The Bardo State
The Bardo State
The Bardo State
In Buddhist philosophy, there’s a liminal space in time called the Bardo State.
Literally, it’s the gap between the death of one life and the incarnation of another. More broadly, it’s what we experience during any major transition—a space between two worlds, where nothing feels certain or solid. For example; a woman getting married, becoming a mother, and/or launching her children.
Bridging this gap isn’t easy. It asks us to live in ambiguity, uncertainty, and vulnerability, often when the stakes feel high. We must trust. We must learn to sit in discomfort, find humility in the face of the unknown, and gather courage from the most fragile of places. It’s a bit like being stuck in rush-hour traffic: obligations and desires clash, meaning feels slippery, purpose gets questioned. We fight our demons—or sometimes just distract ourselves with podcasts. Either way, we have to stay present if we want to keep moving forward without falling apart.
This idea of the Bardo has shown up repeatedly on our journey. We felt it strongly when we were traveling from Panama to Colombia—not knowing when we’d get our home on wheels back or what condition it would be in when we did. Even after retrieving our rig intact, a list of mechanical issues loomed over us, threatening to compromise the rest of our South American travels and our dream of driving to “the end of the world.”
Bridging the Gap
The Bardo State wasn’t new to us. Before we even started this adventure, the uncertainty was already there. We had no idea what kind of world we were leaving behind—or what we’d find on the road—because everything hinged on the completion of our camper. Deadlines shifted constantly, leaving us suspended between anticipation and doubt. At one point, we feared the camper company would go bankrupt before finishing our build, taking a large investment and our dream with it. Thankfully, we dodged that outcome—but others after us weren’t so lucky, losing their time, money, hopes, and plans when the company finally went under.
This most recent stretch reminded us that we’re never truly in the Bardo alone. At every turn, the right people appeared at the right time. The overlanding community proved generous, resourceful, and quick to lend a hand, turning a “Wild West” experience into something survivable. And of course, there’s us: Karl, Oz, and me, leaning on each other as we navigate the unknowns.
Between Panama and Colombia, between broken parts and quick fixes, between the dream and the destination, we’ve bridged a lot of gaps. We’ve learned to trust, to sit with uncertainty, and to keep moving even when the ground beneath us feels unstable.
Now, fingers crossed, we keep driving—bridging the last gap between home and the end of the world.
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