When I had my caravan ready the contents seemed considerable, but in fact I had only bare necessaries. In addition I took about fifty one-pound tins of Huntley & Palmer's biscuits, as these are a great delicacy to the Tibetans, especially for the lamas. I depended upon them to some extent for assistance, mostly from the head lama of the monasteries. This recognition would be of assistance, as I would be likely to be welcomed by the populace also.
I also took with me a number of silk scarves, which are the traditional ceremonial gifts in Tibet. I was informed of this courtesy previously. If you place the silk scarf around the neck of the person receiving the scarf, it is a sign that you consider him your equal. If the scarf is just handed to him he is considered beneath you.
On all occasions I remembered to place the scarf around the neck and it paid big dividends. The great lamas granted me many privileges which I accepted with open arms.
I left the small town of Kalimpong and went down into the valley of the Teesta River. This river is considered the fastest flowing river in the world. Its colour is bluish white, caused by the melting of the snow and ice coming from the great glaciers in the Himalayas, especially the great glaciers of the mighty Kanchenjunga, the most beautiful peak of the great range of the Himalayas and considered to be more difficult to climb than Mount Everest.
The valley became deeper and deeper and the road in parts a mere track. This track is forced to follow the roaring waters of the Teesta through the gorges which have been created through the thousands of years of the waters' continuous cascading. The atmosphere on the lower levels was suffocating, and a sort of humid smell came from the thick impenetrable jungle surrounding us on all sides.
This deep green thick foliage, which it is impossible to penetrate, is filled with elephant, rhino and the ferocious Bengal tiger, and there are hundreds of other wild animals and reptiles, such as leopards, monkeys, snakes and pythons.
I was glad when I began to climb out of this deadly atmosphere. As we rose out of it, a clearing could be seen here and there, revealing majestic scenery such as the eye seldom sees. The blue sky looked like a canopy covering the green foliage, with colourful rhododendron trees on the sides of the mountains, while the treacherous Teesta River rushed over the jutting rocks with the roar of an express train. These scenes are still deeply printed in my memory, and I can well recall them as I write. I was fascinated by the wildness of it all; the mountains, the jungle, the river, the track, the trees and the patches of green mingling together in one beautiful yet awe-inspiring panorama.
To realise that just off the track, hidden there in the jungle, might be certain death was enough to make one think, and a slip off the track into that howling torrent of the Teesta would be a terrible fate.
As one clearing after another came into view I could see the peaks of the Himalayas in the distance covered with the eternal snows, and I knew that in a day or two I must cross the pass that separates these peaks.
I was exhilarated knowing that at last I was truly on my way to the great adventure of my life, and I looked forward with joy and anticipation to what was going to happen in the future.
I had no fear, because I was told that all would be well with me, and I was ready to face any danger with confidence.
I knew that secreted somewhere beyond these great Himalayan mountains was the mystery I was bound to solve.
The first day we travelled twelve miles, a good day's march. We pulled up at a small village on the side of the river. Around the huts which were built on poles several feet off the ground there was a fairly large clearing with stockades where the beasts are kept at night, safe from marauding tigers and leopards. There was an official hut on the way, but this was occupied for the night, so we chose the next best thing.
I chose a small hut on the hillside, above the village; this hut was made of grass canvas. My bearer said to me, "Sahib, do you think it is safe up there?"
"Well," I replied, "it is better than down among the cattle - and others must have slept there before me, I'm sure."
The hut was about two feet from the hillside which had been cut away so that it could fit in. My bearer got out my sleeping bag, and after a wash (a basin and a pail of water had been provided for me) I had supper. Then I turned in. I had a healthy tiredness and fell off to sleep almost immediately.
During the night I was awakened by the presence of an animal between the hillside and my flimsy hut; it was obviously smelling for something and it made a growling sort of noise. I knew it was a tiger or a leopard and I must frighten it away before it got any bolder. So I took the basin full of water that I had washed in and let it fly, followed by the pail, in the direction where I thought the animal was. All this made such a hell of a noise that the beast must have got a terrific fright, for it gave a fierce growl and bolted. Shortly afterwards I heard the yelling of a pig and I gathered that the beast got its meal after all -- I was glad I was not the victim. In fact, though, I was not disturbed at all by this experience; I seemed rather to like it at first, but when I told my bearer the next morning he said, "Sahib, you had a very narrow escape."
I laughed it off, but at the same time I resolved to take good care to choose a more protected place the following night.
After shaving and cleaning up we had breakfast, which consisted of porridge with salt in it (porridge without salt tastes insipid to me). We had tinned cream, a piece of bacon with toast and tea. Truly I felt happy - I can almost realise that feeling as I am writing.
We started off in a very happy mood that morning, and my happiness seemed infectious, for even the animals seemed in a gay mood. We went higher and higher up the mountain track, which rose steeply for thousands of feet, and away down below I could hear the roar of the Teesta, though I could not see it. I knew that part of the glaciers hundreds of miles away was in that river making its way to the sea.
"What a tale that river could tell," I said to my bearer.
"Yes," he said, "and many a life has been lost in that river, Sahib."
Part of the track had fallen away and there was barely room to pass. We clung precariously close to the inside. I was afraid that the load on the mules might touch the side and send them rolling down into the gorge a thousand feet below. Happily the muleteer was an experienced man and he led the mules past with great care. I did not chance riding my pony and walked gingerly past leading him behind me, but he also was an experienced beast - he had travelled that way many times before. Shortly after we passed I heard a rumbling noise, and there, coming down the mountainside, was a hail of boulders, some as big as the hut I had slept in on the previous night. We had just passed in time. What could have disturbed these boulders, I wondered; could it have been a mountain bear? for there were plenty around those parts, or it might have been a mountain goat.
During the rainy season, I was told, occasionally the track is impassable as the whole mountainside would fall headlong into the gorge below, and then several days would be needed to make a fresh track farther up the mountainside. Yes, it is a tricky business, climbing the Himalayas!
That night we got to the border of Sikkim, where we had comfortable accommodation in one of the well-constructed huts built by the Younghusband expedition.
A company of Gurkhas was stationed there to prevent any unauthorised person entering Sikkim, which is the gateway to Tibet. I showed my pass, signed the book, and gave all details of my expedition. On my return seven months later I signed below my previous signature to prove that I was the same person who had passed that way before and that I had got back safe and sound.
Chickens, eggs and potatoes were easily bought, and that night we had roast chicken and baked potatoes, these tasted good, for we had done a two-day journey in one day.
The following morning we crossed the river into Sikkim and made our way towards Gangtok, the capital of Sikkim. Here the political officer of Tibet, a Mr. Gould, had his residence. I had an excellent dinner with him that evening. Next I paid my respects to the Maharaja of Sikkim and we had a pleasant evening all round. His wife was a beautiful Tibetan girl, member of a highly cultured family in Yatung. She was charming and spoke English with a fascinating accent, which added to her charm.
Next day we started our really strenuous part of the journey, climbing up towards the Natula Pass. The track here is not more than two feet wide in most places, zig-zagging up the steep mountainside, and the higher you get the deeper the precipices and ravines become.
We passed several trains of donkeys, sometimes more than a hundred donkeys in one train, and in some trains of yaks there are eight hundred or more, carrying everything on their backs as there is no wheeled traffic in Tibet, not even a wheelbarrow. (A number of donkeys or yaks is called a train.)
We met one train of donkeys on a very dangerous part, where the track is very narrow. The outsides of the tracks are worn away, the reason for this being that the animals instinctively know that if they keep near the mountainside their protruding loads might hit against the jutting rocks and this could send them headlong thousands of feet over the precipice to their death, with their loads and all.
We could hear bells tinkling, bells which the donkeys carry around their necks, and we stopped at a passing place till they went by.
You can imagine what my thoughts were on my first experience of this kind.
At a night resting-place, farther along the trade route, I examined the backs of some donkeys when their loads were taken off, and I found that most of their backs were covered with sores from the rubbing of the saddles on which the loads are carried. I was disgusted, to say the very least, to see how these poor little animals suffered and I remonstrated, through my interpreter, with the muleteers. They said they did not think that the donkeys felt any pain. They showed me their own feet cut by the razor-like edge of the ice that forms as the slush freezes on the track after sundown, and they did not think that the donkeys felt pain either.
When the sun is up, the snow melts on the track; but when the sun has set this slush becomes frozen with razor-like edges which crunch under your feet. Many of the Tibetans wear a sort of straw rope around their feet, and this offers some protection against the sharp edges of frozen slush.
I marvelled at the terrible loads these little donkeys with their little spindle legs carried; they struggle up the steep mountain track with a load almost equal to their own weight.
One morning, one of my mules started a kicking fit; he did not want to carry his load any farther and threw it off by kicking his heels up in the air every time we put it on. But this was soon remedied. The muleteer tied a rope round the mule's feet from the back foot to the corresponding front foot, and when the mule kicked again he fell flat on his nose; he did not kick any more and we continued on our journey. Apparently it was not the first time this trick had been tried.
Slowly we wound our way up the steep Himalayas and in two days we reached the top of the Natula Pass, covered with the eternal snows. This is about 2,000 feet above the wood line, about 16,000 feet above sea level - a sight I shall never forget. Away in the distance, as far as the eye could see, were the majestic peaks of the mighty Himalayas covered with snow. I looked away above and beyond, and away down towards the Chumbi Valley. Here was a strange land, strange that is to the outside world and to which the outside world was a stranger. It was like a land of dreams, and my heart thrilled at the magnificent sight, knowing that down there, the valley would mean another step towards the fulfilment of my life-long desire.
As we reached lower down towards the Chumbi Valley the mountainside was covered with rhododendron trees in full bloom, some pink, some red, some purple, some white, and the floor of the green valley, 11,000 feet above sea level, was coloured with wild flowers. Here and there you could see the red-topped Tibetan houses, surrounded by a patchwork of cultivated land, some patches green, some red, some brown, and through the centre flows the rushing Amo Chu River, the waters of which are turned into channels to irrigate the land. I stood enraptured, gazing upon a scene unparalleled anywhere in the world.
As I looked upon this emerald green valley coloured as it was with wild flowers and dotted here and there with the red roofs of the houses surrounded with a patchwork of cultivated land, threaded by a rushing river, and all this surrounded on all sides by towering snow-clad mountains, I saw wrapped in the mist, secluded in the mountainside a mysterious Tibetan monastery, a school of mystery, where knowledge of a forgotten age still existed. It looked for all the world like a crazy carpet that one could look upon for hours without being tired for the looking.
We rested for the night at a comfortable hut on the mountainside. The following day we would wend our way down into Yatung.
The Natula Pass we had just crossed separated us now from the outside world. We were now in the land of mystery, the forbidden land on the roof of the world.
It is true that one finds what one is seeking. Some seek pictures of the beautiful, the rugged, the dangerous. I was not seeking pictures; I was seeking something eternal and I knew I would find it.
A fire was made up in my hut and I sat before it, thinking deeply what the morrow would bring. I must have sat for a considerable time, for the fire was now low.
I put out the candlelight and went to bed. As the red glow of the fire grew dimmer I was startled out of my reverie. Close beside me a figure appeared at my bedside. I thought my bearer had returned for something and I said, "What do you want, bearer?"
There was no answer. I looked again and saw that it was a person robed like a lama. I felt a tingling through my body; I looked at the face and saw that it was a very fine Mongolian type, a high brow, with piercing eyes, his face lit up as if the sun was shining from it. His eyes were set well apart and the face was beautifully formed. I saw his lips move but could not hear what he said; he smiled a smile as of one who knew, and gradually he disappeared from view.
I am not in the habit of having hallucinations, nor imagining things, for I have a very searching mind and do not accept things without due consideration. This indeed must have been a visitation of some kind and I knew that the morrow would give me the answer.
On reaching Yatung the following day I was met again by my friend. I call him "my friend," in fact he was more than a friend to me, now. I told him of my experience, but he said nothing about it.
He said, "You will rest here tonight and tomorrow I want you to meet someone who knows you."
I was puzzled at this remark, for I could hardly know anyone in this forbidden land.
When the next day arrived I was deeply interested in the person I was going to meet. We started out alone, just the two of us, and I asked, "How far have we to go to meet this person who knows me?"
He pointed up the valley and said, "There is Lingmatang. There is a master there whom I want you to meet, the one who knows you. He lives in the monastery, though he has long ago passed by their beliefs and dogmas and ritual, but it suits him to stay there. He is reverenced by all lamas, in fact throughout the whole of the land, as a great Master. Yet he will tell you, it is not a master you need, for that which is greatest is within yourself, and there, only, will you find the answer to what you seek."
After this he became silent and no further words were spoken until we reached the monastery.
The monastery was cunningly situated in the mountainside and I did not see it until I was right there. A more inspiring sight is seldom seen. We came upon it all at once. I wondered how such a massive stone structure could have been built on the side of the mountain on which it stood.
I stood for a minute, wondering deeply what was in store for me. After climbing the huge rock steps we reached the massive door of the monastery, which must have been at least thirty feet high. The huge door swung open silently as if the hinges were on ball-bearings. Apparently they must have seen us and were expecting us, for we were immediately attended by several lamas, who led us through several halls into a winding passage until we reached a door panelled in gold. At the side hung a long piece of brocade to which was attached a golden tassel. When one of the lamas conducting us pulled it, I could hear a gong sounding in the inside.
Then the door opened and we entered, and there stood before me the great Geshi Rimpoche himself, the very face I saw two nights before in the hut. I could not take my eyes off him. This meeting had a tremendous effect on me and I realised that at that moment I was on the verge of a great mystery. He welcomed me as his brother, and a warm feeling immediately went through me. I knew that I had felt this influence before, yes, for a long time, it must have been for several years.
I felt extremely happy and we talked about my journey and the world I had come from, for he himself had travelled all over the world and could speak several languages.
Little more was said and we adjourned for some food which was already prepared for us. I was shown my comfortable quarters and told that I needed rest and tomorrow we would speak together again. Needless to say I slept as I had never slept before.
On the following morning my friend, Geshi Rimpoche and myself, the three of us, walked slowly among the wild flowers, until we came to a secluded spot beside a stream where the water gently slid over the polished rock, polished through the ages by the continuous flow of the silent stream of water.
The air was electric. Geshi Rimpoche spoke about his visit to me in the hut.
He said, "You know that astral projection is very easy in this atmosphere."
"Yes," I replied, "but that is not the first time you have visited me. The same influence I have sensed for many years. Now I understand."
My words seemed to flow very easily, for I felt a sense of complete contentment, and I said, "What I want to know is why I have been singled out for this work."
He answered, "My son, for this you were born," and he continued in a voice that I could listen to forever: "To a great extent our desires are often the will of the Creator and all the forces of Heaven and earth are brought into action to express that will. A higher power had the planning of your being here now."
He was silent for a minute. Then he said, "Did you plan your coming on this earth?"
I replied, "It is believed by some that reincarnation is a truth, you know."
"Ah," he said, "now you have accepted what another has told you or what you read in books, but you do not know whether it is true or not, nor does it matter! There can only be 'One' Life and Life is not divided; the Life that is in you and me must be the same Life, there can be no separation in the Life that is 'One.' This Life in the body, you will find, is the same Life beyond the body, the totality of all Life cannot be separated in you or me.
"There can be no separation even in what you see and feel! Matter is a name you have given to the material world, but do you know what it is? When you try to find out what it is, it changes into something else, and when you try to find what that something else is, it changes into something else, and this goes on ad infinitum. There is no finality; there is no finality in Infinity. The mind can never know 'Truth' which is beyond the mind; the mind can only create an idea of Truth, an image of Truth, a belief in regard to Truth, but this is obviously not Truth Itself. Therefore you will never know what Truth is, but you will know that Truth is, and only within yourself can Truth be found."
I said, "I know that very well now. There is a mass of books in circulation telling us what Truth is. Now I can see that those who wrote these books are, themselves, just searching for that which they do not know. All they have is but ideas, words, that create an endless stream of further ideas and words."
"That is true, my son," he said, "but they have their value. It shows that they have begun to think for themselves and their value to others is of a similar nature."
"But your work," he continued, "is to show what an idea is, what an image is; to show: that which is made up in the mind is not Truth. But you must have an idea first before you can understand what an idea is. You yourself were filled with ideas which you thought were the Truth. But that which you made up in your mind is not Truth, because Truth is not made up, and you will hear that again and again."
"Yes," I said, "I know that now, and I would be the last one to condemn another for having ideas."
"Yes," he went on, "But there are those who will condemn you for not having an idea or image of the Truth, though you know very well that an idea or an image is not the Truth, for the Truth is neither an idea nor an image. These things are mental creations, but the Truth is not created. Truth is the creativeness behind all Creation. Yet that which is created is not Truth, only the Uncreated is creative, and that is the Truth. 'I am the Truth, I am the Life,' the Master Jesus said. It is the same for you and for us all, for there is but 'One' in all, and all in 'One'."
He had just finished when the chonghas (ceremonial trumpets) sounded calling the lamas to prayer.
I said, "Then do you condemn all this form and ritual?"
"No," he replied, "if I condemned it I could not understand it, but now that I understand what it is I no longer take part in it. The Christian religion has form and ritual too. It may be slightly different but they are all similar.
"Ritual is mental, not spiritual; the ways of performing it may be different, but it is all of the mind and this is what you have to understand, otherwise you can never be free. If you refuse to understand it, you are still bound by it, whether you believe it or disbelieve it. Spirituality is the silent expression of Love, Wisdom and Power, not the repeating of ritual.
"Now we will go in and take part in the ceremony so that you can understand it, and also for the experience; then you will see that all religions are similar. The words may be different, the chanting may be different but the mind is following an idea, that is all. But it is not the Truth that sets you free. You can only be free when you understand what the mind is made up of, and how and from where it is made up.
"Why are some Buddhist, and others Christian, why are some Mohammedans, and others atheists? Are they not fundamentally all the same? They may be different religions, but they all follow an ideal, and so does the atheist. Believing and not believing is the same thing; it is all in the mind, is it not? It is but the conflict of ideas."
The chonghas kept sounding with their long booming tones, like the boom of a giant gong.
"Now," he said, "you have bells instead of chonghas, calling your people to prayer."
We entered the great hall where all the lamas were now sitting lotus-fashion, chanting Om Mani Padme Hum which means, "Hail the jewel in the lotus flower!" When one section would end on the "Hum" the other section would begin with the "Om," so there was a continuous sound which caused even the great pillars of the temple hall to vibrate. At intervals the great gongs would be sounded, their heavy booming tones vibrating and mingling with many little bells as the voices of the lamas grew louder and louder.
The effect it had on me was that I felt I was going into a deep trance as the sound vibrated through my brain.
I could understand now how some of the lamas became ascetics through the repeating of the words Om Mani Padme Hum; it was a matter of self-hypnosis.
After the service was over I said I was greatly affected by the power of the sound of the chanting, the gongs and the chonghas.
"Yes," said my friend, "the lamas may know the power of sound, but if they knew the source of it, they could lead the world. The Spirit alone has voice, you know," and he said no more.
These were the first words he uttered that day.
"Now, come and we will enjoy some music of the early masters and some of the latest too," said Rimpoche.
I could see that Rimpoche wanted to relieve the tension, for this day was a very wonderful one for me, and I was still caught up with the many things I had seen and heard. The Master knew his pupil, as all great Masters do. So we adjourned into his inner sanctuary where he kept a magnificent gramophone with a perfect tone.
We partook of a light meal and listened to the music of the great masters, of Beethoven, Wagner, Grieg, Mozart, Bach, Mendelssohn, Chopin and others.
After this we retired each to his own quarters.
I started the outcropping of my mind, watching, observing what was rising to the surface impersonally. It was not long before I grasped, "That which the mind is made up of is not the Truth."
Eventually there was a silence, not a silence that I was accustomed to, but a silence that came from a mind that was freed from conflicting ideas and images. And in that Silence I experienced a sense of Reality. In that "moment" was Eternity, and all the power and glory of Its expression was "Now."
If I could only hold this tremendous source of wisdom, love and power! But then I started thinking and lost it.
I tried to recapture that moment but it was gone, it was now an experience, a memory, the moment that was past was no more. Yet I did not realise that in that moment was the Eternal, and to live from moment to moment was the Living Truth, the Oneness of all things was Now. There was no beginning and no ending. When I realised this I was no longer in separation, I was one with all, the Creator and His Creation became one with me.
Words cannot explain or reveal this state of Being, it was mine now and forever, and I was satisfied; the search was over, and now I could go further. I knew that nothing outside myself could reveal It, I had to realise It for myself.
I stayed in my own quarters for the remainder of the day, and in the evening I passed off into a peaceful sleep.
Next morning I felt light, as if a great burden had been taken from me. I lived in the moment of Eternity, I was no longer anxious, my craving ceased. I was free.
I went outside, the sky was clear, the stars were still gleaming and sparkling like thousands of diamonds set in a dark blue canopy lighting up the mountains and valley in relief. Gradually the sun began to creep up from behind the great mountains covered with snow, and the colour display was a panorama of beauty. The twinkling of the stars gave way to the rays of the rising sun, the dark blue canopy faded into a light blue reflecting all the shades of the dazzling colours of the rainbow - firstly, a dull red with streams of light bursting amid the edges, then the red and pink would come into view, intermingling with each other, spreading rays in all directions reflected from the snowclad mountains piercing the blue sky, while the shadows dissolved away in the valley below.
As the first rays of the sun came into view they lit up the portals of the monastery and I could hear the lamas chanting Om Mani Padme Hum which was echoing down the valley, with the incense wafting on the gentle breeze. My senses were forming an indelible picture that has withstood the millions of impressions gathered since. And as it comes into my mind I can see before me now that most exhilarating sight and feel the exhilarating atmosphere and hear the sounds of the rushing river and booming of the great gong, the sounding of the chonghas, the chanting of the lamas and the enchanting aroma of incense. Yes, it is unforgettable, to say the least.
I was gazing into space, I don't know for how long. As I turned I saw my friend just behind me, doing the same thing.
"I see you are enjoying the splendour, my son."
"Yes," I said, "I feel entirely different in this atmosphere."
"Yes," he said, "since every thought wave creates a different motion in the atoms and cells of the body the facial muscles reveal the expression of the thought waves and I see that you have become younger, my son. The beat of your heart and your breathing have already revealed a change in your functional organism. Cause and effect are one, my son."
I listened attentively to his words because I wanted to understand everything he said. This was important and I knew he could read my mind.
"Yes, my son, the Divine Creation is the transformation of the Eternal Ever-present Intelligent Energy into form, emanating from the Divine Mind and changing into greater splendour according to your capacity to receive. Vibration is the keynote of creation and the rhythmic organisation of atoms into the pattern we see before us."
"It will," he continued, "maintain health and strength in mind and body, and Its magnetic attraction and inherent intelligent action can be used for higher purposes and greater accomplishments that will yet stagger the imagination of man. Not only does this intelligent action manifest itself in the individual but it also rushes beyond the confines of the individual in ever-widening circles to envelop the whole earth's circumference, and according to the Divine Law of 'Love your neighbour as yourself' we will reflect the beauty of the Divine in our own souls and those who come after us will manifest a greater expression of the Divine Nature that created us by the Word that was in the beginning - the Christ of God behind and within all mankind."
He stopped for a minute and there was a silence.
Then he said to me, in a subdued voice, "You know that Geshi Rimpoche is leaving his earthly body for good soon, that is why we desired you to see him in the flesh. He looks comparatively young, but he has passed through over two hundred years of constant work for the world at large, yet the world does not know him. Here he comes now," and when I looked at him he did not seem to be more than fifty years of age. His very presence rejuvenated me.
He must have sensed what we were saying, for he said in no uncertain way, "Yes, the Intelligence that created all you see is ever-present, and, when man prepares himself for Its true expression, through man will come things that we can yet only dimly dream about. Yes," he went on, "the same Intelligence that is active throughout the whole Universe is active here and now. The only deterrent to its expression is man himself, yet through man will come things that will stagger the imagination. Man is the focal point through which it can manifest, and how mighty is Its omnipotence, waiting to reveal Its Omnipresent Omniscience!
"Life does not end when we leave the body, there is no division or separation in the Life in the body and the totality of all Life in the Universe, It is one, and so-called death does not divide or separate It." And there was a deep Silence which we all felt.
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