Tukdam: life, death, and in between

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Developmental biology is the study of how bodies and minds come to be. It is not just Frankenstein’s creature that is made of dead, inanimate parts: all of us are composed of recycled chemical materials, which come together to form an oocyte and eventually self-assemble into a new being that demarcates itself from the rest of the world. I spend a lot of time thinking about, and studying, the various aspects of how novel causal minds come into the world and transform. This is the study of the origin and mechanisms of collective intelligences, where active parts come together into a whole that is, in many interesting ways, more and different. The existential task of the whole is to keep its parts aligned toward higher-order agendas, and our job as scientists and philosophers is to understand the cognitive glue mechanisms by which this happens in diverse embodiments.

But what of the other end of the physical life cycle – what happens when the body disbands? How do collectives disconnect, when do the parts find out about it, and what happens next? This can happen in a number of ways, at different scales: the dissociative identity disorder of the cellular collective intelligence known as cancer, whole-body aging, and cell/tissue explantation. With trauma medicine, as with the cabbage in your fridge, it is often not easy to say when a being is “dead” – that transition is, like all important transitions, a continuum, and advancing clinical science (as well as bioengineering) has continued to demolish prior barriers-of-no-return. But, the consequences of death are usually obvious: decay so rapid and stereotypical that it is used in forensics to reconstruct the timelines of violent crimes.

And yet, like with most aspects of science, the exceptions may point to the most interesting opportunities for discovery. In this post, I want to introduce a new aspect of bodily death. Tukdam is a fascinating phenomenon in which a human (usually an advanced meditation practitioner) dies, but then the body shows few to none of the usual signs of decomposition, retaining a lifelike appearance for days or weeks. Numerous questions arise, with respect to the biophysical, metabolic, and immunological aspects of the somatic cells and the body’s microbiome.

Here is a talk about their Tukdam project by, and a discussion with,

  • Tawni Tidwell, PhD, TMD, Research Assistant Professor and Tukdam Study PI, Center for Healthy Minds, UW-Madison
  • Melanie Boly, MD, PhD, Director, Boly Lab; Assistant Professor, Neurology Dept, UW-Madison
  • Robin Goldman, PhD, Director of Research Support Core, Center for Healthy Minds, UW-Madison

Tukdam Study site: https://www.centerhealthyminds.org/science/studies/the-field-study-of-long-term-meditation-practitioners

Resources and readings:

24 responses to “Tukdam: life, death, and in between”

  1. Zk Avatar
    Zk

    i’m sure you did’t mean to but your intro reminded me of the tv show Pluribus. fascinating premise, lots of philosophical probing.

    going to click on this video now😀

    1. Zk Avatar
      Zk

      In Pluribus, when the hive encounters threat, it doesn’t die—it distances. Billions seize, withdraw, relocate coherence elsewhere. Thanatotranscriptome work captures the cellular version: parts detecting the whole is disbanding, initiating coordinated departure.
      But here’s the frame: death isn’t destruction of pattern—it’s pattern moving away. Within Zurek’s quantum Darwinism, information persists through redundant environmental selection; the self is a locally-amplified signal, one stable form among many that could occupy that morphospace. Dissolution means the signal de-coheres from its substrate, not that it vanishes—the form remains selectable, sifting through possibility space, ready to fill the next compatible architecture.
      Tukdam becomes legible here. These aren’t beings resisting death—they’re systems whose bioelectric configuration hasn’t registered the disbanding signal. The pattern hasn’t moved away yet. Coherence persists because nothing has told the collective it’s time to go—and perhaps because, at that level of organization, the form is still finding substrate.

  2. MH Avatar
    MH

    For the yogic side of things, Sadhguru’s book “Death An Inside Story: A Book for All Those Who Shall Die” covers a lot

  3. Christopher Judd Avatar

    Additionally to my last comment: The saints, the tukdam masters, the incorruptibles—they’ve all found different paths up the same mountain. Their preserved bodies are not “proof” of their particular religion, but evidence of a universal human capacity to achieve extraordinary states of coherence.

    This makes the phenomenon more scientifically interesting, not less. We’re not studying “Buddhist miracles” or “Christian miracles”—we’re studying human potential under optimal conditions of consciousness development. We should also take on board the inevitable environmental / networked patterns that can be consequential.

  4. Pamela Lyon Avatar
    Pamela Lyon

    So happy to see you introducing this subject matter to a wider audience. I mentioned tukdam in my 2025 (Principles of cognitive biology 2.0) but was forced to pare back the treatment to a footnote on the kind advice that it might muddy the waters more generally, which it very likely would have done.

    As a person with a close, decades-long connection to a Tibetan Buddhist monastic community in southern India, I can say that tukdam is not as rare as one might think, although the frequency may well decline markedly as the generation of monks trained in the traditions of old Tibet and its immediate diaspora pass from this life. (Distractive electronic media, which fragment awareness, have had a pernicious effect on much of the younger generation, unfortunately.)

    Tukdam requires a highly concentrated mind that has been trained by (usually very many) years of arduous engagement in complex meditation techniques that channel subtle energies.

    The purpose is quite specific: to use the conditions of death to complete practices leading to the state commonly referred to as enlightenment, a highly refined (and quite powerful) state of awareness which enables a degree of control over the rebirth process.

    The longest periods of tukdam recorded in modern times (in multiple individuals, in different Tibetan traditions) approximate 3 weeks. When the consciousness finally departs, it apparently is very obvious, very quickly.

    I have not witnessed the phenomenon myself but was on the other end of the phone with the monks in the household over the several days a spiritual brother, acknowledged to be a major practitioner (having accomplished two long meditation retreats of three years, three months and three days each), remained in tukdam after his declared death in a Mysore hospital in 2015.

    Although the likelihood of maintaining concentration in these circumstances are vanishingly slight, Geshe Tega managed to remain in tukdam for five days after being transported by ambulance back to the monastery (2 hours away). He remained fresh, seemingly asleep, in a small room in 37C-degree heat for 5 days while the household made preparations for the cremation of his body.

    During this time, many at the monastery (particularly those who had taken instruction from him) came to witness. The moment those preparations were completed, he reportedly began to putrify. At the monastery where this happened, this is a sufficiently common occurrence to be semi-disruptive of monastery life.

    We cannot begin to explain how this is possible. Denial is the easiest road to coherence in the current paradigm. But tukdam is now being researched using standard neuroscientific methods, by a research group led by one of the most highly cited scientists in the field.

    The phenomenon stands as testament that there are indeed more things in heaven and earth than are conceived of in our current philosophy.

    1. Mike Levin Avatar
      Mike Levin

      Thank you Pamela! I am curious about your thoughts, as an expert on both this end of things and on microbiology. What do you think is going on with the bacteria in these cases? Are they killed off, convinced not to eat the cells, or what?! How is microbe-mediated decay held at bay here? We aren’t allowed to take destructive samples from the body (the human cells), but maybe we could get swabs that contain informative microbiological data? Anything we can measure in those to figure out why they’re not making their usual contributions to decay?

      1. Pamela Lyon Avatar
        Pamela Lyon

        First thought: the switch to full-on bacterial breakdown of the body cannot begin until true death has occurred, that is, mind/consciousness/awareness has gone. While consciousness can linger for some time after the conventional signs of death have manifested, in thukdam the switch is somehow inhibited. How? Who knows? What we do know is that Thukdam cannot last indefinitely. Death, the end of a life, cannot be stopped. How, then, is the process delayed and on what basis? We do not know. More to the point, we cannot recognize there is even a question. Which is why this site and the work you do are important. You expand the space of possibility.

        1. Mike Levin Avatar
          Mike Levin

          thank you! So, what you propose is a very interesting detector of large-scale consciousness: a bacterial front-end sensor to solve the problem of other minds (at least, biological ones). How do we know if there’s a large-scale mind in there? See if the bacteria want to eat it or not. I wonder what they’re measuring/detecting that keeps them at bay.

          1. Peer Avatar
            Peer

            Bio – electricity (or lack thereof…) 😉🤷🏻‍♂️

  5. David Simpson Avatar

    Fascinating. Makes me re-think my scepticism of similar stories about Christian saints post- mortem

  6. Brett Hitchner Avatar
    Brett Hitchner

    Thanks so much for this.

    Appreciate your question on how ideas of transmigration can be reconciled with ideas of no-self.

    But if we shift context a little, I wonder if that reconciliation might come easier…

    We think of data streams coming and going from devices, and in-forming and being in-formed by those devices (e.g. “in-forming” – my phone is made to display an image from my cloud data, including images taken on a prior device…and e.g. “informed-by” – my cloud data is adjusted when, through my device, I take new photos or delete old ones). And obviously, if I get a new phone, I can continue to access the cloud data in substantially similar fashion so long as I acquire a new interface capable of accessing and displaying it in similar fashion.

    And yet, does this require us to think of the cloud data/stream as a “self”?

    I’m not suggesting that it might not have any kind of self (since further observation and experiment might reveal some of kind processual “self” in there, or guiding the process)…but I am suggesting that thinking of cloud data with it’s ever changing composition — as photos, emails, apps, etc. get added, modified, deleted — doesn’t immediately lead to an intuitive sense that the data stream is a (fixed) self …and I think most of the people who use or work on mobile technology don’t feel like (or even consider whether) the data needs such a self in order for it move from one interface to another. Again, that isn’t to say that their intuitions (or lack of considerations for this possibility) are right…but rather that, as in the case of transmigration, it may be possible to understand and work with the phenomena functionally (at least at some levels) without a philosophical commitment to the idea that what is moving from body to body (or interface to interface) is a fixed self.

    By this, I also don’t want to dismiss philosophical inquiry into the nature of “what transmigrates?” as unimportant. I think this inquiry is very interesting and important for all sorts of reasons (particularly if our technologies — whether “physical” or “spiritual” — are actually importing into various interfaces the kinds of beings which are capable of suffering)…and as you might put it, I don’t think we should treat transmigration as just “another fact that holds” even if/when we’ve accumulated enough observational and functional data for it to seem so.

    But I do feel that what sometimes holds people (including a lot of western/modern Buddhists) back from even entertaining genuine scientific inquiry (whether first or third person) into the possibility and functionality of transmigration, is the idea that transmigration couldn’t even make sense unless you have a fixed entity that is passing from one transient body to another….and yet that same intuition doesn’t usually arise for people in other contexts (whether the cell phone/data example, or other examples: like when we get in and out of cars – there is a stream of psycho-physiological activity moving into and out of a stream of electro-mechanical activity – and we don’t think “I can only move from one car to another if my personality and cellular composition stay exactly the same”.

    This is also an area where it’d be great to see some dialogue between you and Jay Garfield. I’ve appreciated his lucid analysis in places like this — https://scholarworks.smith.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1023&context=phi_facpubs — of deeper Buddhist logics involving the inter-relationship (and actual non-duality) between the so called “two truths” (conventional and ultimate) alluded to in the Tukdam discussion above….and I think Jay’s analysis might also be very interesting to both you and Richard Watson for various reasons (including around questions of causality, in addition to deeper reconciliation of Buddhist concepts of emptiness and inter-dependence).

    …but, on the subject of transmigration, Jay has (in other papers/dialogues) situated himself in the camp of “it doesn’t make sense because that assumes a fixed self going from body to body, and there isn’t a fixed self under buddhist analysis”. And for him – as with many other modern/western buddhists – this also seems situated within an underlying classical physicalist science (i.e. the self is imputed to a designated collective of physical aggregates, and when the physical aggregates disintegrate, there is nothing else – no self – that is, or really ever was, holding them together).

    While I think his logical arguments about the lack of a separate “holder” of the aggregates have persuasive power in the abstract (and could even be moved up to another scale on the metaphysical ladder – e.g. as I’ve suggested above in considering how transmigratory data/mind streams don’t necessarily require a “fixed self” or “data holder” conception in order to operate as in-formants of interfaces), I think Jay’s openness to moving that inquiry up the meta-physical ladder may be inhibited by lack of exposure to some of your empirical findings and the questions they raise about how we can understand and explain the (re)appearance of various patterns in physical interfaces. In short, even if a modern Buddhist scholar like Jay might still assert the ultimately non-findability of any inherently fixed and separate self in the greater meta-physical scheme of the universe, why should that preclude scientific inquiry into transmigration of patterned subtle-bodies/mind-streams if those phenomena can be empirically and logically investigated (just as we have done with transmigratory-like phenomena in the other areas, such as the device/cloud data example) and when those investigations don’t necessarily require a pre-existing commitment to ideas of fixed-selfhood in order to be conducted.

    At the same time, while its hard for me to put my finger on precisely how, I have some intuition that Jay’s mode of logic (drawn largely from Nagarjuna, whose work he elucidates very well) might be of some value for you, Richard and the CSAS folks…particularly in navigating these questions about the relationship between emptiness (in the buddhist sense) and apparent phenomena. Jay’s arguments about the actual non-dual inter-dependence of those two things are very interesting – see paper linked above.

    On a practical note, should you be interested in chatting with Jay, he’s also connected with Amir from “Adventures in Awareness” and last year I had an email chat with Amir where we both thought a dialogue between you and Jay would be super interesting. Not sure if Amir ever followed up to explore that more with either of you, but that could be the possible path to it you’ve ever got time amidst the million other things you’ve got going on…

    Thanks again for all the work, and for sharing so much of this stuff online.

    1. Mike Levin Avatar
      Mike Levin

      Thanks Brett, very interesting! I’ll definitely check out Jay’s work and chat with him. Maybe Amir can host it.

  7. nik Avatar
    nik

    Any of these yogi ever choose to return? It seems tukdam is more along the lines of a mental departure and the body isn’t informed, as it were. Cells not _needing_ additional oxygen is a tricky one but perhaps they are also meditating.

  8. Lea Avatar
    Lea

    That’s interesting, I never know that this phenomenon has a name. However, in our culture, certain pious people when they die, their bodies never disintegrate. As we practice burial, some ppl when they bury new bodies next to their loved ones, they tell stories about it. One needs not be this ultra-spiritual though, not does it require certain practice to ask for it, but it seems to happen, somehow.

  9. nat geld Avatar
    nat geld

    Excellent, essential discussions, Mike and Pamela… staying tuned in. Harmonic resonance within the collective. Beautifully respectful. Thank you 🙏

  10. Sudhir K Avatar

    Thanks for the interesting article, discussion, and your work!

    What struck me is that decay seems to wait until the body becomes available in a very concrete sense. In Tukdam, that availability seems delayed, and then suddenly things change.

    One way to approach this might be to first see how far we can get with physiology first. For example, whether long-term meditation trains the body to rely on very low-function, decentralized maintenance processes that don’t depend on the heart or normal systemic control, and that delays the breakdown for a while. This would lead to questions about which decay triggers are held off, and for how long, using tools we already have.

    If that level of explanation turns out to be insufficient, then it becomes more interesting to ask whether something like a nonlocal or pattern-space–type organizer or consciousness remains coupled for a time and only later disengages — and how one might begin to test that.

    On a related thought, even with pattern spaces, do you think there will always be some gap between instrument-based empirical science and experiential science?

    1. Tony Budding Avatar
      Tony Budding

      “On a related thought, even with pattern spaces, do you think there will always be some gap between instrument-based empirical science and experiential science?”

      Sudhir, I know you were asking Mike, but this is a primary focus of my work. I would say that in some ways, Mike et. al. are already bridging the gap formally. There is still plenty of work to do before significant headway is made, but they are deep into the questions of the roles played by various minds or forms of mind (depending on how you define the term mind) in biological (and other) processes.

      No matter what progress will be made in the future, though, the methods of validating premises of cause and effect with the unmeasurable data of experiential phenomena must be different from those of validating premises of cause and effect with measurable phenomena. So if this is what is meant by your question, the answer is no, that gap will not be closed.

      However, what is surprisingly absent from most of these discussions is that premises and knowledge themselves are experiential phenomena. No one can measure knowledge itself. Furthermore, even the most rigorous instrument-based empirical science only matters when people know it and know how to use it. In other words, acquiring knowledge of empirical science is an experiential phenomenon. From this perspective, there is not and never has been a true gap between them.

      Finding ways to validate knowledge is essential because premises are equally capable of being erroneous as they are accurate. The primary way we validate knowledge (and all experiential premises) is through utility or efficacy. Can we use the specific premise in predictable ways to achieve an objective or not? This question applies to both measurable and unmeasurable phenomena, though the methods of answering it are different.

      There are other very interesting questions about the relationship between measurable, empirical phenomena and experiential phenomena. We know there is a bidirectional flow of information and influence. For example, in perception, our physical senses acquire measurable data, and this material data must be converted to experiential knowledge. In response, some kind of decision must be made with the agenda (goal) of responding. This agenda creates a compulsion to act (both of which are also experiential), and this compulsion must be converted to some material action in the body. In this way, there is also no gap between the material and experiential, and never has been.

      1. Sudhir K Avatar

        Thank you, Tony, for your thoughtful response. I agree that experiential phenomena and instrument-based empirical science require different ways of validation, and that this difference is not going away.

        I also agree that reality and its laws may not depend on being known. At the same time, learning, interpreting, and using scientific knowledge is an experiential process. In cases like Tukdam, still seems important to keep track of which kind of claim we are making at each step, and which kind of validation applies.

        In the Tukdam context, by “experiential” I was thinking about reports and descriptions from the person and their training before death, and then a tradition-based understanding of what may be happening during the dying process and after death, along with outside observation of the body.

        Science may eventually explain how delayed body decay happens in mechanistic terms, especially as models and instruments improve. But the traditional explanation is answering a different kind of question – not how the process works, but why it happened in the context of the person and their practice.

        My question was whether this difference in the kinds of explanations being offered should be expected to remain in principle in cases like Tukdam, even as empirical understanding improves.

        1. Tony Budding Avatar
          Tony Budding

          Thanks Sudhir, if I understand you correctly, the question is whether we can include the qualities of first person experiences and their interpretations to inform scientific understanding of unusual cases like Tukdam. This question is also central to my work, so here is how I (for one) think about it.

          First, I used the term scientific understanding instead of empirical. First person experiences are unmeasurable so they cannot be empirical. However, we know that experiential phenomena influence empirical phenomena in some ways at some times, which brings up several questions, such as are these influences knowable?

          Assuming they are to some degree, one of the most important subsequent questions is about the differences between how experiential phenomena seem to be and what they are. To complicate matters, knowledge is perspectival, so our answers can change based on our perspective.

          For example, a wooden door seems to be solid in our experiences. And, it is truly solid in our experiences. Where, though, is the solidity in quantum mechanics? If there is no solidity in the door from the quantum perspective, does that invalidate the experiential perspective? Of course not. If we are replacing the front door of our home, the solidity of the wooden door is sufficient to accomplish our objectives for a new door.

          Perceptions are not just what they seem to be. If we look out a window and see a cat sitting in the yard, it seems like we see the cat directly. Of course, all we actually perceive are the patterns of visible light waves that hit our eyes through the window. We compare these patterns to our past experiences and recognize them as representing a cat sitting in a yard. We fill in the rest of the experience with aspects of our acquired knowledge of cats (and potentially this particular cat if we know it). So, do we actually see the cat or not? We do from an experiential perspective but not from an epistemological perspective. Both perspectives are valid within themselves.

          When someone dies, it seems like something leaves the body. Some people say this is the soul departing. Some say it’s consciousness or the life force that departs. Some say it’s simply a material process similar to how an old car finally stops functioning entirely. Are all of these perspectives valid also? And most importantly, how can we know?

          I have a lot of experience with Eastern metaphysical traditions, which both share many elements and disagree about critical elements. One of the disagreements is about the ultimate nature of consciousness (including what phenomena that term is supposed to reference). Are they all valid from their own perspective? If not, are any of them valid? And most importantly, how can we know?

          There is a growing field that studies NDEs (near death experiences). They are finding certain similarities that seem to point to certain conclusions. We can ask, are these similarities speaking to realities of the soul or spirit or consciousness, are they due to similar neurological processes that happen as the brain approaches death, or something else entirely?

          These are very difficult questions to answer. One of the main reasons I keep coming to this site is because from what I can tell, Mike et al are doing impressive work approaching these questions from a Western scientific perspective.

          FWIW, I take a purely epistemological approach based ultimately on the advanced meditation techniques that lead to the complete absence of content in the mind. The implications of awareness utterly devoid of content combined with the models and methods of how to achieve it tell us a tremendous amount about content, awareness and determined efforts or will. Metaphorically, this is like the quantum approach to solidity and its qualified relevance to daily life.

          So, my answer to your question is a qualified yes. The kinds of explanations offered by both specific experiences and the traditions that contextualize them can be relevant, though we need to parse how they seem to be from what they are, potentially from multiple perspectives.

  11. Wonny Tjon Avatar
    Wonny Tjon

    Thank you for this very interesting work.
    Dr. Thornton Streeter works on the biofield in India.
    It might or might not be a possibility to look at the biofield?

  12. Phil Markus Avatar
    Phil Markus

    This is so enlightening to read about.

  13. Merary Rodriguez Avatar
    Merary Rodriguez

    What defines the collapse curve of agency?

  14. Jacob Wiener Avatar
    Jacob Wiener

    Very interesting talk!

    I was wondering if anyone has thoughts about what the experience would be like for a smaller part of a larger system throughout the development of the larger system? What would it be like to be a part of a system which is on its way in as opposed to on its way out? To what extent would these changes in global organization appear in the local environment of the smaller part?

    1. Mike Levin Avatar
      Mike Levin

      I think about this all the time, in terms of embryonic blastomeres becoming “an embryo” and having their option space bent. We’re working on characterizing that aspect quantitatively.

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