Secret of Shambhala

by James Redfield

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 l
ooking 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.”

  I just looked at him, trying to take it all in.

  “Don’t try to understand everything now,” the Lama said. “Just know that the integration of all religious truth is important if the force of prayer-energy is to grow large enough to resolve the dangers posed by those who fear. Also remember that the dakini are real.”

  “What makes them act to help us?” I asked.

  The Lama took a deep breath, thinking deeply. The question seemed to be a point of frustration for him.

  “I have worked my whole life to understand this question,” he said finally, “but I must admit that I do not know. I think that it is the great secret of Shambhala and will not be understood until Shambhala is understood.”

  “But you think,” I interjected, “that the dakini are helping me?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly. “And your friend Wil.”

  “What about Yin? How does he figure in all this?”

  “Yin met your friend Wil at this monastery. Yin has also dreamed of you, but in a different context from myself or the other lamas. Yin was educated in England and is very familiar with Western ways. He is to be your guide, although he is very reluctant, as you have no doubt seen. This is only because he does not want to let anyone down. He will be your guide and take you as far as he can go.”

  He paused again and looked at me expectantly.

  “And what about the Chinese government?” I asked. “What are they doing? Why are they so interested in what is happening?”

  The Lama lowered his eyes. “I do not know. They seem to sense that something is happening with Shambhala. They have always tried to suppress Tibetan spirituality, but now they seem to have discovered our sect. You must be very careful. They fear us greatly.”

  I looked away for a moment, still thinking about the Chinese.

  “Have you decided?” he asked.

  “You mean whether to go?”

  He smiled compassionately. “Yes.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I have the courage to risk losing everything.”

  The Lama just kept looking at me and nodded.

  “You said some things about the challenge of my generation,” I said. “I still don’t understand this.”

  “World War II, as well as the cold war,” the Lama began, “was the previous generation’s challenge to face. The great advances in technology had placed massive weapons in the hands of nations. In their nationalistic fervor, the forces of totalitarianism were attempting to conquer the democratic countries. This threat would have prevailed had not ordinary citizens fought and died in defense of freedom, ensuring the success of democracy in the world.

  “But your task is different from that of your parents. The mission of your generation is different in its very nature from that of the World War II generation. They had to fight a particular tyranny with violence and arms. You must fight against the concepts of war and enemies altogether. But it takes just as much heroism. Do you understand? There was no way your parents could have done what they did, but they persevered. So must you. The forces of totalitarianism have not gone away; they are just not expressing themselves any longer through nations seeking empire. The forces of tyranny now are international and much more subtle, taking advantage of our dependence on technology and credit and a desire for convenience. Out of fear, they seek to centralize all technological growth into the hands of a few, so that their economic positions can be safeguarded and the future evolution of the world controlled.

  “Opposing them with force is impossible. Democracy must be guarded now with the next step in freedom’s evolution. We must use the power of our vision, and the expectations that flow out from us, as a constant prayer. This power is stronger than anyone now knows, and we must master it and begin to use it before it is too late. There are signs that something is changing in Shambhala. It is opening, shifting.”

  The Lama was looking at me with steely determination. “You must answer the call to Shambhala. It is the only way to honor what your forefathers have done befo
re you.”

  His comment filled me with anxiety.

  “What do I do first?” I asked.

  “Complete the extensions of your energy,” the Lama replied. “This will not be easy for you because of your fear and anger. But if you persist, the gateway will present itself to you.”

  “The gateway?”

  “Yes. Our legends say that there are several gateways into Shambhala: one in the eastern Himalayas in India, one to the northwest on the border of China, and one in the far north in Russia. The signs will guide you to the right one. When all seems lost, look for the dakini.”

  As the Lama was talking, Yin walked outside with our packs.

  “Okay,” I said, feeling increasingly terrified. “I’ll try.” Even as I spoke, I couldn’t believe the words were coming from my mouth.

  “Don’t worry,” Lama Rigden said. “Yin will help you. Just remember that before you can find Shambhala, you must first extend the level of energy that emanates from you and goes out into the world. You can’t have success until you do. You must master the force of your expectations.”

  I looked at Yin and he half smiled.

  “It’s time.” he said.

  3

  CULTIVATING ENERGY

  We walked outside, and I noticed a brown, hardtop Jeep, perhaps ten years old, sitting beside the road. As we walked closer, I could tell it was filled with ice chests, boxes of dried food, sleeping bags, and heavier jackets. Several external gas tanks were strapped to the rear.

  “Where did all this stuff come from?” I asked.

  He winked at me. “We have been preparing for this journey for a long time.”

  From Lama Rigden’s monastery, Yin headed north for a few miles and then turned the Jeep from the wide gravel road onto a narrow tract, barely wider than a foot path. We continued driving for several miles without saying anything.

  The truth was, I didn’t know what to say. I had agreed to go on this journey purely because of the Lama’s words and because of what Wil had done for me in the past, but now the angst over the decision was beginning to set in. I tried to shake off the fear and to retrace in my mind all that Lama Rigden had told me. What did he mean by mastering the force of my expectations?