The Secret of Shambhala: In Search of the Eleventh Insight (16 page)

We were now traveling along a snow-covered dirt road, circling ever higher into the mountains. As the truck bounced along,
we turned a corner and reached an overlook where we could see the place where Yin and I had said good-bye. I asked the driver
to slow the truck so I could see.

To my horror, the whole area below was filled with military vehicles and soldiers.

“Wait a minute,” I said to the driver. “Yin may need help. We have to stop.”

The old man shook his head. “Must go! Must go!”

He and his son talked excitedly in Tibetan, occasionally looking at me, as though they knew something I didn’t. He sped up
the truck and we traveled through a pass and started down through the mountains.

A pang of fear erupted in my stomach. I was torn about what to do. What if Yin had escaped and needed me? On the other hand,
I thought I knew what Yin would have wanted. He would have insisted that I go on. I tried to keep my energy up, but part of
me wondered if all the talk about gateways and Shambhala might turn out to be just a myth. And even if it was true, why would
I be allowed to enter and not someone else, like Jampa or Lama Rigden? Nothing made sense.

I shrugged off those thoughts and tried to keep my energy high, gazing out at the snow-covered peaks. I watched closely as
we traveled through several small towns, including Dormar. Finally after eating a lunch of cold soup and dried tomatoes, I
fell asleep for a long time. When I awoke, it was late afternoon and large snowflakes were falling again, soon covering the
road with a fresh coating of whiteness. As we continued to travel, the terrain grew ever more mountainous and I could tell
the air was growing thinner. Approaching in the distance was yet another tall range of mountains.

That must be the Kunlun range, I thought, the one Yin had mentioned. Part of me continued to disbelieve that all this was
happening. But another knew it was, and that I was alone now, facing the monolithic Chinese presence, with all its soldiers
and atheistic skepticism.

From behind us, I heard the low drone of a helicopter. My heart began to pound, but I kept my alertness.

The herdsman seemed oblivious to the threat and drove on for another thirty minutes, then smiled and pointed up ahead. Through
the falling snow I could see the darker outlines of a large stone structure sitting atop one of the first ridges. Several
walls on the left side were collapsed. Behind the monastery rose huge spires of snow-covered rock. The monastery was three
or four stories tall, even though its roof had long since rotted away, and I looked closely for a moment for any sign of people
or movement. I saw nothing. It seemed to have been completely abandoned for a long time.

At the base of the mountain, five hundred feet below the monastery, the truck stopped and the man pointed up toward the ruined
structure. I hesitated, looking out at the blowing snow. He gestured again, urging me on with his excited expression.

I grabbed the pack Yin had prepared for me from the back of the truck. I started up the hill. The temperature was growing
slightly colder, but I hoped that with the tent and sleeping bag, I would not freeze to death. But what about the soldiers?
I watched the truck move out of sight and listened carefully, hearing nothing but the wind.

I looked around and found a rock stairway up the hill and started to climb. After about two hundred feet I stopped and looked
back toward the south. From here I could see nothing but white mountains for miles.

As I approached the monastery, I could now see that it actually wasn’t on a hill of its own but stood on a large precipice
extending out from the mountain behind it. The path led right to the opening that was once a large door, and I carefully walked
in. Large, hued stones lay scattered around the dirt floor, and I was facing a long hallway that ran the length of the structure.

I walked down the hall past several rooms that opened up on both sides of me. Finally I came to a larger room that had a doorway
to the back side of the monastery. In fact, half its rear wall had collapsed, and more stones, some of them as big as tables,
lay on the ground outside.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a movement near the collapsed wall. I froze. What was that? Cautiously, I walked to the
opening and looked outside in all directions. It was about a hundred feet from the door to the sheer rock face of the mountain.
No one seemed to be around.

As I continued to look, I saw another vague movement, also out of the corner of my eye. This time it was farther away, near
the base of the mountain face. A chill ran through me. What was going on? What was I seeing? I thought about grabbing my pack
and running back down the hill, but I decided against it. I was definitely frightened, but my energy was remaining strong.

I focused as best I could through the falling snow and headed for the cliffs where I thought I had seen the movement. When
I arrived, I could find nothing. The cliff walls were laced with vertical crevices, including one very large one that at first
looked like a narrow cave. On closer inspection, I saw it was only several feet deep, too shallow for anyone to hide, and
filled with snow. I looked around for footprints, and although the snow was ten or twelve inches thick, I could find none
but my own.

The snow was falling much harder now, so I walked back to the monastery and found a corner of the room that still had an overhang
of stone in place that protected me from the snow and wind. A pang of hunger hit me, and I crunched some carrots as I broke
out the small gas stove and heated some freeze-dried vegetable soup Yin had placed in my pack.

As it was simmering, I thought about what was happening. There was only an hour left until dark, and I had no idea why I was
up here. I looked through my pack and found no flashlight of any kind. Why hadn’t Yin packed one? The gas in the stove wouldn’t
last through the night; I had to find some firewood or yak dung.

My mind was already playing tricks on me, I thought. What might happen if I had to spend the entire night up here in total
darkness? What if these old walls began to fall in the wind?

As soon as I had that thought, I heard a crumbling sound at the far end of the monastery. I walked out to the hall, and just
as I looked, I saw a huge stone crash to the ground.

“Jesus,” I said aloud. “I have to get out of here.”

I turned off the stove and grabbed the other gear and ran out the back into the blowing snow. I quickly realized I would have
to find shelter, so I ran back to the mountain cliffs, hoping I had missed a crevice or overhang large enough to camp in.

When I reached the cliffs, I searched in vain for an opening. None of the crevices were deep enough. The wind howled. At one
point a huge clump of snow fell from one of the rocks and landed at my feet. I looked up at the tons of accumulating snow
that was lining the sides of the mountain above me. What if there was an avalanche here? In my mind’s eye I could see the
snow rolling down the mountain.

Again, as soon as I had that thought, I heard a rumbling sound above me and to the right. I grabbed the gear and ran back
toward the monastery just as a thunderous roar filled the air and snow rolled down the mountainside fifty feet away. I ran
as fast as I could and collapsed into the snow halfway back to the monastery, terrified. Why was all this happening?

With that thought, a memory of Yin came to my mind. He was saying. “At these levels of energy, the effect of your expectations
is immediate. You will be tested.”

I sat up. Of course! This was the test. I wasn’t controlling my fear images. I ran back to the old monastery and ducked inside.
The temperature was falling rapidly, and I knew I had to risk staying inside. Setting my gear down, I spent several minutes
imaging the stones staying in place.

A shiver of cold ran through me. Now, I thought, I have to do something about this cold. I pictured myself sitting beside
a warm fire. Fuel. I had to find some fuel.

I walked out to look over the rest of the monastery. I had only reached the hallway when I was stopped cold in my tracks.
I could smell smoke, the smoke of burning wood. Now what?

Slowly I walked down the hallway, looking in each room as I came to it, finding nothing. When there was only one room left,
I peered around the doorway. In the corner was a burning campfire and a store of wood.

I stepped in and looked around. No one was here. This room had another doorway leading outside, and more of a roof overhead.
It felt much warmer. But who built this fire? I walked to the outside opening and looked around at the snow. Still no tracks.
I was turning around, heading for the door, when in the half-light I saw a tall figure standing at the edge of the doorway.
I tried to focus on him directly, but I could see him only at the peripheral edges of my sight. I realized it was the same
man I had seen in the snow when Yin had pushed me from the Jeep. I tried to focus on him directly again and he vanished. The
hair on the back of my neck stood up and a chill went through me. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

Cautiously I walked through the doorway and peered down the hall in both directions, seeing nothing. I thought again about
fleeing the monastery and going down the mountain, but I knew the temperature was still falling fast and if I did I would
likely freeze to death. My only option was to go get my stuff and stay by this fire. So I retrieved my gear and returned,
peering nervously around every corner.

As I sat down, a gust of wind whipped the fire and blew ash everywhere, and I watched the flames for a moment as they caught
back up. I had imaged a fire and then it had manifested. But it was too much to believe that my field could be that strong.
There was only one explanation. I was being helped. The figure I saw was a dakini.

As eerie as it all was, that realization eased my mind, and I threw more wood on the fire and finished my soup, then unpacked
my sleeping bag. After a few minutes I lay down and fell into a deep sleep.

W
hen I awoke, I looked around wildly. The fire had died down and the first light of dawn was emerging outside. The snow was
falling just as hard as the night before. Something had awakened me. What?

I heard the dull drone of helicopters growing louder, heading toward me. Jumping to my feet, I gathered my things. In seconds
the helicopters were directly overhead, adding to the swirling wind.

Without warning, half the monastery began to crumble and fall inward, creating a storm of blinding dust. I felt my way out
the back opening and ran outside, abandoning my gear . The blizzard was still blowing horizontal snow, and I could only see
a few yards in front of me, but I knew if I continued to run in this direction, I would soon come to the mountain face I had
seen the day before.

I struggled on until I could see the rocky slope. It was directly in front of me about fifty feet away, but in the dawn light
I knew it shouldn’t be this visible. It was as if the mountain was bathed in a soft, slightly amber color, especially near
one of the large crevices I had seen before.

I stared a moment longer, knowing what it meant, then took off running toward the light as more of the monastery fell in behind
me. When I reached the cliff wall, the helicopters seemed to be directly overhead. What was left of the old monastery completely
crashed down behind me, shaking the ground and dislodging the snow in the crevice nearest to me, revealing a narrow opening.
It was a cave, after all!

I stumbled through the passageway and into total darkness, feeling my way ahead. I found the back wall and then another opening
that was less than five feet high. It bent to the right and I crawled through it, glimpsing the smallest ray of light ahead,
far in the distance. I struggled forward.

At one point I tripped over a large rock and fell headfirst onto the dirt and gravel floor, skinning my elbow and arm, but
the fading sound of the helicopters drove me onward. I shook off the pain and continued moving in the direction of the light.
After I had traveled several hundred feet, I could still see the tiny opening, but it seemed no closer. I continued on for
most of an hour, feeling my way toward the tiny illumination ahead of me.

Finally the light seemed to be getting closer, and as I got to within ten feet of it, I was abruptly met with a blast of warmer
air and the fragrance that I had smelled before at the monastery. In the distance somewhere I also heard a loud, melodious
human cry that reverberated though my body, bringing forth an inner warmth and euphoria. Was this the call Lama Rigden had
mentioned? The call of Shambhala.

I climbed up over the last remaining rock and stuck my head through the opening. Before me was an unbelievable sight. I was
facing a large, pastoral valley and clear blue sky. Beyond the valley were huge, snowcapped mountain peaks. All were strikingly
beautiful in the bright sunlight. The temperature was chilly but temperate, and green plants were growing everywhere. In front
of me the hill sloped gently down toward the valley floor.

As I walked through the opening and started down the hill, I felt overwhelmed by the energy of the place and began to have
trouble focusing. Lights and colors were swirling together and I felt myself slump to my knees. Out of control, I began to
roll down the hill. I rolled and rolled, almost as though I was half-asleep, losing all sense of time.

I
felt someone touching me, human hands wrapping me up and carrying me somewhere. I began to feel safe, even euphoric. After
a while, I smelled the sweet fragrance again, only now it was all-consuming, filling my consciousness.

“Try to open your eyes,” a female voice said.

As I struggled to focus, I was able to make out a figure of a large woman, perhaps six and a half feet tall. She was pushing
a cup toward my face.

“Here,” she said. “Drink this.”

I opened my mouth and took in a warm, tasty soup made from tomatoes, onions, and some kind of broccoli that was sweet. As
I drank, I realized my taste perception was enhanced. I could discern every flavor precisely. I drank most of the cup, and
within moments my head cleared and I could again focus on everything around me.