The Secret of Shambhala: In Search of the Eleventh Insight (22 page)

Tashi turned and looked at me. “We’ll have to slide down it. There’s no way around.”

“That’s too dangerous,” I protested. “There might be rocks just under the snow. If we start sliding out of control, we could
be hurt.” My energy was plummeting.

Tashi smiled nervously. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay to be afraid. Just maintain your visualization of a positive outcome.
Fear will actually bring the dakini closer.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “No one ever mentioned that before. What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you been helped mysteriously, inexplicably?”

“Yin told me Shambhala was helping me.”

“Well?”

“I don’t understand the relationship. I’ve been trying to find out what determines when the dakini help us.”

“Only those in the temples know that. I just know that fear always brings these guardians closer, if we can still maintain
our faith to some degree. It is hate that drives them away.”

Tashi pulled me forward off the ledge, and we began to slide in the loose snow uncontrollably. My foot hit a rock and flipped
me over, and I began rolling head over heels. I knew if my head hit another rock, it could be all over. But in spite of the
fear, I managed to hold a vision of landing safely.

With that thought, a particular feeling began to come over me, and I was filled with a sense of peace and well-being. The
terror subsided. Moments later I hit the bottom of the drop-off and rolled to a stop. Tashi slammed into my back. I lay for
a moment with my eyes closed. I opened them slowly, remembering other dangerous situations in my life when an inexplicable
peace had come over me.

Tashi was pulling himself out of the snowbank, and I smiled over at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Someone was here.”

Tashi stood up and shook the snow off his clothes and began to walk on. “You see what happens when you stay positive? Whatever
temporary strength comes from anger cannot compare with this mystery.”

I nodded, hoping I could remember that.

F
or two hours we made our way across the valley floor, crossing the frozen river and working our way up the gradual slope to
the base of the steep mountains. The snow was beginning to fall harder.

Suddenly Tashi stopped.

“Something moved up ahead,” he said.

I strained to see. “What was it?”

“It looked like a person. Come on.”

We proceeded up the slope of the mountain. Its peak looked to be about two thousand feet above us.

“There has to be a pass somewhere,” Tashi said. “We can’t go over the top.”

Ahead of us we heard the sound of sliding snow and rocks. Tashi and I glanced at each other and moved slowly around a series
of large outcroppings. As we made our way past the last one, we could see a man shaking himself out of the snow. He looked
exhausted. A bloody bandage was wrapped around one of his knees. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Wil.

“It’s okay,” I said to Tashi. “I know this man.” I stood up and crawled over the rocks.

Wil heard us and dived to the side, ready in spite of his leg to run down a narrow draw away from us.

“It’s me,” I called to him.

Wil stood up tall for a moment, then collapsed again in the snow. He was dressed in a thick white parka and insulated pants.

“It’s about time,” he said, smiling. “I was expecting you earlier.”

Tashi rushed over and looked at Wil’s leg. I introduced them. As quickly as I could, I explained to Wil everything that had
happened to me: meeting Yin, fleeing the Chinese, learning the extensions, getting through the gateway, and finally reaching
the rings of Shambhala.

“I didn’t know how to find you,” I added, pointing down to the valley. “Everything’s been ruined. It’s the effect of the Chinese.”

“I know,” Wil said. “I’ve already run into them myself.”

Wil went on to tell us about his experiences. Like me, he had extended his prayer-field the best he could and been allowed
into Shambhala. He’d been in another part of the rings, where he was educated further in the legends by another family.

“The temples are very difficult to reach,” Wil said. “Especially now with the Chinese soldiers coming. We must make sure we
are not engaging in negative prayer.”

“I don’t seem to be doing so well in that area,” I replied.

He looked at me sharply, concerned. “But that’s why you were with Yin. Didn’t he show you what can happen?”

“I think I understand how to avoid the general fear images. It’s my anger against the Chinese soldiers that keeps slipping
me up.”

Wil looked even more alarmed and was about to say something when we heard the sounds of helicopters closing in the distance.
We began our climb up the mountain, weaving our way through the rocks and deep snowbanks. Everything seemed to be very fragile
and unstable. We climbed for another twenty minutes without talking. The wind was increasing now, and the snow stung against
our faces.

Wil stopped and dropped to one knee.

“Listen,” he said. “What’s that?”

“It’s the helicopter again,” I said, fighting my irritation.

As we listened, the helicopter sliced through the overhanging clouds and began to fly straight toward us.

Limping slightly, Wil made his way farther up the icy slope, but I paused for an instant, hearing something else above the
noise of the helicopter. It sounded like a freight train.

“Look out!” Wil screamed from ahead of me. “It’s an avalanche.”

I tried to run out of the way, but it was too late. The full force of the rolling snow hit me in the face and knocked me backward
down the slope. I was tumbling and sliding, sometimes covered completely by the weight of the thundering avalanche, sometimes
riding on the surface of the moving mass.

After what seemed like forever, I felt myself come to a stop. I was packed in, unable to move, my body in a contorted position
under the snow. I tried to suck in a breath, but there was no air. I knew I was about to die.

But someone grabbed my outstretched right arm and began to dig me out. I could feel others digging around me, and finally
my head was free. I gasped for air, wiping the snow from my eyes, expecting to see Wil.

Instead I saw a dozen Chinese soldiers, one of them still holding my arm. In the background walking toward me was Colonel
Chang. Without talking, he signaled several of the other soldiers to take me to a hovering helicopter. A rope ladder was dropped,
and some of the soldiers swiftly climbed aboard, then threw down a harness, which was placed around me. The colonel gave the
order, and I was hauled aboard as he and the remaining soldiers climbed in. In minutes we were flying away.

I
stood looking out a porthole-sized window of a thirty-by-thirty-foot insulated tent. Altogether I could count at least seven
large tents and three small, portable trailers of a size that could be airlifted easily. A gasoline generator hummed at the
corner of the compound, and I could see several helicopters sitting in an area to the left. The snow had stopped falling but
had accumulated twelve or fourteen inches on the ground.

I strained to see to the right. From the lay of the mountain range in the background I concluded that I had been flown only
as far back as the center of the valley. A nighttime wind howled, flapping the outside seams of the tent.

When I had arrived, I had been fed, forced to take a lukewarm shower, and given warm Chinese fatigues and insulated underwear
to put on. At least I was finally warm.

I turned around and looked over at the armed Chinese guard sitting at the entrance. His eyes had been following my every move
with a cold, icy stare that chilled my soul. Fatigued, I walked over and sat down on one of two army cots in the corner. I
tried to assess my situation but I couldn’t think. I was numb, petrified, so fearful, in fact, that I knew I wasn’t very alert.
I couldn’t understand why I felt so incapacitated. It was a panic as intense as any I had ever experienced.

I tried to take a deep breath and build energy, but I couldn’t even get started. The bare lightbulbs hanging from the tent’s
ceiling filled the room with a dull, flickering light and ominous shadows. I could find no beauty anywhere around me.

The flap of the tent opened up and the soldier stood up at attention. Colonel Chang walked in and took off his thick parka,
nodding to the guard. He then focused on me. I looked away.

“We must talk,” he said, pulling a folding chair over and sitting four feet away. “I must have the answers to my questions.
Now.” He stared at me coldly for a moment. “Why are you here?”

I decided to answer as truthfully as I could. “I’m here studying Tibetan legend. I told you that.”

“You’re here looking for Shambhala.”

I was silent.

“Is that it?” he asked. “Is it in this valley?”

The fear churned in my stomach. What would he do if I refused to answer?

“Don’t you know?” I asked.

He smiled slightly. “I would guess that you and the rest of your illegal sect think this is Shambhala.” He looked puzzled,
as though remembering something else. “We’ve glimpsed other people here. But they have managed to elude us in the snow. Where
are they? Where did they go?”

“I don’t know.” I said. “I don’t even know where we are.”

He shifted toward me. “We have also found the remains of plants, recently alive. How is that possible? How could they have
grown here?”

I just stared.

He grinned coldly. “How much do you really know about the legends of Shambhala?”

“A little,” I stammered.

“I know a lot. Do you believe that? By now I’ve had access to all the ancient writings, and I must say they are delightfully
interesting, as mythology. Think about it: an ideal community made up of enlightened human beings that are far more advanced,
mentally, than any other culture on this planet.

“And I know the rest too—this idea that these individuals of Shambhala somehow have a secret power for good that permeates
all the rest of humanity and pushes them in that direction. Fascinating stuff, don’t you think? Ancient lore that could even
be appreciated, for that matter… if it weren’t so misleading and dangerous for the people of Tibet.

“Don’t you think if anything like that were real we would have discovered it by now? God, spirit, it’s all a childish dream.
Take the Tibetan mythology about the dakini, the idea that there are angel beings who can interact with us, help us.”

“What do you believe in?” I asked, trying to diffuse the situation.

He pointed to his head. “I believe in the powers of the mind. This is why you should talk to me, help us. We are most interested
in the idea of psychic power, the greater range of brain waves and their effect on electronics and people at a distance. But
don’t confuse this with spiritualism. The powers of mind are a natural phenomenon that can be researched and discovered scientifically.”

He ended his statement with an angry gesture with his hand, sending a deepening pang of fear through my stomach. I knew this
man was extremely dangerous and absolutely remorseless.

He was looking at me, but something attracted my attention along the wall of the tent behind him, directly across from the
door where the guard was standing. The area had suddenly gotten brighter. The lightbulb overhead flickered slightly, and I
dismissed my perception as a surge from the generator.

The colonel got up and walked a few steps toward me, looking more angry. “Do you think I like journeying out here into this
wasteland? How anyone survives out here is beyond me. But we are not leaving. We’re going to enlarge this camp until we have
enough troops to cover this whole area on foot. Whoever is here will be found and dealt with very harshly.”

He forced a half-smile. “But our friends will be equally rewarded. Do you understand?”

At this moment another wave of fear rushed through me, but it was different. It was a fear mixed with a great disdain. I was
beginning to loathe the extent of this man’s evil.

I glanced behind him to the area that seemed lighter, but it was now flat and filled with shadows. The lightness had disappeared,
and I felt totally alone.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “The Tibetan people have a right to their own religious beliefs. You’re trying to destroy
their culture. How can you do this?” I could feel my anger making me stronger.

My confrontation seemed only to energize him.

“Oh, you do have opinions,” he smirked. “Too bad they are so naive. You think what we are doing is unusual. Your own government
is developing ways to control you too. Chips that can be inserted into the body of troops and unsuspecting trouble-makers.

“And that’s not all.” He was almost shouting now. “We know now that when people think, a specific pattern of brain waves radiates
outward. Every government is working on machines that can identify these brain waves, especially angry or antigovernment sentiment.”

His statement chilled me. He was talking about the same misuse of brain wave amplification that Ani had warned me about, the
one that had doomed some early civilizations to ruin.

“Do you know why your so-called democratic governments are doing this?” he went on. “Because they are far more afraid of the
people then we are. Our citizens know the role of government is to govern. They know that certain liberties have to be limited.
Your people think there can be individual self-direction. Well, if that was true in the past, in a highly technical world
where a suitcase weapon can destroy a city, it cannot work any longer. With that kind of freedom, humans will not survive.
The direction, the values, of society must be controlled and directed for the greater good. That’s why this Shambhala legend
is so dangerous. It is based on absolute self-direction.”

As he talked, I thought I heard the door open behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I was focused totally on this man’s attitude.
Here was the worst of modern tyranny being voiced, and the more he talked the more my loathing increased.

“What you don’t see,” I said, “is that humans can find an inner motivation to create good in the world.”