The Secret of Shambhala: In Search of the Eleventh Insight (6 page)

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A
s soon as I walked down and entered the monastery, I knew something was abuzz. The monks were all scurrying about and whispering
to one another.

I walked down a hallway and into my own room, planning on asking Jampa for the use of a phone. My mood was better, but I was
again questioning my own sense of self-preservation. I was being drawn further into what was happening here, instead of trying
to get out of this country. Who knew what the Chinese might do if I was caught? Did they know my name? It might even be too
late to leave by air.

I was about to get up and look for Jampa when he burst into the room.

“The Lama has agreed to see you,” he said. “This is a great honor. Don’t worry, he speaks perfect English.”

I nodded, feeling a little nervous.

Jampa was standing at the door looking expectant.

“I am to escort you—now,” he said.

I got up and followed as Jampa led me through a very large room with high ceilings and into a smaller room on the other side.
Five or six monks, holding prayer wheels and white scarves, watched with anticipation as we walked up toward the front and
sat down. Yin waved from the far corner.

“This is the greeting room,” Jampa said.

The interior of the room was wooden and painted a light blue. Handcrafted murals and mandalas adorned the walls. We waited
for a few minutes and then the Lama entered. He was taller than most of the other monks, but was dressed in a red robe, exactly
like the ones they wore. After looking at everyone in the room very deliberately, he summoned Jampa forward. They touched
foreheads, and he whispered something in Jampa’s ear.

Jampa immediately turned and gestured to all the other monks to follow him out of the room. Yin, too, began to leave, but
as he did, he glanced at me and nodded slightly, a gesture I took as support for my impending conversation. Many of the monks
handed me their scarves and nodded excitedly.

When the room was empty, the Lama motioned for me to come forward and sit in a tiny straight-back chair to his right. I bowed
slightly as I came up and sat down.

“Thank you for seeing me,” I said.

He nodded and smiled, looking me over for a long time.

“Could I ask you about my friend Wilson James?” I finally inquired. “Do you know where he is?”

“What is your understanding of Shambhala?” the Lama asked in return.

“I guess I’ve always thought of it as an imaginary place, a fantasy. You know, like Shangri-La.”

He cocked his head and replied matter-of-factly, “It is a real place on Earth that exists as part of the human community.”

“Why has no one ever discovered where it is? And why do so many prominent Buddhists speak of Shambhala as a way of life, a
mentality?”

“Because Shambhala does represent a way of being and living. It can be spoken of accurately in that manner. But it is also
an actual location where real people have achieved this way of being in community with each other.”

“Have you been there?”

“No, no, I have not yet been called.”

“Then how can you be so sure?”

“Because I have dreamed of Shambhala many times, as have many other adepts on the Earth. We compare our dreams and they are
so similar we know this must be a real place. And we hold the sacred knowledge, the legends, that explain our relationship
to this sacred community.”

“What is that relationship?”

“We are to preserve the knowledge while we are waiting for the time when Shambhala will come out and make itself known to
all peoples.”

“Yin told me that some believe that the warriors of Shambhala will eventually arrive to defeat the Chinese.”

“Yin’s anger is very dangerous for him.”

“He’s wrong, then?”

“He is speaking from the human viewpoint that sees defeat in terms of war and physical fighting. Exactly how this prophecy
will come true is still unknown. We will have to first understand Shambhala. But we know that this will be a different kind
of battle.”

I found the last statement cryptic, but his manner was so compassionate that I felt awe rather than confusion.

“We believe,” Lama Rigden continued, “that the time when the way of Shambhala shall be known in the world is very close.”

“Lama, how do you know this?”

“Again, because of our dreams. Your friend Wil has been here, as you undoubtedly have already heard. This we took as a great
sign because we had earlier dreamed of him. He has smelled the fragrance and heard the utterance.”

I was taken aback. “What kind of fragrance?”

He smiled. “The one you yourself smelled earlier today.”

Now everything made sense. The way the monks had reacted and the Lama’s decision to see me.

“You are also being called,” he added. “The sending of the fragrance is a rare thing. I have seen it occur only twice—once
when I was with my teacher, and again when your friend Wil was here. Now it has happened again with you. I had not known whether
to see you or not. It is very dangerous to speak of these things trivially. Have you also heard the cry?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t understand what that is.”

“It is also a call from Shambhala. Just keep listening for a special sound. When you hear it, you will know what it is.”

“Lama, I’m not sure I want to go anywhere. It seems very dangerous here for me. The Chinese seem to know who I am. I think
I want to go back to the United States as soon as possible. Can you just tell me where I might find Wil? Is he somewhere close?”

The Lama shook his head, looking very sad. “No, I’m afraid he has committed to go on.”

I was silent, and for a long moment the Lama just looked at me.

“There is something else you must know,” he said. “It is very clear from the dreams that without you, Wil could not survive
this attempt. For him to succeed, you will have to be there as well.”

A wave of fear ran through me, and I looked away. This was not what I wanted to hear.

“The legends say,” the Lama went on, “that in Shambhala each generation has a certain destiny that is publicly known and talked
about. The same is true in human cultures outside of Shambhala. Sometimes great strength and clarity can be gained by looking
at the courage and intent of the generation that came before us.”

I wondered where he was going with this.

“Is your father alive?” he asked.

I shook my head. “He died a couple of years ago.”

“Did he serve in the great war of the 1940s?”

“Yes,” I replied, “he did.”

“Was he in the fighting?”

“Yes, during most of the war.”

“Did he tell you of his most fearful situation?”

His question took me back to discussions with my father during my youth. I thought for a moment.

“Probably the landing in Normandy in 1944 at Omaha Beach.”

“Ah, yes,” the Lama said. “I’ve seen your American movies about this landing. Have you seen them?”

“Yes, I have,” I said. “They moved me very much.”

“They told of the soldiers’ fear and courage,” he went on.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you could have done such things?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see how they did it.”

“Perhaps it was easier for them because it was the calling for a whole generation. On some level they all sensed it: the ones
who fought, the ones who made the arms, the ones who provided the food. They saved the world at the time of its greatest peril.”

He waited as though he expected me to ask a question, but I just looked at him.

“The calling of your generation is different,” he said. “You, too, must save the world. But you must do so in a different
way. You must understand that inside you is a great power that can be cultivated and extended, a mental energy that has always
been called prayer.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said. “But I guess I still don’t know how to use it.”

To this he smiled and stood up, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes,” he said. “I know. But you will, you will.”

* * *

I
lay down on the cot in my room and thought about what the Lama had told me. He had ended the conversation abruptly, waving
off my remaining questions.

“Go and rest now,” he had said, calling in several monks by ringing a loud bell. “We will talk again tomorrow.”

Later both Jampa and Yin had made me recount everything the Lama had said. But the truth was that the Lama had left me with
more questions than answers. I still did not know where Wil had gone or what the call of Shambhala really meant. It all sounded
fanciful and dangerous.

Yin and Jampa had refused to discuss any of these questions. We had spent the rest of the evening eating and looking out at
the landscape before going to bed early. Now I found myself staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, thoughts whirling
in my head.

I replayed my whole experience in Tibet in my mind several times and then finally drifted into a fitful sleep. I dreamed of
running through the crowds of Lhasa, seeking sanctuary at one of the monasteries. The monks at the door took one look at me
and shut the door. Soldiers pursued. I ran down dark lanes and alleyways without hope until, at the end of one street, I looked
to my right and saw a lighted area similar to the ones I had seen before. As I moved closer, the light gradually disappeared,
but ahead of me was a gate. The soldiers were coming around the corner behind me, and I dashed through the gate and found
myself in an icy landscape…

I woke up with a start. Where was I? Slowly I recognized the room and got to my feet and walked to the window. Dawn was just
breaking toward the east, and I tried to shake off the dream and go back to bed, an idea that proved to be totally fruitless.
I was wide awake.

Pulling on a pair of pants and a jacket, I walked downstairs and outside to the courtyard by the vegetable gardens and sat
down on an ornate metal bench. As I stared out toward the sunrise, I heard something behind me. Turning, I saw the figure
of a man moving toward me from the monastery. It was Lama Rigden.

I stood up and he bowed deeply.

“You are up early,” he said. “I hope you slept well.”

“Yes,” I said, watching him as he walked forward and sprinkled a handful of grain in the fountain pond for the fish. The water
swirled as they consumed the food.

“What were your dreams?” he said without looking at me.

I told him about the chase and seeing the lighted area. He looked at me in amazement.

“Have you had this experience in your waking life as well?” he asked.

“Several times on this trip,” I said. “Lama, what is going on?”

He smiled and sat on a bench opposite me. “You are being helped by the dakini.”

“I don’t understand. What are the dakini? Wil left Yin a note in which he referred to the dakini, but I’d never heard of them
before that.”

“They are from the spiritual world. They usually appear as females, but they can take any form they wish. In the West they
are known as angels, but they are even more mysterious than most think. I’m afraid they are truly known only by those in Shambhala.
The legends say that they move with the light of Shambhala.”

He paused and looked at me deeply. “Have you decided whether to answer this call?”

“I wouldn’t know how to proceed,” I said.

“The legends will guide you. They say that the time for Shambhala to be known will be recognized because many people will
begin to understand how those in Shambhala live, the truth behind the prayer-energy. Prayer is not a power that is realized
only when we sit down and decide to pray in a particular situation. Prayer works at these times, of course, but prayer is
also working at other times.”

“You’re talking about a constant prayer-field?”

“Yes. Everything we expect, good or bad, conscious or unconscious, we are helping to bring into being. Our prayer is an energy
or power that emanates out from us in all directions. In most people, who think in ordinary ways, this power is very weak
and contradictory. But in others, who seem to achieve a lot in life, and who are very creative and successful, this field
of energy is strong, although it is still usually unconscious. Most of those in this group have a strong field because they
grew up in an environment where they learned to expect success and more or less take it for granted. They had strong role
models whom they emulated. But the legends say that soon all people will learn about this power and understand that our ability
to use this energy can be strengthened and extended.

“I have told you this to explain how to answer the call of Shambhala. To find this holy place, you must systematically extend
your energy until you emanate enough creative strength to go there. The procedure for doing this is set forth in the legends
and involves three important steps. There is also a fourth step, but it is known in its completeness only to those in Shambhala.
That is why finding Shambhala is so difficult. Even if one successfully extends one’s energy though the first three steps,
one must have help in order to actually find the way to Shambhala. The dakini must open the gateway.”

“You called the dakini spiritual beings. Do you mean souls that are in the afterlife who are acting as guides for us?”

“No, the dakini are other beings who act to awaken and guard humans. They are not and never were human.”

“And they are the same as angels?”

The Lama smiled. “They are what they are. One reality. Each religion has a different name for them, just as each religion
has a different way of describing God and how humans should live. But in every religion the experience of God, the energy
of love, is exactly the same. Each religion has its own history of this relationship and way of speaking about it, but there
is only one divine source. It is the same with angels.”

“So you aren’t strictly Buddhist?”

“Our sect and the legends we hold have their roots in Buddhism, but we stand for the synthesis of all religions. We believe
each has its truth that must be incorporated with all the others. It is possible to do this without losing the sovereignty
or basic truth of one’s own traditional way. I would also call myself a Christian, for instance, and a Jew or a Muslim. We
believe those in Shambhala also work for an integration of all religious truth. They work for this in the same spirit that
the Dalai Lama makes the Kalachakra initiations known to anyone who has a sincere heart.”