The Secret of Shambhala: In Search of the Eleventh Insight by James Redfield Read Free Book Online Page A

were working on and had placed them near me.
    I opened my eyes and looked, but there were no flowers close by. I felt for a breeze that might have blown the fragrance over
     toward me, but there was none stirring. I noticed the monks had dropped their tools and were staring intensely at me with
     wide eyes and their mouths half-open, as though they had seen something strange. Again I looked behind me, trying to figure
     out what was going on. Upon noticing that they had disturbed me, they quickly gathered up their tools and baskets and almost
     ran down the path toward the monastery. I followed them with my eyes for a moment, watching their red robes flip and sway
     as they glanced back at me to see if I was watching.
    * * *
    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