Post #1 – February 1, 2026
One reason for discussing the bardos is to share my understanding of the soul’s journey relevant to the body’s experience of birth, living, dying and death (of the body), as well as the intermediate state during which the mind (yes our minds are relevant even after death) directs the soul towards or away from reincarnation (although reincarnation may not be accepted by many, we can also view this process in the context of the reincarnation of undesirable characteristics and personality traits within ourselves and others).
I am the youngest daughter of a church lady; the one who is called to pray over the convalescing, the dying, the dead, the buried; the one who leads the Novenas, the one who dashes out of the home after receiving a phone call in the middle of the night, the one who shows up at school at random hours explaining to my teachers why I missed yet another day of grade school. The number of house prayers, funerals, and wakes I attended as a child seems countless. There was a sense of privilege about my multiple unplanned, yet excused, school absences; they were expected and acceptable. Traversing the duality of living life while honoring the definitive process of dying is a lesson I began learning at a very young age. There was never a need to ask questions out of curiosity. I was flung into the abyss of this wisdom just like I was expected to take that first breath upon expulsion from my mother’s womb. It was all very natural, organic, and unquestionable. From childhood, I learned to honor and not to question illness, death, or prayer. I learned the rituals, the songs, the correct timing and length of silent pauses, and the recitation of specific words and their intonations with each bead of the rosary and the cross. Prayer was attached to stages of existence: to physical recovery from illness or surgery, to the soul’s process of departure, to the bridge between the soul’s departure and its final place of rest, to the soul’s travel from embodiment to eternal rest or purgatory or hell, to the memory of the person that soul became while incarnated in our physical realm. So much wisdom ingrained in a 6-year-old's subconscious shaped me into a person who grew up understanding that there was more to death, that somehow, we still needed ritual to help our souls get somewhere after leaving our bodies. As a young girl, I lacked the words to define and identify what was happening and the “why” behind it all, yet that unnamed sense of knowing became a sort of internal weighted compass that has kept me both grounded and segregated from mainstream thought regarding death and dying.
My mother’s passing twenty years ago initiated the rite of passage that transitioned me from a prayer child to a spiritual warrior. It was my yoga practice that held me together during my mother’s final years (which were intensified with acute illness and family disconnectedness). Once her soul had been released from her body, my focus and concerns were not on the funeral arrangements, but on the continued journey of her soul. Many years earlier, my mother expressed a desire for the rituals of her ancestral lineage (including dancing, singing, drumming, and celebration). My family (rigid followers of the catholic tradition) would not honor her wishes, and years later, I found myself performing these rituals on my own, albeit not fully understanding the power behind this practice. I later learned that praying for the soul of the dearly departed wasn’t performed solely by Catholics and esoteric spiritualists, but by a myriad of other cultures and belief systems. This experience connected me worldwide with others who also honor the soul's journey. I have kept this intention alive throughout the years, making meditation an essential part of my yoga practice and my daily life, embracing the stillness and weightlessness it brings me. Yoga became the roadmap to my meditative state. Meditation became as natural and organic as eating and sleeping; an inner space I access to harness peace, tranquility, wholeness, clarity, and resilience.
Over the years, through deeper self-seeking and learning, I would come to see that meditation, like dreaming, is a component of the Bardos. The six main Bardos describe the phases or periods of the soul. These include the bardo of birth and life, the bardo of the dream state, the bardo of meditation, the bardo of dying, the bardo of the luminosity of the true nature, and the bardo of becoming. Mindfulness exercises help us ground, settle our minds, and build awareness of ourselves and our environment by tuning into our five senses. Meditation, however, requires that we minimize or even pause these sensory connections. Thus, a yogi can learn to withdraw from the five senses. This practice is called Pratyahara. During the dying process (of the body), there is a distinct sequence of sensory withdrawal that occurs as the body’s systems collapse. My next post will explain this process. Until then, I hope you take this information in small bites, as I am sharing life experience and wisdom I’ve gained over 50+ years of living…and learning. Namaste <3