Shambhala Read online

  For a few seconds, we were invaded by a disconcerting silence which was made worse by the limited space the car offered. I sensed that we were both thinking about the meaning of the words that the Lama had conveyed to Victor. It seemed like the seriousness of the matter could not be ignored.

  “And so......?” I said, dragging out the syllables.

  “In a few days, I’m going on a trip to Mongolia.”

  “Incredible! And what are you going to do there? Or rather, what are you expected to do?”

  “I’m going with a group, I won’t be going alone. I think we’re going to...I don’t know how to answer that, I don’t know what kind of work we’ll be doing. I imagine some in groups, others solo...what is clear to me is that to achieve peace on the planet, we have to start by finding it within ourselves, and later, learn to project it around us.

  While he talked and gestured, I watched him closely. He seemed happy, but there was some evidence that at the same time, he was scared. That trip imposed a resounding respect, and it was no wonder. This time he wouldn’t be guarding any fragments or ‘stone of power,’ but instead would be achieving inner balance, peace, calm, tranquility, and knowing how to spread that vibration to others—not an easy task, either.

  “I think you should come with me,” he exclaimed, shaking me out of my thoughts.

  “What? Where?” I asked, despite knowing exactly what he meant.

  “To Mongolia.”

  It was the third time he’d pronounced the name of that place, and nevertheless, for me it was the first time I managed to relate it to the message received by Ian.

  “Are you asking me to go with you and a group of people I don’t know, to Mongolia, to do some kind of spiritual initiation or something that you don’t even know what it is yet?” I suggested, narrowing my eyes.

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  My heart started beating wildly. I didn’t know what I could bring to that trip. I hadn’t had a past life regression or anything of the sort. That proposition didn’t fit. And to leave Ian and my father alone... No, I didn’t think I was strong enough to undertake this adventure.

  “I don’t think that’s for me,” I excused myself without really knowing what to think.

  “I’d like you to take your time and think about it. It’s important.”

  “I can’t leave my father and Ian, and go I don’t know how many miles to do I don’t know what, for I don’t know how long...” I answered hastily.

  “I see that this is affecting you,” he said thoughtfully.

  That stopped my self-conviction in its tracks.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, recovering my calm.

  “I mean there’s something in all of this that shakes you up inside. If it were really silly to you, you’d have said no and been perfectly calm about it. Instead, you’ve reacted strangely, nervously, you’re making arguments that don’t make sense...now I believe, more than ever, that you must come.”

  “But I don’t have anything to do with Buddhist temples,” I said, almost blubbering.

  “I’m not going to a Buddhist temple.”

  “But...”

  “I didn’t say that I’m going to be in a Buddhist temple,” he answered, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get to visit one or do a meditation practice with the monks, but that isn’t the objective. The objective is for a group of people to go to Mongolia, with a final destination specifically of the Gobi Desert, and once there, practice constant meditation and mental projection. In this way, we’ll begin to know what each of us really is and what we’re doing here. As we connect with our inner selves, it will be easier to control our energy and, therefore, remain unalterable in the face of external circumstances, that is, to learn inner peace.

  “Then, if all goes well, I don’t know what the others will do, but I would like to look for the mythical inner city of Shambhala.”

  “Shambhala?!” I exclaimed in wonder. Although I’d heard of it before, I didn’t know what it really meant. Even so, that name awakened something special in my heart, a mixture of joy and hope. Maybe something deeper, something like longing.

  “Yes. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “I barely know anything about it,” I answered honestly.

  “It’s said that the city of Shambhala was created by thirty-two extraterrestrial beings after the destruction of Atlantis, around the year 10500 B.C.E.” My heart almost stopped on hearing the words ‘extraterrestrial beings.’ I didn’t say anything and kept listening. “Each one of the thirty-two were representatives of diverse, advanced civilizations that already cohabited in the galaxy. All of them had united under an alliance called The Confederation of Worlds of the Galaxy. They had a single common goal: to establish a system of coexistence on our planet that already existed in the rest of the universe.

  “This group of sages gave rise to what is now known as the Great White Brotherhood.” He paused, giving me a chance to process the information. “Some think that one of the monasteries in the Gobi Desert is a gateway to that city. According to the story, it’s an energetic and esoteric enclave, one of the most important on Earth. This portal is like a kind of xendra—a dimensional door—which gives access to other realities and dimensions. That is to say, with the right training one could get in contact with beings from other worlds and other realities.

  “The Masters of the Great White Brotherhood continue guarding that place, and apparently, they aren’t the only protectors. One of the fragments of the Chintamani stone was there for a long time and who knows if it might have returned now.

  “The what stone?”

  “The Chintamani stone. The one I told you about before, that came from the stars, apparently from the Orion constellation and arriving here, released three fragments.”

  “But, how do you know so much about this?”

  “Well, you’re not going to believe it, but hey, I’ll tell you anyway. When the Lama convention ended Sunday, I came home a little dazed from the experience and from what I had been talking to the Lama about. He told me ‘In Gobi you will find answers.’ And of course that seemed like an invitation to look for a flight and go there, and little else...the fact is when I got home, I decided to search the internet. Instead of a plane ticket, I wanted to find some information about that place. I typed in ‘Gobi spirituality’ and got a few hits. I read an article that really got my attention. It talked about the Gobi Desert, the power stone of Chintamani and, in turn, about Nicholas Roerich.”

  I rolled my eyes so he would see that I didn’t know who this gentleman was and give me more details about him.

  “Okay, Nicholas Roerich was a pretty important man, though most people don’t know who he is. He was Russian and dedicated most of his life to investigating the secret of Shambhala. I read that between 1923 and 1928 he led an expedition through the Gobi Desert to the Altai Mountains, traveling almost ten thousand miles and crossing thirty-five of the highest mountain passages in the world. I’m convinced that on that trip, he was looking for more than landscapes to paint. I think he was looking for Shambhala.”

  “Why would you say ‘landscapes to paint’?” I didn’t get it.

  “Nicholas Roerich was a painter, as well as explorer, very famous in his time. Apparently he promoted the creation of several art schools and, due to his work, he became a very influential man. Various statesmen, in politics and religion, noticed him and welcomed him as an instructor and a source of inspiration due to his idealism and his perception of beauty. He knew the importance of protecting and preserving the art and culture of cities, as he believed that art and culture were the path to peace and unity. From there, and thanks to his influence in high society, in 1929, he launched an initiative, ‘The Pact and the Banner of Peace.’ The basis of this treaty was to protect culture and humanism above any border or geographical distinction; educational, artistic, scientific or religious institutions and buildings of recognized cultural or historic value, would be
protected and respected in times of war as well as in times of peace. All nations would honor that cultural heritage.

  “That agreement ended up being signed April 15, 1935, at the White House, by representatives of twenty-one countries throughout America—Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, the United States, Uruguay, and Venezuela—though later, with time, other countries joined in.” He paused. “Surely on some occasion you’ve seen the original peace flag.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nicholas Roerich drew a symbol for the Peace Treaty, that is, he invented the design for the flag. It was three red circles in a triangle, surrounded by an even larger circle with a white background.

  “I think that most people think that the peace symbol is one represented by the leg of a dove in the middle of a circle,” I replied, confused.

  “Yes. That’s why I told you.”

  He made an exaggerated movement throwing his body to the right to extract something from the left pocket of his pants. I saw he was taking out his cell phone. He unlocked the screen and began to move his index finger around the glass.

  “Here, look,” he said showing me his iPhone.

  “Oh, it isn’t anything like I thought.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I wanted to show you. This is the original peace flag.”

  “Does it have some specific meaning?”

  “I’m glad you asked me that question,” he said happily. “Yes, it has a meaning. Or several. The official version of the symbol is that the three inside circles represent art, science, and spirituality. The top one is spirituality, alluding to the truth that all religions have in common and which unite us; the other two circles represent art and science. The one that holds the other three corresponds to culture, that is, the communion between art, science and spirituality. Lastly, the deep red color symbolizes our blood, since, no matter where we’re from, we’re all the same.”

  “I really like its meaning,” I smiled hopefully.

  Victor returned my smile and then redirected his eyes to his phone, blocked it and deposited it in the glove compartment of the driver’s door.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “what does all this have to do with your trip to the Gobi Desert?”

  “It’s what I said before. Nicholas Roerich ventured into Central Asia with the excuse of painting the beauty of those places, but I think that was an excuse just to go there. He was known to be a very spiritual man and I think he was looking for something more: a contact with our essence, the true meaning of human existence, of our origins, of our destiny...Roerich undertook the trip along with his wife Helen Ivanovna, in search of Shambhala, and I believe that what he lived and experienced on that expedition, in that place, is something that only a few chosen ones have the fortune to enjoy.

  “So do you think he found what he was looking for?”

  “Yes. From the paintings he created, I think so. You have to see them, they’re fascinating.” He looked out at nothing, as if he could see them. “Personally, after what has happened to me this weekend, I want to undertake that trip. I don’t know how long I’ll be in those lands but for at least a part of it I’d like you to be with me. It doesn’t matter if your boyfriend comes, your father or whoever. I only know that something tells me that this also concerns you.”

  “So you believe that you’re going to find the mythical Shambhala in the Gobi Desert?” I asked with growing interest, ignoring his last comment.

  “I’m not sure. There’s a lot of information on the internet, but I’m afraid most of it isn’t reliable. However, something tells me that, yes, Shambhala could be precisely in that destination where we’ll be going very soon or, at least it’s one of the gateways to it.”

  We were quiet for a few seconds. My gaze was lost in the infinity of the cream-colored upholstery of that car. I tried to meditate, to get beyond the vertigo that those words had given me. I wanted to be brave to see what I had to do, the task I had to carry out, no matter how tough or difficult it might be. But the only feeling in my chest was as if I were going to plunge into space from an incalculable height. If I analyzed it from a rational perspective, forgetting about all the people and resources that would be needed for that trip, the idea was very tempting, and more now since I didn’t have to work at the office every day. I was free to do whatever I wanted. But there was Ian and my father, and although I knew that they would be fine on their own, and they would be here when I got back, I didn’t want to leave them here. Above all, I rejected the idea of leaving Ian. I wondered if it was possible that he intuited what was going to happen and that’s why he’d been so evasive...on the other hand, that was no excuse. He could come, too. Victor didn’t mind, and I preferred that they came with us. The matter, then, was that I would have to meditate first if I were to end up enlisting in that tempting mystical trip and then, if the answer was positive, pose the idea to Ian with the hope that he’d agree to go with us.

  “Let me meditate on it,” I asked him finally.

  “Yes, take your time. I’ll start looking at plane tickets and the rest of the necessary preparations.”

  “When do I have to let you know?”

  “The date is fixed, but there are still a few days left. Enrique Paz’s expedition leaves June 13.”

  “What? What did you say?!” I exclaimed, stupefied.

  “That the expedition leaves June 13. You still have it...”

  “No, no, no—did you say ‘Enrique Paz’?

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know Enrique Paz?” I asked nervously.

  Victor looked at me in amazement.

  “That’s what I was telling you...apart from the fact that on Friday I was at a conference of his, it so happens that the article I read was also by him.”

  “But...I didn’t see you at the conference on Friday,” I argued, shell-shocked.

  “I saw you, but when I saw you were with other people, I didn’t want to say anything,” he answered cheerfully.

  Now I was speechless. Seeing that I didn’t react, Victor continued explaining himself.

  “After reading the article by this man, I was looking for more information on his website. It turned out he had an agenda scheduled to do workshops, courses, conferences, and guess what, he talked about a couple of expeditions. One of them is the one we’re talking about, the Gobi Desert.

  “I assumed that it was a scheduled trip with just a few people and that it was probably already closed. But something told me that this was what I was looking for. Those people, many or few, would be the ones I needed to go with. So I sent him an email telling him everything that had happened that weekend. I got an answer right back from him, giving me instructions on how to join the group.”

  “I can’t believe it!” I exclaimed. “I have to talk to Ian,” I said, stunned, once again staring out at nothing.

  “A-ha! I get the feeling at in the end, you’ll come with me,” he said.

  “I just don’t know if I can.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pay your way.”

  I wasn’t referring to that exactly, although he interpreted it from an economic standpoint. In any case, he wasn’t wrong, that trip would mean an expense that I didn’t have planned in my budget.

  “You’re crazy,” I burst out with no qualms about expressing my thoughts out loud.

  “No. You know that not long ago I offered you help of any kind. And there’s no hidden agenda. I want to do it.” I stayed quiet, thinking. He continued, “You know I have plenty of money, I’ve told you that before. Besides, now, at least for the moment, I don’t think you have a lot of income, so I insist that it be my treat.”

  After saying that, he was quiet, observing me. I felt uncomfortable with people watching me, but at that moment, it didn’t bother me. I was concentrating on my mind and my emotions. Not only did I feel a great desire to immerse myself i
n those distant lands, but in addition, Victor would cover the cost of the ticket. It was if the Universe was providing me with everything so that all I had to do was say ‘yes.’ I remembered the communication received by Ian about work between China and Mongolia. Could Victor’s trip and Ian’s message be related? Something told me that they were. In addition, Enrique Paz, the famous researcher and UFO contactee, seemed to be the tie that was binding all the pieces together. It seemed to me that the decision to go to Mongolia was being made ‘without me.’

  “I have to talk to Ian,” I finally said again.

  “Take your time, but when you know, call me. I’ll be waiting.”

  “This friend of yours that you went to the Congress of Lamas with, is he going, too?” I asked, without really knowing why.

  “No. He hasn’t felt ‘the call.’”

  Chapter 21

  Trip to the Gobi Desert

  Victor’s visit left me almost petrified. It became increasingly clear to me that many of the things that happen in life occur when you least expect them, without warning, abruptly, giving you only enough license to get used to it as soon as possible. However, I felt fairly lucky to have a certain ‘ability’ to adapt, relatively quickly, to these events, though of course, that ability didn’t exempt me from surprises. They came in all kinds. Some seemed to come from fairy tales, others from horror shows. There were also some like science fiction novels, and yet, they were all real.

  After Victor left, I went upstairs to my house. The first thing I did was turn on the computer. I googled ‘Nicholas Roerich,’ and was able to read for myself part of what my friend had told me about. I didn’t get too deeply into it, just enough to confirm the data he’d given me minutes ago in his car. Though to be honest, I think I actually proceeded in that manner out of necessity—a need that arose in my mind to verify, in some way, that our recent conversation wasn’t an invention of my own mind.

  I lowered the screen of the laptop without turning it off properly, got up hurriedly from the armchair and walked towards the door of my house. I picked up my car keys, telephone, and my purse, and went down the stairs as fast as I could go towards my car.