The Secret of Shambhala: In Search of the Eleventh Insight (4 page)

Yin looked toward the cars parked on the curb across the street from the man. His eyes stopped on an old brown sedan containing
several men in suits.

Yin said something to the taxi driver, who looked nervously at us in the rearview mirror and drove toward the next intersection.
As we drove on, Yin bent over so as not to be seen by the men in the car.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Yin ignored me, telling the driver to turn left and head farther into the center of the city.

I grabbed his arm. “Yin, tell me what’s going on. Who were those men?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But Wil would not be there. There is one other place I think he would go. Watch and see if we are
being followed.”

I looked behind us as Yin gave the taxi driver more instructions. Several cars came up behind us but then turned off. There
was no sign of the brown sedan.

“Do you see anyone back there?” Yin asked, turning to look for himself.

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

I was about to question Yin again about what was happening when I noticed that his hands were shaking. I took a good look
at his face. It was pale and covered with sweat. I realized that he was terrified. The sight sent a chill of fear through
my own body.

Before I could speak, Yin pointed out a parking place for the taxi driver and pushed me out of the car with my satchel, leading
me down a side street and then into a narrow alley. After walking a hundred feet or so, we leaned against the wall of a building
and waited for several minutes, our eyes glued to the entrance of the street we had just left. Neither of us spoke a word.

When it appeared as though we were not being followed, Yin proceeded down the alley to the next building and knocked several
times. There was no answer, but the lock on the door mysteriously opened from the inside.

“Wait here,” Yin said, opening the door. “I’ll be back.”

He moved silently into the building and shut the door. When I heard it lock, a wave of panic filled me. Now what? I thought.
Yin was scared. Was he abandoning me out here? I looked back down the alley toward the crowded street. This was exactly what
I had feared most. Someone seemed to be looking for Yin, and maybe Wil too. I had no idea what I might be getting involved
in.

Perhaps it would be best if Yin did vanish, I thought. That way I could run back to the street and hide among the crowds until
I found my way back to the airport. What else could I do then but go back home? I would be absolved of all responsibility
to look for Wil or do anything else on this misadventure.

The door suddenly opened, Yin slid out, and the door was quickly locked.

“Wil left a message,” Yin said. “Come on.”

We walked a bit farther down the alley and hid between two large trash bins as Yin opened an envelope and pulled out a note.
I watched him as he read. His face seemed to grow even whiter. When he finished, he held the note out toward me.

“What does it say?” I demanded, grabbing the paper. I recognized Wil’s handwriting as I read:

Yin, I’m convinced we are being allowed into Shambhala. But I must go on ahead. It is of utmost importance that you bring
our American friend as far as you can. You know the dakini will guide you.

Wil

I looked at Yin, who glanced at me for a moment and then looked away. “What does he mean, ‘allowed into Shambhala’? He means
that figuratively, right? He doesn’t think it’s a real place, does he?”

Yin was staring at the ground. “Of course Wil thinks it’s a real place,” he whispered.

“Do you?” I asked.

He looked away, appearing as though the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders.

“Yes… Yes…,” he said, “only it has been impossible for most people to ever conceive of this place, much less get there. Certainly
you and I cannot…” His voice trailed off into silence.

“Yin,” I said, “you have to tell me what’s going on. What is Wil doing? Who are these men we saw at the hotel?”

Yin stared at me for a moment and then said, “I think they are Chinese intelligence officers.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what they are doing here. Apparently they have been alerted by all the activity and talk about Shambhala. Many
of the lamas here realize that something is changing with this holy place. There has been much discussion.

“Changing how? Tell me.”

Yin took a deep breath. “I wanted to let Wil explain this… but I guess now I must try. You must understand what Shambhala
is. The people there are live human beings, born into this holy place, but they are of a higher evolutionary state. They help
hold energy and vision for the whole world.”

I looked away, thinking about the Tenth Insight. “They’re spiritual guides of some kind?”

“Not like you think,” Yin replied. “They aren’t like family members or other souls in the afterlife that might be helping
us from that dimension. They are human beings who live right here on this Earth. Those in Shambhala have an extraordinary
community and live at a higher level of development. They model what the rest of the world will ultimately achieve.”

“Where is this place?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know anyone who has seen it?”

“No. As a boy, I studied with a great lama, who declared one day that he was going to Shambhala, and after days of celebration,
he left.”

“Did he get there?”

“No one knows. He disappeared and was never seen again anywhere in Tibet.”

“Then no one really knows whether it exists or not.”

Yin was silent for a moment, then said, “We have the legends…”

“Who’s we?”

He stared at me. I could tell that he was restricted by some kind of code of silence. “I cannot tell you that. Only the head
of our sect, Lama Rigden, could choose to talk with you.”

“What are the legends?”

“I can only tell you this: The legends are the sayings left by those who have attempted to reach Shambhala in the past. They
are centuries old.”

Yin was about to say something else when a sound toward the street drew our attention. We watched closely but saw no one.

“Wait here,” Yin said.

Again Yin knocked on the door and disappeared inside. Just as quickly he emerged and walked over to an old, rusty Jeep with
a ragged canvas top. He opened the door and waved for me to get in.

“Come on,” he said. “We must hurry.”

A
s Yin began to drive out of Lhasa, I was silent, looking out at the mountains and wondering what Wil had meant by his note.
Why had he decided to go on alone? And who were the dakini? I was about to ask Yin when a Chinese military truck crossed at
the intersection in front of us.

The sight gave me a jolt, and I felt a wave of nervousness begin to fill my body. What was I doing? We had just seen intelligence
officers staking out the hotel where we were supposed to meet Wil. They might be looking for us.

“Wait a minute, Yin,” I said. “I want to go to an airport. All this seems too dangerous for me.”

Yin looked at me with alarm. “What about Wil?” he said. “You read the note. He needs you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s used to this kind of stuff. I’m not sure he would expect me to put myself in danger like this.”

“You are already in danger. We must get out of Lhasa.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To Lama Rigden’s monastery near Shigatse. It will be late when we get there.”

“Is there a phone there?” I asked.

“Yes,” Yin replied. “I believe so, if it’s working.”

I nodded and Yin turned back to concentrate on the road.

That’s fine, I thought. It wouldn’t hurt to get far away from here before making arrangements to get home.

For hours we bounced along on the badly paved highway, passing trucks and old cars along the way. The scenery was a mix of
ugly industrial developments and beautiful vistas. Well after dark, Yin pulled up into the yard of a small, concrete block
house. A big, woolly dog was tied to the side of a mechanic’s garage to the right, barking at us furiously.

“Is this Lama Rigden’s house?” I asked.

“No, of course not,” Yin said. “But I know the people here. We can pick up some food and gasoline that we might need later.
I’ll be right back.”

I watched as Yin walked up the board steps and knocked on the door. An older Tibetan woman came out and immediately pulled
Yin into a full embrace. Yin pointed at me, smiled, and said something I couldn’t understand. He waved for me, and I got out
and walked into the house.

A moment later we heard the faint squeaks of car brakes outside. Yin darted across the room and pulled back the curtains to
look. I stood right behind him. In the darkness, I could see a black unmarked car sitting on the side of the road across from
the rutted driveway, a hundred feet away.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Yin replied. “Go out and get our packs, quickly.”

I looked at him questioningly.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Go get them, but hurry.”

I walked out the door and over to the Jeep, trying not to look toward the car in the distance. I reached through the open
window and grabbed my satchel and Yin’s pack and then briskly walked back inside. Yin was still watching out the window.

“Oh my,” he said suddenly, “they’re coming.”

A blast of car lights lit the window as the car raced toward the house. Grabbing his pack from me with one hand, Yin led the
way out the back door and into the darkness.

“We must go this way,” Yin yelled back at me as he led me up a path into a group of rocky foothills. I glanced back down at
the house and, to my horror, saw plainclothes agents piling out of the car and encircling the residence. Another car we hadn’t
even seen sped around the side of the house, and several more men jumped out and began to run up the slope to our right. I
knew if we kept going in the direction we were going, they would cut us off in minutes.

“Yin, wait a minute,” I said in a loud whisper. “They’re heading us off.”

He stopped and put his face very close to mine in the darkness.

“To the left,” he said. “We’ll go around them.”

As he said that, I caught sight of the other agents running in that direction. If we followed Yin’s route, they would see
us for sure.

I looked straight up the most rugged part of the incline. Something caught my eye: A dim patch of the trail was perceptibly
lighter.

“No, we have to go straight up,” I said instinctively, and headed in that direction. Yin lagged behind me for an instant and
then hurriedly followed. We made our way up the rocks, with the agents closing in from the right.

At the top of a rise, an agent seemed to be right on top of us and we ducked between two large boulders. The area around us
was still perceptibly lighter. The man was no more than thirty feet away, moving around to where he would soon see us clearly.
Then, as he approached the edges of the slight glow, seconds from seeing us, he abruptly stopped, started to walk forward
again, then stopped again, as if suddenly having other ideas. Without taking another step, he turned and ran back down the
hill.

After a few moments I asked Yin in a whisper if he thought the agent had seen us.

“No,” Yin replied. “I do not think so. Come on.”

We climbed the hill for another ten minutes before stopping on a stony precipice to look back down at the house. We could
see more official-looking cars driving up. One was an older police car with a blinking red light. The scene filled me with
terror. No doubt about it now, these people were after us.

Yin was also looking anxiously toward the house, his hands again shaking.

“What are they going to do to your friend?” I asked, horrified at what he might say.

Yin looked at me with tears and fury in his eyes, then led the way farther up the hill.

W
e walked for several more hours, making our way by the light of a quarter-moon that was periodically obscured by clouds. I
wanted to ask about the legends Yin had mentioned, but he remained angry and sullen. At the top of the hill, Yin stopped and
announced that we must rest. As I sat down on a nearby rock, he walked off into the darkness a dozen feet or so and stood
with his back toward me.

“Why were you so sure,” he asked without turning around, “that we should climb straight up the hill back there?”

I took a breath. “I saw something,” I stammered. “The area was lighter somehow. It seemed the way to go.”

He turned and walked over and sat down on the ground across from me. “Have you seen such a thing before?”

I tried to shake away my anxiety. My heart was pounding and I could barely talk.

“Yeah, I have,” I said. “Several times recently.”

He looked away and was silent.

“Yin, do you know what is happening?”

“The legends would say we are being helped.”

“Helped by whom?”

Again he just looked away.

“Yin, tell me what you know about this.”

He did not respond.

“Is it the dakini that Wil mentioned in his note?”

Still no response.

I felt a rush of anger. “Yin! Tell me what you know.”

He stood up quickly and glared at me. “Some things we are forbidden to speak of. Don’t you understand? Just mentioning the
names of these beings frivolously can leave a man mute for years, or blind. They are the guardians of Shambhala.”

He stormed over to a flat rock, spread his jacket, and lay down.

I felt exhausted too, unable to think.

“We must sleep,” Yin said. “Please, you will know more tomorrow.”

I looked at him for a moment longer, then lay down on the rock where I was sitting and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

I
was awakened by a shaft of light rising between two snowy peaks in the distance. Looking around, I realized that Yin was
gone. I jumped up and searched the immediate area, my body aching all over. Yin was nowhere I could see.

Damn, I thought. I had no way of knowing where I was. A deep wave of anxiety rushed through me. I waited for thirty minutes,
looking out at the brown, rocky hills with little valleys of green grass, and still he had not returned. Then I stood up again
and noticed for the first time that down the slope about four hundred feet was a gravel road. I grabbed my satchel and walked
down through the rocks until I reached the road and then headed north. As best I could remember, that was the direction back
toward Lhasa.