Can a human come back as a cat, dog or other animal?

Buddhist

Photo by Krista Mangulsone on Unsplash

Rebirth is one of the aspects of Tibetan Buddhism that fascinates and, in some cases, perturbs people. The idea that some aspect of consciousness continues after life is hardly unusual, but the suggestion that our consciousness as human beings could somehow manifest in a canine, feline or other form is one that many Westerners find confronting. Me come back as a cockroach? What kind of nonsense is this?!

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Why do we find the idea of rebirth in any form other than human so disturbing? One reason is probably because we live in a culture where our sentience as humans, along with our physical and psychological needs are constantly affirmed, at the same time that the sentience, physical and psychological needs of most other living beings are negated. Human exceptionalism is a deeply ingrained cultural assumption.

In recent years there have been important attempts to change this, like the Cambridge Declaration of 2012 when for the first time, leading scientists joined to declare that consciousness isn’t unique to humans. Also, the Animal Welfare (Sentience) Act 2022 in UK, recognizing animal sentience for the first time in legislation. Collective attitudes may be slowly shifting, but the duality between human versus other sentient beings remains profound.

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Moving from the general to the particular, most of us just don’t buy the idea that minds as complex, sophisticated and intelligent as our own could somehow occupy the body of, say, a lizard. How could I move from being an active, savvy human being to sitting on a rock in the sun all day? It just doesn’t make any sense.

This was certainly the way I felt when I first gave any serious thought to the subject. I just couldn’t see how my mind could somehow be squeezed into that of a hamster’s.

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But what happens when we approach the subject of rebirth from a different starting point?

Culturally, it is significant that Tibetans encompass both humans and animal in the phrase sem chen, meaning “mind haver” or “mind possessor.” The idea that both animals and humans are conscious beings is a radically different cultural foundation from our own. Far from humans being exceptional, we are equivalent to other sem chens, and in the most fundamental of ways. Tibetan Buddhism constantly reminds us that all sem chens are the same in seeking happiness, wishing to avoid suffering and placing the greatest value on our own life. When it comes to the basics, we have the same priorities.

What about humans being more intelligent, sophisticated and complex? Of course we are in terms of worldly measures. But no one ever suggested that it is our intelligence, acquired personality, memories, or other aspects of the mind that move from one lifetime to the next. Rather, meditation traditions going back millennia are the basis of a more nuanced understanding of consciousness.

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While we, in the West, accord special acclaim to sportspeople who are able run races, ascend rock cliffs, and do other physical things unimaginable to ordinary mortals, in the East, this kind of praise has in the past been offered to those capable of doing mental things well beyond most of us. For example, meditators who, in controlling their minds and the prana in their bodies, simulate the death process and observe what happens. While this may seem somehow otherworldly or freakish to newcomers, it is far from rare. I have instructions on exactly how to do so on my own bookshelf, as do most other serious practitioners. It is not for want of information that I haven’t managed to do it myself, but want of effort! I am no gold medal meditator, nor would I pretend to be.

Following the same protocols as western scientists - namely, experimentation, observation, peer review and repetition – more dedicated meditators offer consistent insight. Namely, that in the same way we experience a dissolution of physical systems when we die, there is a parallel dissolution of mental systems. The gross physical form progressively shuts down until all that is left is a warmth at the heart. Sensory and other mental functioning also shuts down until all that is left is very subtle consciousness at the heart. It is this very subtle consciousness that leaves the body.

The very subtle consciousness is not the ‘me’, ‘myself’ and ‘I’ we identify with in this lifetime. Like our body, that experience has come to an end. What carries onwards is a bundle of propensities, attractions and aversions that colors our experience of reality just as they do right now, moment by moment. And the karma that arises in those first instants after death is what ushers in our whole next framework of reality – human, feline, canine or other.

Meditation masters tell us that the bardo state which occurs after one life ends and before the next begins is, experientially, like what happens when we dream. As we all experience when dreaming we can easily find ourselves in a completely different body, or type of body, in situations that are heavenly or hellish. Things can and do easily change and change again, all the time feeling vividly real when our minds are untethered to physical form. Why do we underestimate our own capacity to create entirely different realities when we do so just about every night – whether or not we can always recall it.

Let’s say we find ourselves in the bardo state experiencing reality as a cat. Because this transitionary state is one that’s so changeable and bewildering, our wish isa to concretize, to make solid this cat-like ‘me’ experience. We will seek rebirth as a cat and be attracted by karmic propensities towards certain cats. This is called ‘throwing’ karma. ‘Finishing’ karma will determine whether we end up being offered clotted cream off a silver teaspoon by Mrs. Trinci or living in a back alley.

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This, from a Tibetan Buddhist perspective, is only a summary outline of the mechanics by which a human being dies, and his or her very subtle mind may go on to manifest in the form of any sem chen. Whether or not it is simply a hypothetical model or something to be more deeply considered will depend on how much we are willing to explore, reflect and meditate on consciousness itself.

Because even I, as a decidedly non-Olympian meditator, have experienced enough over the years to know for sure that consciousness is not merely a binary thing that you either have or don’t, but rather that it exists in varying degrees of subtlety and complexity; that the way we experience time is something of a fudge a lot less linear than it seems; and that my mind is both powerful and infinite, capable of producing the most spectacularly vivid experiences of which that of a domestic cat is actually quite hum drum. About which even His Holiness’s Cat would agree – except in her own case, naturally!

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Warmest wishes,

David

This week in Zimbabwe at Wild is Life: James the young Zebra bids good morning to Skye the giraffe. Exquisite!

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