to comfortable ground as fast as possible.

But here's what the Stoics, the Buddhists, and frankly every therapist worth their rate will tell you: the person who comes out the other side of a hard transition is shaped almost entirely by how they moved through it. Not by how fast they got through it or what got them there in the first place.

Grief avoided doesn't go away. It just goes quiet and weird. It shows up later, sideways, in ways you won't recognize until you're already in the thick of it.

The in-between is asking you to pay attention. To sit in the stink a little and take note of what's happening.

You've done this before. You came out the other side. And you were different, better - especially if you were paying attention.

Next time you feel like you're in the middle of something ending - and you will feel this, probably more than once this year - try treating it less like a problem to solve and more like a passage to move through.

Ask yourself:

Who was I before this? Who do I want to be on the other side?

The gap between those two answers is the Bardo. It's uncomfortable. It's uncertain. It's also the most alive you'll feel if you let yourself feel it.

The Tibetans prepared for death their whole lives - not out of morbidity, but because they understood that dying well is a skill. And like all skills, you get better at it with practice.

Lucky for you, life gives us plenty of chances to practice.

Next issue: The people who actually died and came back. What near-death experience survivors consistently report, and why it changes the way you think about pretty much everything.

Love to all,

Drew

I share thoughtful word art and short reflections on life, death, and what actually matters in between. One short note every week or two. No pressure. No noise. Unsubscribe anytime. Visit the website for more.

Thanks and we’ll talk again soon -

Drew