BEYOND THE HIMALAYAS
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was a month since I arrived at the Hermitage of Ling-Shi-La and I had gained more than I had ever hoped for. The days were an ever-increasing joy to me, and a deep affinity had grown up among the three of us.
My friend who had met me at Kalimpong was now my constant companion and I decided to stay with him for the rest of the time left to me. His Sanctuary was beyond Lhasa, at a place called Zamsar, and we had many talks about it. We talked also about what the Hermit had said and my friend gave me much enlightenment on points I could not then grasp.
My friend's sanctuary was 200 miles away from the Hermitage of Ling-Shi-La. The journey there together, and the experience and joy of the companionship, will have to be told in another book which I hope to write later.
I had grown to love the Hermit during my stay with him and he felt the affection I had for him, for it was returned a hundredfold. I was his son, his true Spiritual son, and we both felt the same way. To me he was a true Spiritual father, and when I told him so his eyes would light up with joy, and I could feel the flow of that love that is beyond human understanding coming from him as he put his arm around my shoulders.
He was the sage of sages and I drank in every word he said. My friend also felt that warmth of love coming from the Hermit, although an adept himself he respected the wisdom of the sage of sages and listened with an attention not known to the ordinary man.
The joy of this true Spiritual companionship cannot be expressed in words, for there are no words coined to reveal the true meaning.
In a few days I would be leaving with my friend on our long journey over the roof of the world. He himself had come all the way to Kalimpong to meet me, nearly three hundred miles. His adeptship was second to none; he had a deep understanding of all that was false, and it was this that at the beginning helped me most. To cast off the burden that I had carried so long put my feet on the first rung of the ladder on which I have climbed steadily ever since.
During the last few days we fished on the lake for food only, the Hermit's desire being that we should take only for our needs from day to day.
I asked my friend: "How old do you think the Hermit is?"
"No one knows his age," he replied, "and he will not discuss it with anyone. But it is a very, very long time since he taught at Ganden monastery."
The Hermit was also an authority on rare plants and roots. He had a wonderful knowledge of the rarest plants and roots in all Asia, and he would explain to us what they were and their uses.
The rarest of these plants, he said, grew only in the highest mountain regions, and the difficulty of locating them, together with the hardships experienced in the mountain regions, prevented all except the most experienced climbers possessed of maximum endurance to reach the coveted prize.
I said that I would like to search for these plants. I had always been keen on searching for the unobtainable, and I was eager to go searching. My friend looked at me as much as to say, "Do you know what you are letting yourself in for?"
Anyway, it was decided that we would try to find four of the rarest plants, and we set out with that purpose the next morning, each taking with us some food in a haversack and some warm head-gear and gloves as a protection from the icy blasts of the high mountains. We also took climbing staffs, an ice axe and a rope in case we should need it, and a light spade with which to dig in the snow.
The Hermit thought that the most likely place to find the plants would be up towards the pass, and we steadily made our way in that direction. I was amazed at the Hermit; he could outstrip us both and we were both experienced climbers. I had already climbed many passes, and even before coming to Tibet I had done much climbing in the New Zealand Alps, also in Europe.
It was getting dark when we reached the high levels above the woodline in the eternal snows. The Hermit said: "This is the time to find the Arhota; its root is the shape of a human body. It has a head, body, arms and legs, hands and feet, all represented by its roots. It has a flower that sparkles like a diamond; it can be found easier at night because it shines like a light in the snow. It grows underneath the snow many feet deep, yet it has the power to melt the snow around it and make its way to the surface. Its petals are white, like the snow, and if it did not shine and sparkle it would be impossible to locate it. It gives off a sort of phosphorescent glow."
"This plant," he added, "is used by the lamas as a general tonic for all ailments; the different parts of the root can be pulverised separately and used for the different parts of the body it represents."
We kept our eyes open, you may be sure, and we
scanned the snow upon which the moon was now
shining. The Hermit observed an Arhota first, and
we dug down in the snow until we reached the root -
and there, just as he had explained it, there it was
with the shape of the human body.
It was exceedingly cold now and the winds were
becoming very fierce.
The Hermit said: "I think we had better practise
Tumo for a while to generate heat in our bodies."
In an aside I asked my friend: "And does the
Hermit practise Tumo, too?"
"Yes," he replied, "he is master of all the occult
Sciences."
In a few minutes our bodies were like fire.
"In the morning we will look for the Ngodevwa, which is the flower of the angels," said the Hermit. "Its name is appropriate and, if we can find one, you will remember its beauty forever. This flower is also most difficult to obtain, as it grows deep underneath the snow. The only indication of its presence is a hole in the snow about six inches wide. It grows mostly where there is rock underneath. It generates a heat within itself and melts the snow all the way to the surface while it itself is hidden. We must find it before the sun rises, otherwise the hole gets hidden by the heat of the sun as the snow melts around it."
Again it was the Hermit who found the plant, the Ngodevwa. We dug down till we reached it, and I never saw anything so beautiful. It had a velvet surface, and the shine was impossible to describe completely. The petals were yellow, coming out of a deep purple centre with streaks of pink leading out into the centre of the petal right to the end. The petals were all of uniform size, with ends that came to a point dotted as if you had just painted them with pink and purple spots.
The Hermit prized this plant as one of the rarest in all Asia, and indeed it was a beautiful specimen. The root of this plant, he said, had never yet failed to cure kidney, bladder or dropsical conditions. When the lamas found this flower they used it very sparingly, even the smallest portion of it being effective.
I was now getting more and more excited. We had been out a whole day and a whole night. We already had two meals and we had enough left for a third.
"Now," said the Hermit, "we will climb down to the rocks and there we hope to find the Chomdenda, which means 'The conqueror.' This plant grows out of the rock in the high rocky regions. Its root has tremendous power, and we shall have to chop it virtually out of the rock. Its colour is grey and black, with a grassy stem, and at the end grows a grassy top."
"The properties of this plant," he went on to say, "are that it sustains you for days, even months. The lamas use it when crossing the mountains on long journeys. It has tremendous sustaining power. The lamas believe that it has the power of the mountain rock in it, and some call it the 'Elixir of Life.' It is brewed into a concoction with spirit made from corn, and it has the power to rejuvenate the cell structure, and it prevents wastage when the adepts are on a long practice of asceticism. The effects of a concoction of this plant, taken liberally, cause a deep trance or coma; the heart virtually ceases to beat, and suspended animation sets in. In this condition the body can be put into cold storage or buried deep in the snow for weeks. The Tibetan Yogi uses this concoction sometimes when he leaves his body in a cave and he wanders several weeks in the astral, and, when he comes back to his body, there is no wastage of any kind."
It was the Hermit again who found this plant, the Chomdenda, and he had to cut it from the rock with an ice axe.
"If you don't mind," I said to the Hermit, "I would like to take a bit of this with me." We all laughed heartily, I didn't know at what, but we kept on laughing for some time. It was my friend who had started us off. I asked him what we were laughing at and he replied: "You should know." But to this day I don't know!
"The last of the four rarest plants is called Yartsa Gumba," said the Hermit, "it means summer grass and winter insect. The most extraordinary thing about it is that in winter it becomes a root and in the summer it becomes a caterpillar, and when the caterpillar becomes a root in the winter a flower grows out of its head. These plants are very scarce and are seldom found, but I think we may find one. We will look for it on the lower levels as we go down."
Sure enough the Hermit found it. "Now," he said, "this is just in-between summer and winter, and you see half of the caterpillar has already gone hard into a root, and you see the flower is beginning to come out of the head."
It was amazing to see the change taking place.
The properties of this animal plant have the effect of clearing the brain. When the lamas find this plant they use it to stimulate the brain centres so that they can stay awake for days without feeling the need for sleep. When on long journeys, in the winter snows, to sleep would be dangerous; anybody could be buried in the snow in no time. Also it is a strong nerve stimulant, and by using it the lama can travel for days without sleep or rest.
These rare plants fascinated me. Few people had any knowledge of them; certainly no one in the western world had ever seen them. They may have heard of them, but I do not know of anybody having seen them.
We reached the Hermitage that evening - we had been away just two days and one night. The Hermit said it was a great achievement, for it took days, sometimes weeks, to locate the Arhota and the Ngodevwa.
We had been travelling all the time except for eating and digging, and I felt tired. I dived into the warm pool and swam around and felt quite fresh when I got back. We had supper and then retired for the night. I did not know it was morning until I felt the usual tugging of my friend.
Time was passing rapidly and I was feeling sad, for the parting was at hand. I felt I could stay here very much longer, but the Hermit said: "My son, you will have to go back soon into your world to do the work for which you were born."
"You are going to stay with your friend," he went on, "during the time that is left. Make the most of it. He will give you details whereas I have shown you the whole. This will be my last talk with you, my son." So we all sat down, eager to hear what he had to say, and this is what he said:
"Divine reasoning and knowing the self will lead you out of the false. But even Divine reasoning must cease before you can experience that which is Real, for the Real is beyond reason, beyond the mind. To discern that which is false will enable you to free yourself from it.
"But, as I have already told you, the known is not creative; only the Unknown is creative. The known can never be the Unknown.
"You see, my son, in every nation, in every group, there is a conception of Reality which they call God. But this is just an intellectual approach to Reality-God. Most people are discussing Reality so as to discover what Reality is. Hence we have so many different philosophies, so many different groups and religions.
"Reality is the Unknown and alone is creative - you understand that, my son?"
"Yes, I do," I humbly replied.
"The mind cannot comprehend Reality, but you can translate Reality into your daily living by understanding that the only way to approach Reality is by true affection and love. Then you will find yourself giving expression to Reality Itself; in this way you will translate Reality into your everyday living.
"Most people do not approach Reality through Love and affection but through antagonism and fear. Is it not so, that the members of a group while trying to approach Reality are antagonistic to the members of other groups? This is stupid nonsense, my son."
I was beginning to see more now; though the known was not Reality I still wanted a way to express It. I could now see that the key was in loving your neighbour as yourself.
"Is it not so, my son, that you have in the past tried to corner a bit of Reality for yourself?" he asked. "But it did not work. You desired Reality, only so that you could get what you wanted. Reality to you was but a means to an end. This is not expressing Reality; it is merely a suggestion in opposition to another suggestion in your mind.
"Now you know that the only way to express Reality is through love and affection, and then there is no frustration, no opposition. But this affection does not mean that you are merely in love with the idea that by so doing you will get what you want.
"People everywhere are seeking the love of God but hate their enemies. They are praying for peace but are preparing for war. They want success at the expense of their neighbour, but they are really cheating themselves.
"You see, my son, it is this inward poverty that makes them look to the external and they miss the Creativeness that is ever-present and Eternal.
"In the past you were discussing Reality as an idea, and so the idea became to you the Truth, when it was not the Truth."
I knew that now, for my friend very soon disposed of that fallacy with the first few words he said to me: "It does not matter very much whether it was true or not."
What I had, was not the Real - and I knew it at that very moment, and I said so.
"True, my son," he affirmed.
Then he went on: "Nearly all literature on Truth or philosophies discusses Reality as an idea. Reality is Life, and the mind cannot conceive what It is, therefore it is useless trying to make an idea of Life. But when you see that an idea is but an imitation, a mental concept, it dies away. Then Life that is ever-present becomes a Reality in you. You do not create It; what you create is not Reality. Reality is not an idea or a mental formulation but an actual Livingness expressing Itself in Love and affection. As long as you have merely an idea of It you will never know or experience It.
"You must realise, my son, that you live because Reality lives. Reality is Life - the Unknown is Life, and Life is creative; you do not know what Life is but you know that It is."
"Yes," I said, "I do now know that It is. I am the Life."
"Yes," he interrupted, "provided you do not try to make an idea of It. You see, my son, if your prayers arise merely from an idea or a belief which is your own conditioning they amount to nothing. This conditioning must cease to be, before the Unknown comes into Being.
"You must never lose yourself in philosophy or question another on that which can be realised only by yourself. You see, my son, if I would philosophise to you about the wonders of Reality you would build up only an idea of Reality. But you can never give expression to Reality through an idea, only through the action of Love and affection.
"You do not know what Love is, but you can experience Love. Possessiveness is not Love. Love is Eternal and Ever-present, whereas possessive love comes to an end.
"God is the Unknown and cannot be known. The moment you think you know God it is not God you know, but an idea of God - a projected image which hinders the discovery of the Unknown."
"Yes, I can see that," I said, "at first I was afraid to throw away the false. My mind always wanted something to hang on to. But when I saw how false it all was and how my ignorance blinded me to the falseness of it, the false fell away. The freedom I felt was beyond words. I was no longer caught up in beliefs, in ideas; and my fears dissolved as I saw they were my own creations."
"Yes," he said, "that is all very true. But Reality is never the result of the false, or the elimination of the false. You must know that It is now at this very moment and does not rise out of the false. The false has no foundation whatsoever; it is a myth. It is a self-created illusion.
"You see, my son, beliefs are a process of the mind and are born of the known. If you merely say 'God is the Unknown' you create an idea of the Unknown. But your mental creation of the Unknown is not the Unknown - the Creative - the Real.
"The man who accumulates wealth, builds temples, organises religions; the bishops, the cardinals, the preachers, as well as the man who drops the bombs, say that God is their companion. Surely their belief is but a form of self-expansion. It is merely their own conceit. Those who have conditioned their minds to a particular pattern which they call their religion can never realise the ultimate Reality which is Love and Affection."
"Yes," I said, "I can see that, and that is the cause of all antagonisms, each having a different pattern, a different religion, a different idea, trying to make others conform to their idea, and if they don't succeed they look upon you as something apart from themselves. They live in separation, which is the cause of all war, destruction and misery. They divide themselves into groups, nationalities, which is but a formulation in their minds. There is only one God, one Creator, and all must be His creation. The Creator and His creation are one."
"Yes," he said, "for the Unknown to Be, the mind must be completely emptied of what you believe or disbelieve. You must understand the whole content of your mind, the whole process of ideas and formulations, and by this means only will you be aware moment-to-moment, without any sense of accumulation. Your mind must be utterly silent without acceptance, without resistance, condemning or blaming; when the self has died then only is there that which is Real.
"Words are not important to you any more, for there is a state of Creativeness which is not an idea or a word or the expression of the self. You will then know what Is, what is Indescribable.
"A description of the Indescribable is merely a cultivation of memory. To verbalise the Indescribable - the Creative - the Unknown, is to put It into time, and that which is of time cannot be the Timeless."
"Now you see, my son," he said, "this knowing is not the result of the known but knowing that the known is not the Unknown - the Creative.
"It is not obtained through reason because It is beyond reason, but It does not run contrary to reason. It is not obtained through space or time factors, because It is ever-present in Its own Eternity. Therefore, every moment, all Life is concentrated at any point in Its omnipotence that you may choose to realise."
"Yes," I said, "I realise now that Divine Reason helps towards Divine Realisation. I can reason towards the Ultimate but reason must cease because it cannot go beyond mind. When it knows that it can never know, at that moment there is Reality."
"Yes, my son, I see that you understand now, and with this understanding you can go further, for there is no ending. Anything that has an end is not Reality.
"It is the Unmanifest that gives rise to the manifest; the Invisible gives rise to the visible. The Unknowable is the Creativeness within that creates, but will ever remain the Uncreated, the Unknowable. The creation can be known, but the Creativeness ever remains unknown.
"Those who seek to corner Reality for their own welfare become antagonistic to others; therefore, there is no love, no expression of the Real, only the self. It is the self that stands in the way."
"Yes, 'I of mine own self am nothing,' " I quoted. "Then Love, Wholeness, comes into Being. In Luke 12:20, I have read these words: 'Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee; then, whose shall then these things be which thou hast provided?' I can see now why prayers, year after year, cannot take the false out of the world. If the teachings of the Masters had not been mutilated to suit the dogmatists and separatists man would have freed himself long ago from imitation, beliefs and ideas, which are causing so much strife in the world."
"I can see also," I continued, "that good prayer is our Love and affection for others; false prayers are our words."
"Yes, my son," he said, "it is not an intellectual reaction that is needed, but an expression of Love and affection. So, transformation can take place immediately. Love and affection is action; the intellect merely reacts. Time will not bring It, only an understanding of the self; then there will be an imediate response where memories of right and wrong have passed into oblivion."
As I looked at him I saw that he was enveloped in a light as bright as the sun, and to me came these words, "I am not of this world."
But I knew now that to try to escape from the world could not end its trouble. To isolate myself from the world would be of no value, but what would be of value was to work in it with others, knowing them to be my brothers and sisters, and that what I had was in common with everyone, because all were struggling for freedom but did not know the way to it.
I saw how all were caught up in a civilisation which we had created ourselves with its clash of arms and din of social problems. The world was the people, the people was the world, a world wracked with fear, insecurity and distrust, because they had failed to see the false, thereby failing to understand the true principles of Life which were Love, affection, compassion, forgiveness and good-will. The world has disregarded the things that mattered while being steeped in the things that did not matter.
Even now we are trying to remedy the effects instead of eliminating the causes. We may well ask ourselves - where are we heading? Not until we embrace the true Christ Principle of living scientifically, individually and collectively, will we be able to look upon the face of the holy man and say "brother."
"I wish I could come with you into your world, my son, but the people would not understand me yet, we will be with you always, even unto the end of the world, for there is no separation between us: the Spiritual and the physical are one. When this is understood the world will emerge from the darkness into the Light that is eternally shining to show mankind the way."
"I am the Light of the world and he who heedeth me shall never know the darkness." These words passed through my mind as he spoke.
There was a silence for some time; none of us spoke. We were in silent prayer in a way that few could understand.
Then the Hermit spoke. He said: "My son, tomorrow you will be leaving me. In one way I am sorry to see you go, but in another way I am glad. And I am more than glad you came. There is no need for me to say that I love you as my son."
I felt tears coming into my eyes, and I said: "And I love you as a father, beyond earthly affection."
I had to pull myself together to check the flow of tears. Few can know that true comradeship that comes from the highest motives and true Spiritual understanding. To be with the Hermit was to learn to love all things great and small, for he was the expression of Love itself.
Next morning we were up before daybreak, as we had to get over the pass before nightfall. The Hermit came with us part of the way. Several times I looked back at that wonderful sight, the lake, the island, the house and all that it meant to me. It would be the last time I would look upon this scene with my physical eyes, I knew that. So we climbed, one following the other, the Hermit first, then my friend and I came last.
We left the Hermit just above the woodline. We could see him standing there looking towards us as we climbed farther and farther. His long white beard and white hair were blowing in the wind. We climbed and climbed and still the Hermit was there. I said to my friend: "Although there is parting in the physical, thank God there is none in the Spiritual."
"So say I," he echoed.
I stood for a time and waved back to the Hermit, for we would soon be moving out of sight around the rock face to escape the hurricane over the pass and then he would disappear from view.
I said aloud: "I will never again look upon you with my physical eyes. It is a sad moment I feel now."
Then turning to my friend: "There is no separation in the Spiritual. I will have to leave you also one day, and that will be an even deeper sorrow, but I am glad I came and that we have met in the flesh. And I will rejoice in the knowledge that we are not separated in the Spiritual."
The Hermit had now passed from view. I wondered what he was thinking at that moment.
We climbed now in Indian fashion, there being no room for two on the path. We each had our own thoughts. And they were much the same. We reached the other side of the pass when it was getting dark and we found a cave to shelter in for the night.
We had taken some food with us and we ate it with relish. We wrapped our robes around us and soon fell asleep in the cave that sheltered us from the storm that was howling outside.
Next morning we made our way down to the Tsang Po River to find the man with the coracle waiting for us. My friend spoke to him in Tibetan and said: "But how did you know we were coming?"
He said: "The Hermit came last night and told me you would be here today."
When my friend told me this I said: "Wonders will never cease."
We crossed the river and remained at Padong that night. Next morning we started on our long journey of 150 miles to Zamsar. It was a long journey but I loved every bit of it, for my friend - who was more than a friend to me - was a true Spiritual companion whose knowledge was even more astounding than I had first thought. He was a true adept. The journey and what happened on the way, and what I learned on that never-to-be-forgotten sojourn at Zamsar, will have to be told in another book which I hope to write in the near future.
* * * * * * * * *
This present book has been written mainly for enlightenment - not that you will find Truth in any book. It is to be found only within yourself and by yourself; no one else can give It to you.
Some people think they will understand Life by following experts, by joining philosophical societies or religious organisations. But to know Truth - Reality - there must be freedom from all these things. Freedom can never come through another. It is only when the conditioning influences of belief and the process of accumulated memory are understood that there then comes a silence that is not enforced, and in that silence is the discovery of the Real. But if your mind is disturbed you are reacting because of your mental formulations, you are caught up in what you believe to be true or not true. With Truth there is no reaction, there is action, and only in Love, Wisdom and Power -
And the Kingdom of these - the Kingdom of Heaven - is within you.
_________________________
The End
