From the fantastic book from T. LOBSANG RAMPA -


 (from 1963!!)

which he claims is absolutely true - and the people who KNOWS IN THEMSELVES - can recognise the wisdom…

(some words are translated to norwegian and there is some wordmistakes here because this is scanned from the book)

First a short introduction for the reader who dont know the Rampa story.

He Lobsang Rampa - had long time ago - in many earlier incarnations - been prepared for this task. And the preparations continued in the young life of Lobsang in Tibet, which many of his books deal with. Also this book. His task was to bring some of the wisdom known by the few initiated of Tibet, to the west of the world. Rampa did a very, very hard trip to USA and England - but was forced out of the country - and therefore, the initiated lamas of Tibet had prepared for another possibility. That was arranging a bodyexhange - a man in England wanted to come out of his difficult life - and so the lamas made it possible for him to come over to the astral world and Lobsang took over his physical body. That part of the story is described in his book THE RAMPA STORY and in a supplement here - last in this article.

Here we enter on page 20 - where the human AURA and the nature of the invisible MAN is described:

…The Lama Mingyar Dondup (the young Lobsang Rampas guide) spoke, "Al' Life, as I told you last night, consists of rapidly vibrating Matter generating an electrical charge, the electricity is the Life of Matter. As in music there are various octaves. Imagine that the ordinary Man in the Street vibrates on a certain octave, then a Nature Spirit and a Ghost will vibrate at a higher octave. Because the Average Man lives and thinks and believes on one octave only, people of other octaves are invisible to him!" I fiddled with my robe, thinking it over; it did not make sense to me. I could see ghosts and nature spirits, therefore anyone should be able to see them also. The Lama, reading my thoughts, replied, "You see the aura of humans. Most other humans do not. You see nature spirits and ghosts. Most other humans do not. All very young children see such things, because the very young are more receptive. Then as the child grows older, the cares of living coarsen the perceptions. In the West, children who tell their parents that there has been a game with Spirit Playmates are punished for telling lies, or are laughed at for their 'vivid imagination.' The child resents such treatment and after a time convinces himself that it was all imagination! You, because of your special upbringing see ghosts and nature spirits, and you always will - just as you will always see the human aura."

"Then even the nature spirits who tend flowers are the same as us?" I asked. "Yes," he replied, "the same as us except that they vibrate faster and their particles of matter are more diffused. That is why you can put your hand right through them just as you can put your hand right through a sunbeam." "Have you ever touched - you know, held -a ghost?" I queried. "Yes I have!" he replied. "It can be done if one raises one's own rate of vibrations. I will tell you about it."

My Guide touched his silver bell, a gift from a High Abbot of one of Tibet's better known Lamaseries. The monk-servant, knowing us well, brought - not tsampa, but tea from Indian plants, and those sweet cakes which were carried across the high mountains specially for His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, and which I, just a poor chela, enjoyed so much. "Reward for special efforts at study" as His Holiness had often said. The Lama Mingyar Dondup had toured the world, both in the physical and the astral. One of his very few weaknesses was an addiction to Indian tea. A weakness which I heartily endorsed! We settled down comfortably, and as soon as I had finished my cakes, my Guide and Friend spoke.

"Many years ago, when I was a young man, I scurried round a corner here at the Potala - just as you do, Lob-sang! I was late for Service, and to my horror I saw a portly Abbot blocking my way. He was hurrying too! There was no time to avoid him; I was just rehearsing my apology when I crashed right through him. He was as alarmed as I. However, I was so bemused that I kept on running and so was not late, not too late, after all." I laughed, thinking of the dignified Lama Mingyar Dondup scurrying (jagende) ! He smiled at me and continued.

"Late that night I thought about it. I thought 'why shouldn't I touch a ghost?' The more I thought about it the more determined I was that I would touch one. I laid my plans carefully, and read all the old Scripts about such matters. I also consulted a very very learned man who lived in a cave high in the mountains. He told me much, he put me on the right path, and I am going to tell you the same, because it leads directly to the theme of touching a ghost."

He poured himself some more tea and sipped awhile before continuing. "Life, as I told you, consists of a mass of particles, little worlds circling around little suns. The motion generates a substance which, for want of a better term, we will call 'electricity.' If we eat sensibly we can increase our rate of vibration. A sensible diet, none of the crank cult ideas, increases one's health, increases one's basic rate of vibration. So we come nearer to the ghost's rate of vibration." He stopped and lit a fresh stick of incense. Satisfied that the end was glowing satisfactorily, he turned his attention again to me.

The sole purpose of incense (røkelse) is to increase the rate of vibration of the area in which it is burned, and the rate of those within that area. By using the correct incense, for all are designed for a certain vibration, we can attain certain results. For a week I held myself to a rigid diet, one which increased my vibration or 'frequency.' For that week also I continually burned the appropriate incense in my room. At the end of that time I was almost 'out' of myself; I felt that I floated rather than walked, I felt the difficulty of keeping my astral form within my physical." He looked at me and smiled as he said, "You would not have appreciated such a restricted diet!" "No" I thought, "I would rather touch a square meal than any good ghost!"

"At the end of the week," said the Lama my Guide, "I went down to the Inner Sanctuary and burned more incense while I implored a ghost to come and touch me. Suddenly I felt the warmth of a friendly hand on my shoulder. Turning to see who was disturbing my meditation, I almost jumped straight out of my robe when I saw that I was being touched by the spirit of one who had 'died' more than a year ago." The Lama Mingyar Dondup stopped abruptly, then laughed out loud as he thought of that long-past experience.

"Lobsang!" he excialmed at last, "the old 'dead' lama laughed at me and asked me why I had gone to all that trouble, when all I had to do was to go into the astral! I confess that I felt mortified (ydmyket/krenket) beyond measure to think that such an obvious solution had escaped me. Now, as you well know, we do go into the astral to talk to ghosts and nature people." "of course, you spoke by telepathy," I remarked, "and I do not know of any explanation for telepathy. I do it, but how do I do it?"

"You ask the most difficult questions, Lobsang!" laughed my Guide. "The simplest things are the most difficult to explain. Tell me, how would you explain the process of breathing? You do it, everyone does it, but how does one explain the process?" I nodded glumly. I knew I was always asking questions, but that was the only way to get to know things. Most of the other chelas were not interested, as long as they had their food and not too 'much work they were satisfied. I wanted more, I wanted to know.

"The brain," said the Lama, "is like a radio set, like the device which that man Marconi is using to send messages across the oceans. The collection of particles and electrical charges which constitutes a human being, has the electrical, or radio, device of the brain to tell it what to do. When a person thinks of moving a limb (lem) , electric currents race out along the appropriate nerves to galvanise the muscles into the desired action. In the same way, when a person thinks, radio or electrical waves - actually they come from the higher part of the radio spectrum - are radiated from the brain. Certain instruments can detect the radiations and can even chart them into what the Western doctors term 'alpha, beta, delta, and gamma' lines." I nodded slowly, I had already heard of such things from the Medical Lamas.

"Now," my Guide continued, "sensitive persons can detect these radiations also, and can understand them. I read your thoughts, and when you try, you can read mine. The more two people are in sympathy, in harmony, with each other, the easier it is for them to read these brain radiations which are thoughts. So we get telepathy. Twins are often quite telepathic to each other. Identical twins, where the brain of one is a replica of the other, are so telepathic each to the other that it is often difficult indeed to determine which one originated a thought."

"Respected Sir," I said, "as you know, I can read most minds. Why is this? Are there many more with this particular ability?" "You, Lobsang," replied my Guide, "are especially gifted and specially trained. Your powers are being increased by every method at our command, for you have a difficult task in the Life ahead of you." He shook his head solemnly, "A difficult task indeed. In the Old Days Lobsang, Mankind could commune telepathically with the animal world. In the years to come, after Mankind has seen the folly of wars, the power will be regained; once again Man and Animal will walk in peace together, neither desiring to harm the other."

Below us a gong boomed and boomed again. There came the blare of trumpets, and the Lama Mingyar Dondup jumped to his feet, saying, "We must hurry, Lobsang, the Temple Service is about to commence, and His Holiness Himself will be there." I hastily rose to my feet, re-arranged my robe, and rushed after my Guide, now far down the corridor and almost out of sight.

Later in chapter 2 the description goes on - the theme is the spiritual world and first a visit to the local channel to the higher worlds - the oracle …: we passed a small temple within the main building, I heard "Hear the Voices of our Souls. This is the World of Illusion."

"Sir!" I said to my Guide when we were alone, "how is this the 'World of Illusion'?" He looked at me with a smile. "Well," he replied, "What is real? You touch this wall and your finger is stopped by the stone. Therefore you reason that the wall exists as a solid that nothing can penetrate. Beyond the windows the mountain ranges of the Himalayas stand firm as the backbone of the Earth. Yet a ghost, or you in the astral can move as freely Through the stone of the mountains as you can through the air." "But how is that 'illusion'?" I asked. "I had a dream last night which really was illusion; I feel pale even to think of it!" My Guide, with infinite patience, listened while I told of that dream and when I had finished my tale he said, "I shall have to tell you about the World of Illusion. Not for the moment, though, as we must first call upon the Oracle.

The State Oracle was a surprisingly young man, thin, and of very sickly appearance. I was presented to him and his staring' eyes burned straight through me, making tingles of fright race up and down my spine. "Yes! You are the one, I recognise you well," he said. "You have the power within; you shall have the knowledge also. I will see you later." The Lama Mingyar Dondup, my beloved friend, looked well pleased with me. "You pass every test, Lob-sang, every time!" he said. "Now come, we will retire to the Sanctuary of the Gods and talk." He smiled down at me as we walked along. "Talk, Lobsang," he remarked, "about the World of Illusion."

The Sanctuary was deserted, as my Guide knew in advance. Flickering lamps burned before the Sacred Images, causing thcir shadows to jump and move as though in some exotic dance. Incense smoke spiralled upwards to form a low lying cloud above us. Together we sat by the side of the Lectern from whence the Reader would read from the Sacred Books. We sat in the attitude of contemplation, legs crossed, and fingers entwined.

"This is the World of Illusion," said my Guide, "Wherefore we call to souls to hear us, for they alone are in the World of Reality. We say, as you well know, Hear the Voices of our Souls, we do not say Hear our Physical Voices. Listen to me, and do not interrupt, for this is the basis of our Inner Belief. As I shall explain later, people not sufficiently evolved must first have a belief which sustains them, makes them feel that a benevolent Father or Mother is watching over them. Only when one has evolved to the appropriate stage can one accept this which I shall now tell you." I gazed at my Guide, thinking that he was the whole world to me, wishing we could be always together.

"We are creatures of the Spirit," he said, "we are like electric charges endowed with intelligence. This world, this life, is Hell, it is the testing place wherein our Spirit is purified by the suffering of learning to control our gross flesh body. Just as a puppet is controlled by strings manipulated by the Puppet Master, so is our flesh body controlled by strings of electric force from our Overself, our Spirit. A good Puppet Master can create the illusion that the wooden puppets are alive, that they act, of their own volition (vilje) . In the same way we, until we learn better, consider that our flesh body is the only thing that matters. In the spirit-strangling atmosphere of the Earth we forget the Soul that truly controls us, we think that we do things of our own free will and are answerable only to our "conscience." So, Lobsang, we have the first Illusion, the illusion that the puppet, the flesh body, is the one that matters." He stopped at 'the sight of my puzzled expression. "Well?" he asked, "and what troubles you?"

"Sir!" I said, "where are my strings of electric force? I cannot see anything connecting me to my Overself!" He laughed as he replied, "Can you see air, Lobsang? Not while you are in the flesh body." Leaning forward he grasped my robe, nearly scaring the life out of me as I stared into his penetrating eyes. "Lobsang!" he said sternly, "have all your brains evaporated? Are you really bone from the neck up? Have you forgotten the Silver Cord, that collection of lines of electric force linking you here with your soul? (the young Lobsang had done many astraltravels by this time). Truly, Lobsang, you are in the World of Illusion!" I felt my face grow red.

Of course I knew about the Silver cord, that cord of bluish light which connects the physical body to the spirit body. Many times, when astral travelling, I had 'watched the Cord shimmering and pulsing with light and life. It was like the umbilical cord which connects the mother and the newborn child, only the 'child' which was the physical body could not exist for a moment if the Silver Cord was severed.

I looked up, my Guide was ready to continue after my interruption. "When we are in the physical world we tend to think that only the physical world matters. That is one of the safety devices of the Overself; if we remembered the Spirit World with its' happiness we would be able to remain here only by a strong effort of will. If we remembered past lives when, perhaps, we were more important than in this life, we should not have the necessary humility.

We will have 'some tea brought in and then I will show you, or tell you, of the life of a Chinaman from his death, to his rebirth and to his death and arrival in the Next World." The Lama stretched forth his hand to ring the small silver bell in the Sanctuary, then stopped at my expression. "Well?" he asked, "what is your question?" "Sir!" I answered, "why a Chinaman? Why not a Tibetan?" "Because," he replied, "if I say 'a Tibetan' you will try to associate the name with someone you know - with incorrect results." He rang the bell and a servant-monk brought us tea. My Guide looked at me thoughtfully. "Do you realise that in drinking this tea we are swallowing millions of worlds?" he asked. "fluids have a more sparsely molecular content If you could magnify the molecules of this tea you would find that they roll like the sands beside a turbulent lake. Even a gas, even the air itself is composed of molecules, of minute particles. However, that is a digression, we were going to discuss the death and life of a Chinaman." He finished his tea and waited while I finished mine.

"Seng was an old mandarin," said my Guide. "His life had been a fortunate one and now, in the evening of that life he felt a great contentment. His family was large, his concubines and slaves many. Even the Emperor of China himself had shown him favours. As his aged eyes peered short-sightedly through the window of his room he could dimly discern the beautiful gardens with the strutting peacocks. Softly to his failing ears came the song of birds returnmg to the trees as the day grew old. Seng lay back, relaxed upon his cushions. Within himself he could feel the rustling fingers of Death loosing his bonds with life. Slowly the blood red sun sank behind the ancient pagoda. Slowly Old Seng sank back upon his cushions, a harsh rattling breath hissing through his teeth. The sunlight faded, and the little lamps in the room were lighted, but Old Seng had gone, gone with the last dying rays of the sun." My Guide looked at me in order to be sure that I was following him, then continued,

"Old Seng lay slumped upon his cushions, with his body sounds creaking and wheezing into silence. No longer did blood rush through arteries and veins, no longer did body fluids gurgle within. The body of Old Seng was dead, finished with, of no more use. But a clairvoyant, if one had been present, would have seen a light blue haze form around the body of Old Seng. Form, then lift over the body, floating horizontally above, attached by the thinning Silver Cord. Gradually the Silver Cord thinned, and parted. The Soul which had been Old Seng floated off, drifted like a cloud of incense smoke, vanished effortlessly through the walls." The Lama refilled his cup, saw that I also had tea, then continued.

"The Soul drifted on through realms, through dimensions which the materialist mind cannot comprehend. At last it reached a wondrous parkland, dotted with immense buildings at one of which he stopped, here the Soul that had been Old Seng entered and made his way across a gleaming floor. A soul, Lobsang, in its own surroundings, is as solid as you are upon this world. The soul in the world of the soul, can be confined (begrenses) by walls, and walk upon a floor. The soul there has different abilities and talents from those we know upon the Earth. This Soul wandered on and at last entered a small cubicle. Sitting down, he gazed at the wall before him. Suddenly the wall appeared to vanish, and in its place he saw scenes, the scenes of his life. He saw that which we term The Akashic Record, which is the Record of all that has ever happened and which can be seen readily by those who are trained. It is also seen by everyone who passes from the Earth life to the life beyond, for Man sees the Record of his own successes and failures. Man sees his past and judges himself! There is no sterner judge than Man himself.(This is what is described in today-stories of "near-death-experiments", but remember that this was written in 1963 - long before such books appeared in the western countries. R.Ø.remark.) We do not sit trembling before a God; we sit and see all that we did and all that we meant to do."

I sat silent, I found all this of quite absorbing interest. I could listen to this for hours better than dull lessonwork!

"The Soul that had been Old Seng the Chinese Mandarin sat and saw again the life that he, upon Earth, had thought so successful," continued my Guide. "He saw, and sorrowed for his many faults, and then he rose and left the cubicle, going speedily to a larger room where men and women of the Soul World awaited him. Silently, smiling with compassion and understanding, they awaited his approach, his request to be guided. Sitting in their company he told them of his faults, of the things he had attempted to do, meant to do, and failed."

"But I thought you said he was not judged, he judged himself!" I said quickly. "That is so, Lobsang," replied my Guide. "Having seen his past and his mistakes, he now approached these Ad-visors in order to receive their suggestions - but do not interrupt, listen to me and save your questions for after.

"As I was saying," continued the Lama, "the Soul sat with the Advisors and told them of his failures, told them of the qualities which he had to 'grow' in to his Soul before he could evolve further. First would come the return to view his body, then would come a period of rest - years or hundreds of years - and then he would be helped to find conditions such as were essential for his further progress. The Soul that had been Old Seng went back to Earth to gaze finally upon his dead body, now ready for burial. Then, no longer the Soul of Old Seng, but a Soul ready for rest, he returned to the Land Beyond. For a time unspecified he rested and recuperated, studying the lessons of past lives, preparing for the life to come. Here, in this life beyond death, articles and substances were as solid to his touch as they had been on Earth. He rested until the time and conditions were pre-arranged."

"I like this!" I exclaimed, "I find it of great interest." My Guide smiled at me before continuing.

"At some pre-determined time, the Soul in Waiting was called and was led forth into the World of Mankind by one whose task was such service. They stopped, invisible to the eyes of those in the flesh, watching the parents-to-be, looking at the house, assessing the probabilities that this house would afford the desired facilities for learning the lessons which had to be learned this time. Satisfied, they withdrew. Months later the Mother-to-Be felt 'a sudden quickening inside her as the Soul entered and the Baby came to life. In time the Baby was born to the World of Man. The Soul that had once activated the body of Old Seng now struggled anew with the reluctant (motvillig) nerves and brain of the child Lee Wong living in humble (beskjeden) circumstances in a fishing village of China. Once again the high vibrations of a Soul were converted to the lower octave vibrations of a flesh body."

I sat and thought. Then I thought some more. At last I said, "Honourable Lama, as this is so, why do people fear death, which is but a release from the troubles of Earth?" "That is a sensible question, Lobsang," replied my Guide. "Did we but remember the joys of the Other World many of us would not be able to tolerate hardships here, wherefore we have implanted within us a fear of death." Giving me a quizzical sideways glance, he remarked, "Some of us do not like school, do not like the discipline so necessary at school. Yet when one grows up and becomes adult the benefits of school become apparent. It would not do to run away from school and expect to advance in learning; nor is it advisable to end one's life before one's allotted (tildelte) time." I wondered about this, because just a few days before an old monk, illiterate and sick, had thrown himself from a high hermitage. A sour old man he had been, with a disposition (gemytt) that made him refuse all offers of help. Yes, old Jigme was better out of the way, I thought. Better for himself. Better for others.

"Sir!" I said, "then the monk Jigme was at fault (skyldig) when he ended his own life?" "Yes, Lobsang, he was very much at fault," replied my Guide. "A man or woman has a certain allotted (tildelt) span upon the Earth. If one ends his or her life before that time, then he or she has to return almost immediately. Thus we have the spectacle of a baby born to live perhaps a few months only. That will be the soul of a suicide returning to take over the body and so live out the time, which should have been lived before. Suicide is never justified; it is a grave offence (overtredelse) against oneself, against one's Overself." "But Sir," I said, "how about the high born Japanese who commits ceremonial suicide in order to atone for family disgrace? Surely he is a brave man that he does that."

"Not so, Lobsang," my Guide was most emphatic. "Not so. Bravery consists not of dying but in living in face of hardship, in face of suffering. To die is easy, to live -that is the brave act! Not even the theatrical demonstration of pride in 'Ceremonial Suicide' can blind one to its wrongness. We are here to learn and we can only learn through living our allotted span. Suicide is never justified!" I thought again of old Jigme. He was very old when he killed himself, so when he came again, I thought, it would be for a short stay only.

"Honourable Lama," I asked, "what is the purpose of fear? Why do we have to suffer so much through fear? Already I haye discovered that the things I fear most never happen, yet I fear them still!" The Lama laughed and said, "That happens to us all. We fear the Unknown. Yet fear is necessary. Fear spurs us on when otherwise we should be slothful (dovenskap) . Fear gives us added strength with which to avoid accidents. Fear is a booster which gives us added power, added incentive (ansporenhet) , and makes us overcome our own inclination to laziness. You would not study your school work unless you feared the teacher or feared appearing stupid in front of others."


Monks were coming into the Sanctuary; chelas darted around lighting more butter lamps, more incense. We rose to our feet and walked out into the cool of the evening where a slight breeze played with the leaves of the willows. The great trumpets sounded from the Potala so far away, and dimly the echoes rolled around the walls of the State Oracle Lamasery.

Further some from page 46 where the wisdom and "the hidden knowledge" is the theme.

…. I gazed out of the window at the Himalayas stretching endlessly before me, thinking that soon the time would come when I should gaze upon them no more. I had received glimpses into the future - my future - and I dreaded the things, which I had not seen clearly but which had been partly veiled in smoke.

"Lobsang!" said my Guide, "you have seen much, but much more has remained hidden. if you feel that you can-not face the planned Future, then we will accept the fact -though sadly and you may remain in Tibet." "Sir!" I replied, "you once told me that the man who sets out upon one of Life's Paths, falters, and turns back, is no man. I will go ahead in spite of knowing the difficulties before me." He smiled, and nodded his approval. "As I expected," he said, "you will succeed in the end." "Sir!" I asked, "why do not people come to this world with a knowledge of what they have been in past lives and what they are supposed to do in this life? Why must there be what you term 'Hidden Knowledge'? Why cannot we all know every-thing?"

The Lama Mingyar Dondup raised his eyebrows and laughed. "You certainly want to know a lot!" he said. "You're memory is falling, too, quite recently I told you that we do not normally remember our past lives as to do so would be to increase our load upon this world. As we say, 'The Wheel of Life revolves, bringing riches to one and poverty to another. The beggar of today is the prince of tomorrow.' if we do not know of our past lives we all start afresh without trying to trade on what we were in our last incarnation." "But," I asked, "what about the Hidden Knowledge? if all people had that knowledge everyone would be better, would advance more quickly." My Guide smiled down at me. "It is not so simple as that!" he replied. For a moment he sat in silence, then he spoke again.

"There are powers within us, within the control of our Overself, immeasurably greater than anything that Man has been able to make in the material, the physical world. Western Man in particular would abuse such Powers as we can command, for all that Western Man cares about is money. Western Man has but two questions: can you prove it? And what do I get out of it?" He laughed quite boyishly and said, "I always feel most amused when I think of the vast array of mechanisms and apparatus which Man uses to send a 'wireless' message across the oceans. 'Wire-less' is the last term they should use, for the apparatus consists of miles and miles of wire. But here, in Tibet, our trained lamas send telepathic messages with no apparatus at all. We go into the astral and travel through space and time, visiting other parts of the world, and other worlds. We can levitate - lift immense loads by the application of powers not generally known. Not all men are pure; Lobsang, nor does a monk's robe always cover a holy man. There can be an evil man in a lamasery just as there can be a saint in prison." I looked at him in some puzzlement. "But if all men had this knowledge, surely they would all be good?" I asked.

The Lama looked at me sorrowfully as he replied. "We keep the Secret Knowledge secret in order that Mankind may be safeguarded. Many men, particularly those of the West, think only of money and of power over others. As has been foretold by the Oracle and others, this our land will later be invaded and physically conquered by a strange cult, a cult which has no thought for the common man, but exists solely in order to bolster up the power of dictators, dictators who will enslave half the world. (this conversation happened to take place about the year 1930. R.Ø.remark.) There have been high lamas who have been tortured to death by the Russians because the lamas would not divulge forbidden knowledge. The average man, Lobsang, who suddenly had access to forbidden knowledge, would react like this: first he would be fearful of the power now within his grasp. Then it would occur to him that he had the means of making himself rich beyond his wildest dreams. He would experiment, and money would come to him. With increasing money and power he would desire yet more money and power. A millionaire is never satisfied with one million, but wants many millions more! It is said that in the unevolved, absolute power corrupts. The Hidden Knowledge gives absolute power."

A great light dawned upon me; I knew how Tibet could be saved! Jumping up excitedly, I exclaimed, "Then Tibet is saved! The Hidden Knowledge will save us from invasion!" My Guide looked upon me with compassion. "No, Lobsang," he replied sadly, "we do not use the Powers for things like that Tibet will be persecuted, almost annihilated, but in the years to come she will rise again and become greater, purer. The country will be purified of dross in the furnace (smelteovn) of war just as, later, the whole world will be." He gave me a sideways glance. "There has to be wars, you know, Lobsang!" he said quietly. "if there were no wars the population of the world would become too great. If there were not wars there would be plagues. Wars and sickness regulate the population of the world and provide opportunities for people on the Earth - and on other worlds - to do good to others. There will always be wars until the population of the world can be controlled in some other way." (other messages from "the stars" - through direct contacts - says the same… R.Ø.anm.)

The gongs were summoning us to the evening service. My Guide the Lama Mingyar Dondup rose to his feet. "Come along, Lobsang," he said, "we are guests here and must show respect for our hosts by attending the service." We walked out of the room and went into the courtyard. The gongs were calling insistently - being sounded longer than would have been the case at chakpori. We made our surprisingly slow way to the Temple. I wondered at our slowness, then as I looked around I saw very aged men, and the infirm, hobbling across the courtyard in our footsteps. My Guide whispered to me, "It would be a courtesy, Lobsang, if you went across and sat with those chelas!" Nodding, I made my way round the inner walls of the Temple until I came to where the chelas of the State Oracle Lamasery were sitting. They eyed me with curiosity as I sat down to one side of them. Almost imperceptibly (umerkelig) , when the Proctors were not looking, they edged forward until they surrounded me.

"Where do you come from?" asked one boy, one who seemed to be the leader. "chakpori," I replied in a whisper. "You the fellow sent by the Inmost One (Dalei Lama)?" whispered another. "Yes," I whispered back, "I have been to see the Oracle, he told me…"

"SILENCE!" roared a fierce voice just behind me, "Not another sound out of you boys!" I saw the big man move away. "Ga!" said a boy, "don't take any notice of him, his bark is worse than his bite." Just then the State Oracle and an Abbot appeared through a small door at the side, and the service commenced.

Soon we were streaming out into the open again. With the others I went to the kitchen to have my leather barley (bygg) bag refilled and to get tea. There was no opportunity to talk; monks of all degree were standing about, having a last minute discussion before retiring for the night. I made my way to the room allotted (tildelt) to me, rolled myself in my robe and lay down to sleep. Sleep did not come quickly, though. I gazed out at the purple darkness, pin-pointed by the golden-flamed butter lamps. Far away the eternal Himalayas stretched rock-fingers skywards as if in supplication to the Gods of the World. Vivid white shafts of moonlight flashed through mountain crevices, to disappear and flash again as the moon climbed higher. There was no breeze tonight, the prayer flags hung listlessly from their poles. The merest trace of cloud floated indolently above the City of Lhasa. I turned over, and fell into a dreaminess sleep.

Later from page 53 - his Guide the Lama Mingyar Dondup says:

"most people come to this world in order to learn things - other come in order that they may assist those in need - or to complete some special highly important task." He looked sharply at me to make sure that I was following, then continued, "Many religions preach about a Hell, the place of punishment, or expiation for one's sins. Hell is here, on this world. Our real life is on the other World. Here we come to learn, to pay for mistakes made in previous lives or - as I said - to attempt the accomplishment of some highly important task. You are here to do a task in connection with the human aura. Your 'tools' will be an exceptionally sensitive psychic perception, a greatly intensified ability to see the human aura, and all the knowledge that we can give you concerning all the occult arts. The Inmost One has decreed that every possible means be used to increase your abilities and talents. Direct teaching, actual experiences, hypnotism, we are going to use them all in order that we may get the most knowledge into you in the shortest time."

"Hell it is, all right!" I exclaimed gloomily. The Lama laughed at my expression. "But this Hell is merely the stepping stone to a far better life," he replied. "Here we are able to get rid of some of the baser faults. Here, in a few years of Earth life, we shed faults, which may have plagued us in the Other World for countless spans of time. The whole life of this world is but the twinkling of an eye to that of the Other World. Most people in the West," he went on, "think that when one 'dies' one sits on a cloud and plays a harp. Others think that when one leaves this world for the next one they exist in a mystical state of nothingness and like it." He laughed and continued, "If we could only get them to realize that the life after death is more real than anything on Earth! Everything on this world consists of vibrations; the whole world's vibrations and everything within the world - may be likened to an octave on a musical scale. When we pass to the Other Side of Death the 'octave' is raised further up the scale." My Guide stopped, seized my hand and rapped my knuckles on the floor. "That, Lobsang," he said, "is stone, the vibrations which we term stone." Again he took my hand and rubbed my fingers on my robe. "That," he exclaimed, "is the vibration, which indicates wool. If we move everything up the scale of vibrations we still maintain the relative degrees of hardness and softness. So, in the Life after Death, the real Life, we can possess things just as we do on this world. Do you follow that clearly?" he asked

Obviously it was clear, I had known things like that for a very long time. The Lama broke into my thoughts. "Yes, I am aware that all this is common knowledge here, but if we vocalize these 'unspoken thoughts' we shall make it clearer in your mind. Later," he said, "you will journey to the lands of the Western world. There you will meet many difficulties through Western religions." He smiled somewhat wryly (skjevt) and remarked, "The Christians call us heathens (hedninger). In their Bible it is written that 'Christ wandered in the wilderness.' In our records it is revealed that Christ wandered throughout India, studying Indian religions, and then He came to Lhasa and studied at the Jo Kang under our foremost priests of that time. Christ formulated a good religion, but the Christianity practised today is not the religion that Christ produced." (The same things can be red in the TALMUD JMMANUEL. R.Ø.anm.)

My Guide looked at me somewhat severely and said, "I know you are a little bored by this, thinking I am talking for the sake of words, but I have travelled throughout the Western world and I have a duty to warn you of what you will experience. I can do that best by telling you of their religions, for I know you have an eidetic memory." I had the grace to blush (rødme) ; I had been thinking "too many words!"

Outside in the corridors monks were shush-shushing along toward the Temple to the evening service. On the roof above trumpeters looked out across the Valley and sounded the last notes of the dying day. Here, in front of me, my Guide the Lama Mingyar Dondup continued his talk. "There are two basic religions in the West but innumerable subdivisions. The Jewish religion is old and tolerant. You will have no trouble, no difficulties caused by Jews. For centuries they have been persecuted, and they have great sympathy and understanding for others. The Christians are not so tolerant, except on Sundays. I am not going to say anything about individual beliefs, you will read of them, but I am going to say how religions started.

"In the early days of life upon Earth," said the Lama, "people were first in little groups, very small tribes. There were no laws, no code of behaviour. Strength was the only law; a stronger and fiercer (barskere) tribe made war upon those weaker. In course of time a stronger and wiser man arose. He realized that his tribe would be the strongest if it were organised. He founded a religion and a code of behaviour. 'Be fruitful and multiply,' he commanded, knowing that the more babies were born the stronger would his tribe grow. 'Honour thy father and thy mother' he ordered, knowing that if he gave parents authority over their children he would have authority over the parents. Knowing too that if he could persuade children to feel indebted to their parents, discipline would be easier to enforce. 'Thou shalt not commit adultery' (ekteskapsbrudd) thundered the Prophet of that time. His real command was that the tribe should not be 'adulterated' with the blood of a member of another tribe, for in such cases there are divided loyalties. In course of time the priests found that there were some who did not always obey religious teachings. After much thought, much discussion, those priests worked out a scheme of reward and punishment. 'Heaven', 'Paradise,' 'Valhalla,' - term it what you will - for those who obeyed the priests. Hell fire and damnation with everlasting tortures for those who disobeyed."

"Then you are opposed to the organised religions of the West, Sir?" I asked. "No, most certainly not," replied my Guide, "there are many who feel lost unless they can feel or imagine an all-seeing Father peering (stirrende) down at them, with a Recording Angel ready to note any good deeds as well as bad! We are God to the microscopic creatures who inhabit our bodies, and the even smaller creatures that in-habit his molecules! As for prayer, Lobsang, do you often listen to the prayers of the creatures existing on your molecules?"

"But you said that prayer was effective," I responded with some astonishment. "Yes, Lobsang, prayer is very effective if we pray to our own overself, to the real part of us in another world, the part which controls our 'puppet strings'. Prayer is very effective if we obey the simple, natural rules which make it so."

He smiled at me as he said, "Man is a mere speck (bare en liten flekk) in a troubled world. Man is only comfortable when feeling safe in some form of 'Mother's embrace.' For those in the West, untrained in the art of dying, the last thought, the last cry, is 'Mother!' A man who is unsure of himself while trying to give an appearance of confidence - will suck a cigar or cigarette just as a baby will suck a dummy. Psychologists agree that the smoking habit is merely a reversion to the traits of early childhood where a baby drew nourishment and confidence from his mother. Religion is a comforter (narresmokk). Knowledge of the truth of life - and death - is of even greater comfort. We are like water when on Earth, like steam when we pass over in 'death' and we condense again to water when we are reborn to this world once more."

"Sir!" I exciaimed, "do you think that children should not honour their parents?" My Guide looked at me in some surprise; "Good gracious, Lobsang, of course children should pay respect to their parents - so long as the parents merit (fortjener) it. Over-dominant parents should not be permitted to ruin their children, though, and an adult 'child' certainly has first responsibility to his or her wife or husband. Parents should not be permitted to tyrannise and dictate to their adult offspring. To allow parents to act thus is to harm the parents as well as oneself; it makes a debt which the parents must pay in some other life." I thought of my parents. My stern and harsh father, a father who had never been a 'father' to me. My mother whose main thought was of the social life. Then I thought of the Lama Mingyar Dondup who was more than a mother and father to me, the only person who had shown me kindness and love at all times.

On page 61 they talk about God:

"Sir!" I said to my Guide the Lama Mingyar Dondup some hours later, "Sir! is there a God? Or Gods?" He looked down at me and said, "Let us go and sit on the roof, Lobsang, we can hardly talk here in this crowded place." He turned and led the way along the corridor, out through the Lamas' quarters, up the notched pole and so on to the roof. For a moment we stood looking at the well-loved scene, the towering mountain ranges, the bright water of the Kyi chu, and the reed-girt Kaling Chu. Beneath us the Norbu Linga, or Jewel Park, showed as a mass of living green. My Guide waved his hand. "Do you think all this is chance, Lobsang? Of course there is a God!" We moved to the highest part of the roof and sat down.

"You are confused in your thinking, Lobsang," stated my Guide. "There is a God; there are Gods. While upon this Earth we are in no position to appreciate (verdsette) the Form and Nature of God. We live in what may be termed a three-dimensional world. God lives in a world so far removed that the human brain while on earth, cannot hold the necessary concept of God and thus men tend to rationalise. 'God' is assumed to be something human, super-human if you prefer the term, but Man, in his conceit, believes that he is made in the Image of God! Man also believes that there is no life on other worlds. If Man is made in the Image of God and the peoples of other worlds are in a different image - what is to become of our concept that Man only is made in God's Image?" The Lama looked keenly at me to make sure that I was following his remarks. Most certainly I was; all this appeared self-evident.

"Every world, every country of every world, has its God, or Guardian Angel. We call the God in charge of the world the Manu. He is a highly evolved Spirit, a human who through incarnation after incarnation has purged the dross, leaving only the pure behind. There is a band of Great Beings who at times of need come to this Earth that they may set an example whereby ordinary mortals may be enabled to lift from the mire (søle) of worldly desires."

I nodded my head; I knew about this, knew that Buddha, Moses, Christ and many others were of that Order. I knew also of Maitreya, who, it is stated in the Buddhist Scriptures, will come to the world 5,656 million years after the passing of Buddha, or Gautama as He should more accurately be named. All this, and more, was part of our standard religious teaching as was the knowledge that any good person had an equal chance no matter what name his own religious belief carried. We never believed that only one religious sect "went to Heaven," and all others were tumbled down to Hell for the amusement of sundry sanguinary fiends. But my Guide was ready to continue.

"We have the Manu of the world, the Great Evolved Being who controls the destiny of the world. There are minor Manus who control the destiny of a country. In endless years, the World Manu will move on, and the next best, now well trained, will evolve, will take over the Earth."

"Ah!" I exclaimed in some triumph, "then not all Manus are good! The Manu of Russia is allowing Russians to act against our good. The Manu of China permits the Chinese to raid our borders and kill our people." The Lama smiled across at me. "You forget, Lobsang," he replied, "this world is Hell, we come here to learn lessons. We come here to suffer that our spirit may evolve. Hardship teaches, pain teaches, kindness and consideration do not. There are wars in order that men may show courage on the battle-fields and - like iron ore in the furnace - be tempered and strengthened by the fire of battle. The flesh body does not matter, Lobsang, that is only a temporary puppet. The Soul, the Spirit, the Overself (call it what you will) is all that need be considered. On Earth, in our blindness, we think that the body alone matters. Fear that the body may suffer clouds our outlook and warps our judgement. We have to act for the good of our own Overselves, while still assisting others. Those who follow blindly the dictates of overbearing parents add a load to the parents as well as to themselves. Those who blindly follow the dictates of some stereotyped religious belief also cramp their evolution."

"Honourable Lama!" I expostulated, "may I add two comments?" "Yes, you may," replied my Guide. "You said that we learn more quickly if conditions are harsh. I would prefer a little more kindness. I could learn that way." He looked thoughtfully at me. "Could you?" he asked. "Would you learn the Sacred Books even if you did not fear the teachers? Would you do your share in the kitchens if you did not fear punishment if you lazed? Would you?" I hung my head, it was right, I worked in the kitchens when ordered to. I studied the Sacred Books because I feared the result of failure. "And your next question?" asked the Lama. "Well, Sir, how does a stereotyped religion injure one's evolution?" "I will give you two examples," replied my Guide. "The Chinese believed that it did not matter what they did in this life as they could pay for faults and sins when they came again. Thus they adopted a policy of mental slothfulness (dovenskap) . Their religion became as an opiate (sovemiddel) and drugged them into spiritual laziness; they lived only for the next life, and so their arts and crafts fell into disuse. China thus became a third-rate power in which bandit war-lords started a reign of terror and pillage."

I had noticed that the Chinese in Lhasa seemed to be unnecessarily brutal and quite fatalistic. Death to them meant nothing more than passing to another room! I did not fear death in any way, but I wanted to get my task finished in one lifetime instead of slacking (avslapning) , and having to come to this World time after time. The process of being born, being a helpless baby, having to go to school, all that to me was trouble. I hoped that this life would be my last on Earth. The Chinese had had wonderful inventions, wonderful works of art, a wonderful culture. Now, through too slavishiy adhering to a religious belief, the Chinese people had become decadent, a ready prey to Communism. At one time age and learning had been deeply respected in China, as should be the case, now - no more were the sages given the honour due to them; all that mattered now was violence, personal gain and selfishness.

"Lobsang!" The voice of my Guide broke in to my thoughts. "We have seen a religion which taught inaction, which taught that one should not in any way influence an-other in case one added to one's own Kharma - the debt which passes on from life to life." He looked out across the City of Lhasa, seeing our peaceful Valley, then turned to me again. "Religions of the West tend to be very militant. People there are not content to believe what they want to believe, but they are willing to kill others to make them believe the same." "I don't see how killing a person would be good religious practice," I remarked. "No, Lobsang," replied the Lama, "but in the time of the Spanish Inquisition one branch of Christians tortured any other branch in order that they might be "converted and saved." People were stretched on the rack and burned at the stake that they might thus be persuaded to change their belief! Even now these people send out missionaries who try by almost any means to obtain converts. It seems that they are so unsure of their belief that they must have others express approval and agreement of their religion - on the lines, presumably, that there is safety in numbers!"

"Sir!" I said, "do you think people should follow a religion?" "Why, certainly, if they so desire," replied the Lama Mingyar Dondup. "If people have not yet reached the stage where they can accept the Overself, and the Manu of the World, then it may be a comfort for them to adhere to some formal system of religion. It is a mental and spiritual discipline, it makes some people feel that they belong within a family group, with a benevolent Father watching over them, and a compassionate Mother ever ready to intercede on their behalf with the Father. Yes, for those in a certain stage of evolution, such religion is good. But the sooner such people realise that they should pray to their Overself the sooner will they evolve. We are sometimes asked why we have Sacred Images in our Temples, or why we have Temples at all. To that we can reply that such Images are reminders that we too can evolve and in time become high Spiritual Beings. As for our Temples, they are places where people of like mind may congregate for the purpose of giving mutual strength in the task of reaching one's Overself. By prayer, even when that prayer be not properly directed, one is able to reach a higher rate of vibration. Meditation and contemplation within a Temple, a Synagogue, or Church is beneficial."

I mused (funderte på..) upon that which I had just heard. Below us the Kaling Chu(local river) tinkled and ran faster as it squeezed to crowd itself beneath the Bridge of the Lingkor Road. Off to the south I perceived a party of men waiting for the Ferryman of the Kyi Chu. Traders had come earlier in the day, bringing papers and magazines for my Guide. Papers from India, and from strange countries of the world. The Lama Mingyar Dondup had travelled far and often, and kept in close touch with affairs outside Tibet. Papers, magazines. I had a thought at the back of my mind. Something that had bearing on this discussion. Papers? Suddenly I jumped as if stung. Not papers, but a magazine! Something I had seen, now what was it? I knew! It was all clear to me; I had flicked over some pages, not understanding a single word of the foreign languages, but seeklng pictures. One such page had stopped beneath my questing thumb. The picture of a winged being hovering in the clouds, hovering above a field of bloody battle. My Guide, to whom I had shown the picture, had read and translated for me the caption (billedteksten) .

"Honourable Lama!" I exclaimed excitedly, "earlier today you told me of that Figure - you called it the Angel of Mons - which many men claimed to see above a battlefield. Was that a God?" "No, Lobsang," replied my Guide, "many many men, in the hour of their desperation, longed to see the figure of a Saint, or as they term it, an Angel. 'Their urgent need and strong emotions inherent in a battlefield gave strength to their thoughts, their desires, and their prayers. Thus, in the manner of which I have shown you, they formed a thought form to their own specifications. As the first ghostly outline of a figure appeared, the prayers and thoughts of the men who caused it were intensified, and so the figure gained' in strength and solidity and persisted for an appreciable time. We do the same thing here when we raise thought-forms' in the Inner Temple. But come, Lobsang, the day is far advanced and the Ceremonies of Logsar are not yet concluded."

We walked down the corridor, down into the scene of bustle, the busy turmoil which was the everyday life within a lamasery during a Season of Celebration. The Master of the Arts came in search of me, wanting a small, light boy to climb the scaffold and make some alterations to the head of a figure at the top. Trailing in the Master's wake, I followed him at a brisk pace down the slippery path to the Butter Room. I donned an old robe, one liberally coated with coloured butter, and tying a light line around my waist that I might haul up material, I climbed the scaffold. It was as the Master had surmised (antatt), part of the head had broken away from the wooden slats. Calling down what I wanted, I dangled my rope and pulled up a pail of butter. For some hours I worked, twisting slivers (fliser) of thin wood round the struts of the backing, molding once again the butter to hold the head in place. At long last, the Master of the Arts, watching critically from the ground, indicated that he was satisfied. Slowly, stiffly, I disentangled myself from the scaffolding (stillas) and slowly descended to the ground. Thankfully I changed my robe and hurried off.

The next day I and many other chelas were down on the Plain of Lhasa, at the foot of the Potala, by the Village of Shø. In theory we were watching the processions, the games, and the races. In actuality we were showing off in front of the humble pilgrims who thronged the mountain paths that they might be in Lhasa at the time of Logsar. From all over the Buddhist world they came, to this, the Mecca of Buddhism. Old men crippled with age, young women carrying small babies, all came in the belief that in completing the Holy Circuit of the City and the Potala, they were atoning for past sins and ensuring a good rebirth to the next life on Earth. Fortunetellers thronged the Lingkor Road, ancient beggars whined for alms, and traders with their goods suspended from their shoulders pushed their way through the throngs in search of customers. Soon I tired of the frenzied scene, tired of the gaping multitude and their endless, inane questions. I slipped away from my companions and slowly wandered up the mountain path to my lamastic home.


The hermits (eremittene)

Upon the roof, in my favourite spot, all was quiet. The sun provided a gentle warmth. From below me, now out of sight, there arose a confused murmur from the crowds, a murmur which in its indistinctness, soothed me and made me drowse in the noonday heat. A shadowy figure materialised almost at the extreme limit of my vision. Sleepily I shook my head and blinked my eyes. When I again opened them the figure was still there, clearer now and growing more dense. The hairs at the back of my neck rose in sudden fright. "You are not a ghost!" I exclaimed. "Who are you?" The Figure smiled slightly and replied, "No, my son, I am not a ghost. Once I too studied here at the Chakpori, and lazed as you are lazing now upon this roof. Then I desired above all to speed my liberation from Earthy desires. I had myself immured within the walls of that hermitage," he gestured upwards, and I turned to follow the direction of his outstretched arm. "Now," he continued, telepathically, "on this the eleventh Logsar since that date I have attained that which I sought; freedom to roam at will, while leaving my body safe within the hermitage cell. My first journey is to here, that I may 'once again gaze upon the crowd, that I may once again visit this well-remembered spot. Freedom, boy, I have attained freedom." Before my gaze he vanished like a cloud of incense dispersed by the night wind.

The hermitages (eneboerkammerne) ! We chelas had heard so much about them, what were they like inside? We often wondered. Why did men incarcerate themselves within those rock chambers, perched precariously upon the mountain's edge? We wondered about that too! I determined that I would ask my beloved Guide. Then I remembered that an old Chinese monk lived a few yards from where I was. Old Wu Hsi had had an interesting life; for some years he had been a monk attached to the Palace of the Emperors in Peking. Tiring of such life, he had wandered into Tibet in search of enlightenment. Eventually he had reached the Chakpori, and had been accepted. Tiring of that after a few years, he had gone to a hermitage and for seven years had lived the solitary life. Now, though, he was back at Chakpori waiting to die. I turned and hastened to the corridor below. Making my way to a small cell, I called to the old man.

"Come in! Come in!" he called in a high, quavering (skjelvende) voice. I entered his cell, and for the first time met Wu Hsi - the Chinese monk. He was sitting cross-legged and in spite of his age his back was as straight as a young bamboo. He had high cheekbones, and very very yellow, parchment-like skin. His eyes were jet black and slanted. A few straggly hairs grew from his chin, and from his upper lip depended a dozen or so hairs of his long moustache. His hands were yellow-brown, and mottled with great age, while his veins stood out like the twigs of a tree. As I walked toward him he peered blindly in my direction, sensing rather than seeing. "Hmm, hmm," he said, "a boy, a young boy from the way you walk. What do you want, boy?" "Sir!" I replied, "you lived for long in a hermitage. Will you, Holy Sir, have the goodness to tell me of it?" He mumbled and chewed at the ends of his moustache and then said, "Sit, boy, it is long since I talked of the past, although I think of it constantly now."

"When I was a boy," he said, "I travelled far and went to India. There I saw the hermits encloistered within their caves, and some of them appeared to have attained to enlightenment." He shook his head; "The ordinary people were very lazy, spending their days beneath the trees. Ah! It was a sad sight!" "Holy Sir!" I interrupted, "I should much prefer to hear of the hermitages of Tibet." "Eh? What's that?" he asked feebly. "Oh yes, the hermitages of Tibet. I returned from India and went to my native Peking. Life there bored me, for I was not learning. I took again my staff and my bowl and made my way, over many months, to the borders of Tibet." I sighed to myself in exasperation (sterk irritasjon) . The old man continued, "In course of time, after having stayed at lamasery after lamasery, always in search of enlightenment, I reached Chakpori. The Abbot permitted me to stay here as I was qualified as a physician in China. My speciality was acupuncture. For a few years I was content, then I conceived a great desire to enter a hermitage." By now I was almost dancing with impatience. If the old man took much longer I should be too late - I could not miss evening service!

Even as I thought of it, I could hear the first booming of the gongs. Reluctantly I rose to my feet and said, "Respected sir, I have to go now." The old man chuckled. "No, boy," he replied, "you may stay, for are you not here receiving instruction from an Elder Brother? Stay, you are excused from evening service." I seated myself again, knowing that he was correct; although he was still a trappa (sort of student), and not a lama, yet still he was considered as an Elder because of his age, his travels, and his experience. "Tea boy, tea!" he exclaimed, "we will have tea, for the flesh is frail and the weight of the years press heavily upon me. Tea, for the young and for the old." In response to his summons (tilkallelse), a Monk Attendant to the Aged brought us tea and barley. We mixed our tsampa, and settled down, he to talk and I to listen.

"The Lord Abbot gave me permission to leave Chakpori and enter a hermitage. With a monk-attendant I journeyed from this place and ascended in to the mountains. After five days of travel we reached a spot which may be ascerned from the roof above us." I nodded, I knew the place, a solitary (eneboer) building set high in the Himalayas. The old man continued, "This place was empty, the former occupant had recently died. The Attendant and I cleaned out the place then I stood and looked out across the Valley of Lhasa for the last time. I looked down at the Potala and at Chakpori, then turned and went into the inner chamber. The Attendant walled up the door, cementing it firmly, and I was alone." "But Sir! What is it like inside?" I asked.

Old Wu Hsi rubbed his head. "It is a stone building," he replied slowly. "A building with very thick walls. There is no door, once one is inside the inner chamber because the doorway is walled up. In the wall there is a trap (falldør), entirely lightproof, through which the hermit received food. A dark tunnel connects the inner chamber with the room wherein lives the Attendant. I was walled in. The darkness was so thick that I could almost feel it. Not a glimmer of light entered, nor could any sound be heard. I sat upon the floor and began my meditation. First I suffered from hallucinations, imagining that I saw streaks and bands of light. Then I felt the darkness strangling me as if I were covered in soft, dry mud. Time ceased to exist. Soon I heard, in my imaginati6n, bells, and gongs, and the sound of men chanting. Later I beat against the constraining walls of my cell, trying in my frenzy (opphisselse) to force a way out. I knew not the difference between day or night, for here all was as black and as silent as the grave. After some time I grew calm, my panic subsided."

I sat and visualised the scene, old Wu Hsi - young Wu Hsi then! - in the almost living darkness within the all-pervading silence. "Every two days," said the old man, "the attendant would come and place a little tsampa outside the trap. Come so silently that I could never hear him. The first time, feeling blindly for my food in the darkness, I knocked it off and could not reach it. I called and screamed, but no sound escaped from my cell; I just had to wait for another two days." "Sir!" I asked, "what happens if a hermit is ill, or dies?" "My boy," said old Wu Hsi, "if a hermit is ill - he dies. The attendant places food every two days for fourteen days. After fourteen days, if the food is still untouched, men come and break down the wall and take out the body of the hermit."

Old Wu Hsi had been a hermit for seven years. "What happens in a case like yours, when you have stayed for the time decided upon?" "I stayed for two years and then for seven. When it was almost time for me to come out the smallest of small holes was made in the ceiling so that a very minute shaft of light entered, Every few days the hole was enlarged, permitting more light to enter. At last I could withstand the full light of day. If the hermit is suddenly brought out into the light he is immediately struck blind as his eyes have been so long dilated in the darkness that they can no longer contract. When I came out I was white, bleached white, and my hair was as white as the mountain snows. I had massage and did exercise, for my muscles were almost useless with disuse. Gradually I recovered my strength until at last I was able with my attendant to descend the mountain to reside again at Chakpori."

I pondered his words, thinking of the endless years of darkness, of utter silence, thrown upon his own resources, and I wondered, "What did you learn from it, Sir?" I asked at last, "was it worth it?" "Yes, boy, yes, it was worth it!" said the old monk. "I learned the nature of life, I learned the purpose of the brain. I became free of the body and could send my spirit soaring afar just as you do now in the astral." "But how do you know that you did not imagine it? How do you know you were sane? Why could you not travel in the astral as I do?" Wu Hsi laughed until the tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks. "Questions - questions -questions, boy, just as I used to ask them!" he replied.

"First I was overcome by panic. I cursed (forbannet) the day I became a monk, cursed the day I entered the cell. Gradually I was able to follow the breathing patterns and to meditate. At the start I had hallucinations, vain imaginings. Then one day I slipped free of my body and the darkness was dark no more to me. I saw my body sitting in the attitude of meditation. (from the astral body one can see independent of light). I saw my sightless, staring, wide-open eyes. I saw the pallor of my skin and the thinness of my body. Rising, I passed through the roof of the cell and saw below me the Valley of Lhasa. I saw certain alterations, saw people with whom I was acquainted and, passing into the Temple, I was able to converse with a telepathic lama who confirmed my release for me. I wandered far and wide and beyond the borders of this country. Every two days I returned and entered my body, re-animating (besjelet den) it that I might eat and nourish it." "But why could you not do astral travelling without all that preparation?" I asked again.

"Some of us are very ordinary mortals. Few of us have the special ability given to you by virtue of the task you have to undertake. You too have travelled far by the astral way. Others, such as I, have to endure solitude (ensomhet) and hardship before one's spirit can break free from the flesh. You, boy, are one of the fortunate ones, one of the very fortunate ones!" The old man sighed, and said, "Go! I must rest, I have talked long. Come and see me again, you will be a welcome visitor in spite of your questions." He turned away, and with a muttered word of thanks I rose to my feet, bowed, and slipped quietly from the room. I was so busy thinking that I walked straight into the opposite wall and almost knocked my spirit out of my body. Rubbing my aching head, I walked sedately along the corridor until I reached my own cell.

The midnight service was almost over. Monks were fidgeting slightly, ready to hurry off for a few more hours of sleep before returning. The old Reader up on the podium carefully inserted a marker between the pages of the Book and turned in readiness to step down. Sharp eyed proctors, ever alert for disturbances, or for inattentive (uoppmerksomme) small boys, relaxed their gaze. The service was almost over. Small chelas swung the censers for the last pass, and there was the barely suppressed hum of a large gathering preparing to move. Suddenly there was an ear-splitting screech (øredøvende, skingrende skrik), and a wild figure bounded over the heads of the sitting monks and tried to seize (gripe) a young trappa holding two sticks of incense. We jerked upright with shock. Before us the wild figure whirled and spun, foam flying from writhing lips, hideous screams pouring from tortured throat. For a moment of time the world seemed to stand still; police-monks frozen into immobility with surprise, officiating (forrettende-) priests standing with arms upraised. Then violently, the proctors (inspektørene) swung into action. Converging on the mad figure, they quickly subdued him, winding his robe about his head to silence the evil oaths (ed/banning), which streamed in a torrent (strøm) from his mouth. Efficiently, speedily, he was lifted and removed from the Temple. The service ended. We rose to our feet and hastened out, anxious to get beyond the Temple bounds so that we could discus that which we had just seen.

"That's Kenji Tekeuchi," said a young trappa near me. "He is a Japanese monk who has been visiting everywhere." "Been around the world, so they say," added another. "Searching for Truth, and hoping to get it handed to him instead of working for it," remarked a third. I wandered off, somewhat troubled in mind. Why should 'Searching for Truth' make a man mad? The room was cold, and I shivered slightly as I wrapped my robe around me and lay down to sleep. It seemed that no time at all had elapsed before the gongs were booming again for the next service. As I looked through the window I saw the first rays of the sun come over the mountains, rays of light like giant fingers probing the sky, reaching for the stars. I sighed, and hurried down the corridor, anxious not to be the last one to enter the Temple and thus merit the wrath of the proctors.

"You are looking thoughtful, Lobsang," said my Guide the Lama Mingyar Dondup when I saw him later' in the day, after the noon service. He motioned for me to sit.

"You saw the Japanese monk, Kenji Tekeuchi, when he entered the Temple. I want to tell you about him, for later' you will meet him." I settled myself more comfortably, this was not going to be a quick session - I was 'caught' for the rest of the day! The Lama smiled as he saw my expression. "Perhaps we should have Indian tea . . . and Indian sweetcakes . . . to sugar the pill, Lobsang, eh?" I brightened up a bit, and he chuckled and said, "The attendant is bringing it now, I expected you!" "Yes," I thought, as the monk-servant entered, "where else would I have such a Teacher?" The cakes from India were my special favourites, and even the Lama's eyes sometimes widened with astonishment at the number I could 'put away'!

"Kenji Tekeuchi," said my Guide, "is - was - a very versatile (allsidig) man. A well travelled one. Throughout his life (he is now over seventy) he has wandered the world in search of what he calls 'Truth'. Truth is within him, yet he knows it not. Instead he has wandered, and wandered again. Always he has been studying religious beliefs, always he has been reading the books of many lands in pursuit of this search, this obsession. Now, at long last, he has been sent to us. He has read so much of a conflicting nature that his aura is contaminated. He has read so much and understood so little that most of the time he is insane (sinnsyk). He is a human sponge, mopping up all knowledge and digesting very little." "Then, Sir!" I exclaimed, "you are opposed (er imot..) to book-study?" "Not at all, Lobsang," replied the Lama, "I am opposed, as are all thinking men, to those who obtain the brochures, the pamphlets (småbøker), and the books written about strange cults, about so-called occultism. These people poison their soul, they make further progress impossible for them until they have shed all the false knowledge and become as a little child."

"Honourable Lama," I asked, "how does one become insane; how does wrong reading sometimes lead to confusion?" "That is quite a long story," replied the Lama Mingyar Dondup. "First we have to deal with some fundamentals. Possess yourself in patience and listen! Upon Earth we are as puppets, puppets made of vibrating molecules surrounded by an electric charge. Our Overself vibrates at a very much higher rate, and has a very much higher electric charge. There is a definite relationship between our rate of vibration and that of our Overself. One can liken the process of communication between each one of us on this Earth and our Overself elsewhere to a new process on this world ("new process" - remember this was said almost 100 years ago), the process whereby radio waves are sent across continents and seas, thus enabling a person in one country to communicate with a person in a far distant land. Our brains are similar to radio receivers in that they receive the 'high frequency' messages, orders and instructions, from the Overself and turn them into low frequency impulses which control our actions.

The brain is the electromechanical-chemical device, which makes us useful on Earth. Chemical reactions cause our brain to function in a faulty manner by perhaps blocking part of a message, for rarely, on Earth, do we receive the exact message 'broadcast' by the Overself. The Mind is capable of limited action without reference to the Overself. The Mind is able to accept certain responsibilities, form certain opinions, and attempts to bridge the gap between the 'ideal' conditions of the Overself and the difficult ones of Earth."

"But do Western people accept the theory of electricity in the brain?" I asked. "Yes," replied my Guide, "in certain hospitals the brain waves of patients are charted, and it has been found that certain mental disorders have a characteristic brain-wave pattern. Thus, from the brain waves it can be stated that a person does or does not suffer from some mental disease or illness. Often an illness of the body will send certain chemicals to the brain, contaminate its wave-form, and thus give symptoms of insanity."

"Is the Japanese very mad?" I asked. "Come! We will see him now, he has one of his lucid spells (-sine klare perioder)." The Lama'Mingyar Dondup rose to his feet and hurried from the room. I jumped to my feet and sped after him. He led the way on

down the corridor, down to another level, and to a distant wing where lodged those undergoing medical treatment. In a little alcove, overlooking the Khati Linga, the Japanese monk sat looking moodily (lunefull) outwards. At the approach of the Lama Mingyar Dondup he rose to his feet, clasped his hands and bowed low. "Be seated," said my Guide. "I have brought a young man to you that he may listen to your words. He is under special instruction by order of the Inmost One." The Lama bowed, turned and left the alcove. For some moments the Japanese stared at me, then motioned for me to sit. I sat - at a discreet distance, as I did not know when he would become violent!

"Do not cram your head with all the occult stuff you can read, boy!" said the Japanese monk. "It is indigestible (ufordøylig) matter which will impede (forsinke) your spiritual progress. I studied all the Religions. I studied all the metaphysical cults, which I could find. It poisoned me, clouded my outlook, led me to believe that I was a Specially Chosen One. Now my brain is impaired and at times I lose control of myself -escape from the direction of my Overself." "But Sir!" I exclaimed, "how may one learn if one may not read? What possible harm can come of the printed word?" "Boy!" said the Japanese monk, "certainly one may read, but choose with care what you read and make sure that you quite understand that which you are reading. There is no danger in the printed word, but there is danger in the thoughts which those words may cause. One should not eat everything, mixing the compatible with the incompatible; nor should one read things which contradict or oppose others, nor should one read things which promise occult powers. It is easily possible to make a Thought-form which one cannot control, as I did, and then the Form injures one." "Have you been to all the countries of the world?" I asked. The Japanese looked at me, and a slight 'twinkle appeared in his eyes.

"I was born in a small Japanese village," he said, "and when I was old enough I entered Holy Service. For years I studied religions and occult practices. Then my Superior told me to leave and to travel in countries far beyond the oceans. For fifty years I have travelled from country to country, from continent to continent, always studying. By my thoughts I have created Powers which I could not control. Powers that live in the astral plane and which at times affect my Silver Cord. Later maybe I shall be permitted to tell you more. For the present, I am still weak from the last attack and thus must rest. With the permission of your Guide you may visit me at a later date." I made my bows and left him alone in the alcove. A medical monk, seeing me leave, hastened in to him. Curiously I peeped (tittet) about me, peeped at the old monks lying there in this part of the Chakpori. Then, in response to an urgent telepathic call, I hastened away to my Guide, the Lama Mingyar Dondup.



I hurried along the corridors, rushing round corners to the peril of those who got in' my way. An old monk grabbed me in passing, shook me, and said, "It is not good to have this unseemly haste, boy, it is not the way of the true Buddhist!" Then he peered into my face, recognised me as the ward (--under oppsyn av) of the Lama Mingyar Dondup. With a muttered sound that appeared to be "ulp!" he dropped me like a hot coal and hastened on his way. I sedately followed my own course. At the entrance to my Guide's room I stopped with such a jerk that I almost fell over; with him were two very senior abbots. My conscience was giving me a very bad time; what had I done now? Worse, which of my many 'sins' had been discovered? Senior abbots did not wait for small boys unless it was bad news for the small boys. My legs felt distinctly rubbery and I ransacked my memory to see if I had done anything that could cause my expulsion from Chakpori. One of the abbots looked at me and smiled with the warmth of an old iceberg. The other looked toward me with a face that seemed carved from a piece of the Himalayas. My Guide laughed. "You certainly have a guilty conscience, Lobsang. Ah! These Reverend Brother Abbots are also telepathic lamas," he added with a chuckle.

The grimmer (den morskeste) of the two abbots looked hard at me, and in a voice reminiscent of falling rocks said, "Tuesday Lob-sang Rampa, The Inmost One has caused investigation to be made whereby it has been determined that you be Recognised as the present Incarnation of . . ."

My head was a awhirl, I could hardly follow what he was saying, and barely caught his concluding remarks, " . . . and the style; rank, and title of Lord Abbot be conferred upon you by virtue of this at a ceremony the time and place of which shall be determined at a later occasion." The two abbots bowed solemnly to the Lama Mingyar Dondup, and then bowed as solemnly to me. Picking up a book, they filed out and gradually the sound of their footfalls became no more. I stood as one dazed, gazing down the corridor after them. A hearty laugh, and the clasp of a hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present. "Now you know what all the running about was for. The tests have merely confirmed what we knew all the time. It calls for a special celebration between you and me, then I have some interesting news for you." He led me into another room, and there was spread a real Indian meal. Without any need to be encouraged, I set to!

The Cave of the Ancients

Later, when I could eat no more, when even the sight of the remaining food made me feel queasy, my Guide rose and led the way back into the other room. "The Inmost One has given me permission to tell you about the Cave of the Ancients," he said, immediately adding, "rather, the Inmost One has suggested that I tell you about it." He gave me a sideways glance, then almost in a whisper, remarked, "We are sending an expedition there within a few days." I felt the excitement surge through me and had the impossible impression that perhaps I was going "home" to a place I had known before.

My Guide was watching me very closely indeed. As I looked up, under the intensity of his gaze, he nodded his head. "Like you, Lobsang, I had special training, special opportunities. My own Teacher was a man who long ago passed from this life, whose empty Shell is even now in the Hall of Golden Images. With him I travelled extensively throughout the world. You, Lobsang, will have to travel alone. Now sit still and I will tell you of the finding of the Cave of the Ancients." I wet my lips, this was what I had wanted to hear for some time. In a lamasery, as in every community, rumours were often spread in confidential corners. Some rumours were selfevident as rumours and nothing more. This, though, was different, somehow I believed what I had heard.

"I was a very young lama, Lobsang," commenced my Guide. "With my Teacher and three young lamas we were exploring some of the remoter mountain ranges. Some weeks before there had been an extraordinary loud bang, followed by a heavy rock-fall. We were out to investigate matters. For days we had prowled (streifet omkring) round the base of a mighty rock pinnacle. Early on the morning of the fifth day my Teacher awakened, yet was not awake; he appeared to be in a daze (være fortumlet). We spoke to him and received no answer. I was overcome by worry, thinking that he was ill, wondering how we should get him down the endless miles to safety. Sluggishly(tregt), as if in the grip of some strange power, he struggled to his feet, fell over, and at last stood upright. Stumbling, Sluggishly, and moving like a man in a trance, he moved ahead. We followed almost in fear and trembling(skjelvende). Up the steep rock face we climbed, with showers of small stones raining down upon us. At last we reached the sharp edge of the range top and stood peering (stirrende) over.

I experienced a feeling of deep disappointment; before us was a small valley now almost filled with huge boulders (kjempesteiner). Here, evidently was where the rock fall had originated. Some rock-fault had developed, or some Earth tremor had occurred which had dislodged (revet løs) part of the mountainside. Great gashes (flenger) of newly exposed rock glared at us in the bright sunlight. Moss and lichen (mose og lav hang ned..) drooped disconsolately now deprived of any support. I turned away in disgust (misnøye) . There was nothing here to engage my attention, nothing but a rather large rock-fall. I turned to start the descent, but was immediately halted by a whispered 'Mingyar!' One of my companions was pointing. My Teacher, still under some strange compulsion (tvang/ledelse), was edging down the mountainside." I sat enthralled (fengslet), my Guide stopped talking for a moment and took a sip of water, then continued.

"We watched him with some desperation. Slowly he climbed down the side, toward the rock-strewn floor of the little valley. We reluctantly (motvillig) followed, expecting every moment to slip on that dangerous range. At the bottom, my Teacher did not hesitate, but picked a careful way across the immense boulders, until at last he reached the other side of the stone valley. To our horror he commenced (startet) to climb upwards, using hand and foot holds which were invisible to us a few yards behind him. We followed reluctantly. There was no other course open to us, we could not return and say that our senior had climbed from us, that we were afraid to follow him - dangerous though the climb was. I climbed first, picking a very careful way. It was hard rock, the air was thin. Soon the breath was rasping in my throat and my lungs were filled with a harsh, dry ache (smerte). Upon a narrow ledge (hylle) perhaps five hundred feet (160m) from the valley, I lay stretched out, gasping for breath. As I glanced up, preparatory (forberedende til å fortsette..) to resuming the climb, I saw the yellow robe of my Teacher disappear over a ledge high above. Grimly I clung to the mountain face, edging ever upwards. My companions, as reluctant as I, followed behind. By now we were clear of the shelter afforded by the small valley, and the keen wind was whipping our robes about us. Small stones pelted down and we were hard put to keep going." My Guide paused a moment to take another sip of water and to look to see that I was listening. I was!

"At last," he continued, "I felt a ledge level with my questing fingers. Taking a firm grip, and calling to the others that we had reached a place where we could rest, I pulled myself up. There was a ledge, sloping slightly down towards the back and so quite invisible from the other side of the mountain range. At first glance the ledge appeared to be about ten feet wide. I did not stop to see further, but knelt so that I could help the others up, one by one. Soon we stood together, shivering in the wind after our exertion. Quite obviously the rock fall had uncovered this ledge, and - as I peered more closely, there was a narrow crevice (fjellsprekk) in the mountain wall. Was there? From where we stood it might have been a shadow, or the stain (flekk) of dark lichen. As one, we moved forward. It was a crevice, one that was about two feet six inches wide by about five feet high. Of my Teacher there was no sign." I could visualise the scene well. But this was not the time for introspection (selvanalyse). I did not want to miss a word!

"I stepped back to see if my Teacher had climbed higher," my Guide went on, "but there was no sign of him. Fearfully I peered (tittet) into the crevice. It was as dark as the grave. Inch by inch, painfully bent, I moved inside. About fifteen feet (5m) in I turned a very sharp corner, another, and then another. Had I not been paralysed with fright I would have screamed with surprise; here was light, a soft silvery light, brighter than the brightest moonlight. Light that I had never seen before. The cave in which I now found myself was spacious, with a roof invisible in the darkness above. One of my companions pushed me out of the way and was in turn pushed by another. Soon the four of us stood silent and frightened - gazing at the fantastic sight before us. A sight, which would have made any one of us alone, think that he had taken leave of his senses. The cave was more like an immense hall, it stretched away in the distance as if the mountain itself was hollow. The light was everywhere, beating down upon us from a number of globes which appeared to be suspended from the darkness of the roof. Strange machines crammed the place, machines such as we could not have imagined. Even from the high roof depended apparatus and mechanisms. Some, I saw with great amazement, were covered by what appeared to be the clearest of glass." My eyes must have been round with amazement, for the Lama smiled at me before resuming his story.

"By now we had quite forgotten my Teacher, when he suddenly appeared we jumped straight off the ground in fright! He chuckled at our staring eyes and stricken faces. Now, we saw, he was no longer in the grip of that strange, overpowering (overmannende tvang) compulsion. Together we wandered round looking at the strange machines. To us they had no meaning, they were just collections of metal and fabric (struktur) in strange, exotic form. My Teacher moved toward a rather large black panel apparently built into one of the walls of the cave.

As he was about to feel its surface it swung open. By now we were almost at the point of believing that the whole place was bewitched, or that we had fallen prey to some hallucinating force. My Teacher jumped back in some alarm. The black panel swung shut. Greatly daring one of my companions stretched out his hand and the panel swung open again. A force which we could not resist propelled us forward. Uselessly fighting against every step, we were -somehow - made to enter through the panel doorway. Inside it was dark, as dark as the darkness of a hermit's cell. Still under the irresistible compulsion (tvang), we moved in many feet and then sat on the floor. For minutes we sat shivering with fright. As nothing happened we regained some calmness, and then we heard a series of clicks, as if metal were tapping and scraping on metal." Involuntarily I shivered. I had the thought that I probably would have died of fright! My Guide continued.

"Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a misty glow formed in the darkness before us. At first it was just a suspicion of blue-pink light, almost as if a ghost were materialising before our gaze. The mistlight spread, becoming brighter so that we could see the outlines of incredible machines filling this large hall, all except the centre of the floor upon which we sat. The light drew in upon itself, swirling, fading, and becoming brighter and then it formed and remained in spherical shape. I had the strange and unexplainable impression of age-old machinery creaking slowly into motion after eons of time. The five of us huddled together on the floor, literally spellbound. There came a probing inside my brain, as if demented telepathic lamas were playing, then the impression changed and became as clear as speech."

My Guide cleared his throat, and reached again for a drink, staying his hand in mid-air. "Let us have tea, Lobsang," he said as he rang his silver bell. The monk-attendant obviously knew what was wanted, for he came in with tea - and cakes!

"Within the sphere of light we saw pictures," said the Lama Mingyar Dondup, "hazy at first, they soon cleared and ceased to be pictures. Instead we actually saw the events." I could contain myself no longer: "But Honour-able Lama, what did you see?" I asked in a fever of impatience. The Lama reached forward and poured himself more tea. It occurred to me then that I had never seen him eat those Indian sweet cakes. Tea, yes, he drank plenty of tea, but I had never known him take anything but the most sparing and the plainest of food. The gongs went for temple service, but the Lama did not stir. When the last of the monks had hurried by he sighed deeply, and said, "Now I will continue."


He resumed, "This is what we saw and heard, and you shall see and hear in the not too distant future. Thousands and thousands of years ago there was a high civilization upon this world. Men could fly through the air in machines, which defied (trosset) gravity; men were able to make machines which would impress thoughts upon the minds of others - thoughts which would appear as pictures. They had nuclear fission, and at last they detonated a bomb which all but wrecked the world, causing continents to sink below the oceans and others to rise. The world was decimated, and so, throughout the religions of this Earth, we now have the story of the Flood'." I was unimpressed by this latter part. "Sir!" I exclaimed, "we can see pictures like that in the Akashic Record. Why struggle up dangerous mountains just to see what we can more easily experience here?" "Lobsang," said my Guide gravely, "we can see all in the astral and in the Akashic Record, for the latter contains the knowledge of all that has happened. We can see but we cannot touch. In astral travel we can go places and return, but we cannot touch anything of the world. We cannot," he smiled slightly, "take even a spare robe nor bring back a flower. So with the Akashic Record, we can see all, but we cannot examine in close detail those strange machines stored in those mountain halls. We are going to the mountains, and we are going to examine the machines."

"How strange," I said, "that these machines should of all the world be only in our country!" "Oh! But you are wrong!" explained my Guide. "There is a similar chamber at a certain place in the country of Egypt. There is another chamber with identical machines located in a place called South America. I have seen them, I know where they are. These secret chambers were concealed by the peoples of old so that their artifacts would be found by a later generation when the time was ready. This sudden rock fall accidentally bared the entrance to the chamber in Tibet, and once inside we gained the knowledge of the other chambers. But the day is far advanced. Soon seven of us -and that includes you - will set out and journey once again to the Cave of the Ancients."

For days I was in a fever of excitement. I had to keep my knowledge to myself. Others were to know that we were going to the mountains on a herb-gathering expedition. Even in such a secluded place as Lhasa there were always those on the constant lookout for financial gain; the representatives of other countries such as China, Russia, and England, some missionaries, and the traders who came from India, they were all ready to listen to where we kept our gold and our jewels, always ready to exploit anything that promised a profit for them. So - we kept the true nature of our expedition very secret indeed.

Some two weeks after that talk with the Lama Mingyar Dondup, we were ready to depart, ready for the long, long climb up the mountains, through little known ravines and craggy paths. The Communists are now in Tibet, so the location of the Cave of the Ancients is deliberately being concealed, for the Cave is a very real place indeed, and possession of the artifacts there would permit the Communists to conquer the world. All this, all that I write is true, except the exact way to that Cave. In a secret place the precise area, complete with references and sketches, has been noted on paper so that - when the time comes - forces of freedom can find the place.

Slowly we descended the path from Chakpori Lamasery and made our way along to the Kashya Linga, passing that Park as we followed the road down to the ferry where the boatman was waiting for us with his inflated yak-hide boat drawn to the side. There were seven of us, including me, and the crossing of the River - the Kyi Chu - took some time. Eventually we were together again on the far bank. Shouldering our loads, food, rope, a spare robe each, and a few metal tools, we set out towards the south-west. We walked until the setting sun and lengthening shadows made it difficult for us to pick our way across the stony path. Then, in the gathering darkness, we had a modest meal of tsampa before settling down to sleep in the lee side of great boulders. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head rested upon my spare robe. Many Tibetan monks of lama grade slept sitting up, as the regulations prescribe. I, and many more slept lying down, but we had to follow the rule that we could sleep only if lying on the right side. My last sight before dropping off to sleep, was that of the Lama Mingyar Dondup sitting like a carved statue against the dark night sky.

At the first light of the dawning day we awakened and had a very frugal (enkelt) meal, then taking up our loads, we marched on. For the whole day we walked, and for the day after. Passing the foothills, we came to the really mountainous ranges. Soon we were reduced to roping ourselves together and sending the lightest man - me! - across dangerous crevices (sprekker) first so that the ropes could be secured to rock pinnacles and thus afford safe passage to the heavier men. So we forged on, climbing up into the mountains. At last, as we stood at the foot of a mighty rock-face, almost devoid of hand and foot holds, my Guide said, "Over this slab (plate), down the other side, across the little valley which we shall find, and we are then at the foot of the Cave." We prowled (streifet) round the base of the slab, looking for a hand hold. Apparently other rock falls throughout the years had small ledges and clefts. After wasting almost a day we found a "chimney" of rock up which we climbed using hands and feet and wedging our backs against the other side of the "chimney". Gasping and puffing in the rarefied air, we climbed to the top and looked over. At last before us was the valley. Staring intently at the far wall we could discern no cave, no fissure in the smooth rock surface. The valley below us was littered with great boulders and far worse a rushing mountain stream poured along the centre.

Gingerly we climbed down to the valley and made our way to the banks of that fast-running stream until we came to a part where great boulders afforded a precarious passage for those with the ability to leap from rock to rock. I, being the smallest, had not the length of leg for the jumps, and so was ignominiously hauled through the icy torrent' at the end of a rope. Another unfortunate, a small somewhat rotund lama, jumped short - and he too was hauled out at the end of a rope. On the far bank we wrung out our soaked robes, and put them on again. Spray made all of us wet to the skin. Picklng our way cautiously over the boulders, we crossed the valley and approached the final barrier, the rock slab. My Guide, the Lama Mingyar Dondup, pointed to a fresh rock scar. "Look!" he said, "a further rock fall has knocked off the first ledge by which we climbed." We stood well back, trying to get a view of the ascent before us. The first ledge was about twelve feet above the ground, and there was no other way. The tallest and sturdiest lama stood with his arms outstretched, bracing himself against the rock face, then the lightest of the lamas climbed on to his shoulders and similarly braced himself. At last I was lifted up so that I could climb on to the shoulders of the top man. With a rope around my waist, I eased myself on to the ledge.

Below me the monks called directions, while slowly, almost dying with fright, I climbed higher until I could loop the end of the rope around a projecting pinnacle of rock. I crouched to the side of the ledge as one after the other, the six lamas climbed the rope, passed me, and continued upwards. The last one untied the rope, coiled it around his waist, and followed the others. Soon the end of the rope dangled before me, and a shout warned me to tie a loop about myself so that I could be hauled up. My height was not sufficient to reach all the ledges unaided. I rested again at a much higher stage, and the rope was carried upwards. At last I was hauled (halt) to the topmost ledge where the others of the party awaited me. Being kind and considerate men, they had waited for me so that we could all enter the Cave together, and I confess that my heart warmed at their thoughtfulness. "Now we have hauled up the Mascot we can continue!" growled one. "Yes," I replied, "but the smallest one had to move first or you would not be here!" They laughed, and turned to the well-concealed crevice.

I looked in considerable astonishment. At first I could not see the entrance, all I saw was a dark shadow looking much like a dried-up watercourse, or the stain of minute lichen. Then, as we crossed the ledge, I saw that there was indeed a crack in the rock face. A big lama grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me into the rock fissure saying, good-naturedly, "You go first, and then you can chase out any rock devils and so protect us!" So I, the smallest and least important of the party, was the first to enter the Cave of the Ancients. I edged inside, and crept round the rock corners. Behind me I heard the shuffle and scrape as the bulkier men felt their way in. Suddenly the light burst upon me, for the moment almost paralysing me with fright. I stood motionless by the rocky wall, gazing at the fantastic scene within. The Cave appeared to be about twice as large as the interior of the Great Cathedral of Lhasa. Unlike that Cathedral, which always was enshrouded in the dusk(tusmørke), which butter lamps tried vainly to dispel, here was brightness more intense than that of the full moon on a cloudless night. No, it was much brighter than that; the quality of the light must have given me the impression of moonlight. I gazed upwards at the globes which provided the illumination. The lamas crowded in beside me, and, like me, they gazed at the source of light first. My Guide said, "The old records indicate that the illumination here was originally much brighter, these lamps are burning low with the passage of hundreds of centuries."

For long moments we stood still, silent, as though afraid of waking those who slept throughout the endless years. Then, moved by a common impulse, walked across the solid stone floor to the first machine standing dormant (sovende) before us. We crowded around it, half afraid to touch it yet very curious as to what it could be. It was dulled with age, yet it appeared ready for instant use - if one knew what it was for and how to operate it. Other devices engaged our attention, also without result. These machines were far far too advanced for us. I wandered off to where a small square platform of about three feet wide, with guard rails, rested on the ground. What appeared to be a long, folded metal tube extended from a nearby machine, and the platform was attached to the other end of the tube. Idly I stepped on to the railed square, wondering what it could be. The next instant I almost died of shock; the platform gave a little tremor and rose high into the air. I was so frightened that I clung in desperation to the rails.

Below me the six lamas gazed upwards in consternation. The tube had unfolded and was swinging the platform straight to one of the spheres of light. In desperation I looked over the side. Already I was some thirty feet in the air, and rising. My fear was that the source of light would burn me to a crisp, like a moth in the flame of a butter lamp. There was a "click" and the platform stopped. Inches from my face the light glowed. Timidly I stretched out my hand - and the whole sphere was as cold as ice. By now I had regained my composure somewhat, and I gazed about me. Then a chilling thought struck me; how was I going to get down? I jumped from side to side, trying to work out a way of escape, but there appeared to be none. I tried to reach the long tube, hoping to climb down, but it was too far away. Just when I was becoming desperate, there was another tremor, and the platform started to descend. Hardly waiting for it to touch ground I leaped out! I was taking no risks that the thing would go up again.

Against a far wall crouched a great statue, one that sent a shiver up my spine. It was of a crouching cat body, but with the head and shoulders of a woman. The eyes appeared to be alive; the face had a half-mocking, half-quizzical expression which rather frightened me. One of the lamas was on his knees on the floor, gazing intently at some strange marks. "Look!" he called, "this picture-writing shows men and cats talking, it shows what is obviously the soul leaving a body and wandering in the under-world." He was consumed with scientific zeal, poring over the pictures on the floor - "hieroglyphs" he called them - and expecting everyone else to be similarly enthused. This Lama was a highly trained man, one who learned ancient languages without any difficulties at all. The others were poking around the strange machines, trying to decide what they were for. A sudden shout made us wheel round in some alarm. The tall thin Lama was at the far wall and he seemed to have his face stuck in a dull metal box. He stood there with his head bent and the whole of his face concealed. Two men rushed to him and dragged him away from the danger. He uttered a roar of wrath and dashed back!

"Strange!" I thought, "even the sedate, learned lamas are going crazy in this place!" Then the tall, thin one moved aside and another took his place. So far as I could gather, they were seeing moving machines in that box. At last my Guide took pity on me and lifted me up to what apparently were "eye pieces". As I was lifted up and put my hands on a handle as instructed, I saw inside the box, men, and the machines which were in this Hall. The men were operating the machines. I saw that the platform upon which I had ascended to the light-sphere could be controlled and was a type of moveable "ladder" or rather a device, which would dispense with ladders. Most of the machines

here, I observed, were actual working models such as, in later years, I was to see in Science Museums throughout the world.

We moved to the panel which the Lama Mingyar Dondup had told me about previously, and at our approach it opened with a grating creak, so loud in the silence of the place that I think we all jumped with alarm. Inside was the darkness, profound, almost as if we had clouds of blackness swirling about us. Our feet were guided by shallow channels in the floor. We shuffled (subbet) along, and when the channels ended we sat. As we did so, there came a series of clicks, like metal scraping against metal, and almost imperceptibly light stole across the darkness and pushed it aside. We looked about us and saw more machines, strange machines. There were statues here, and pictures carved in metal. Before we had time to more than glance, the light drew in upon itself and formed a glowing globe in the centre of the Hail. Colours flickered aimlessly, and bands of light without apparent meaning swirled round the globe. Pictures formed, at first blurred and indistinct, then growing vivid and real and with three-dimensional effect. We watched intently...

This was the world of Long Long Ago. When the world was very young. Mountains stood where now there are seas, and the pleasant seaside resorts are now mountain tops. The weather was warmer and strange creatures roamed afield. This was a world of scientific progress. Strange machines rolled along, flew inches from the surface of the Earth, or flew miles up in the air. Great temples reared their pinnacles skywards, as if in challenge to the clouds. Animals and Man talked telepathically together. But all was not bliss; politicians fought against politicians. The world was a divided camp in which each side coveted the lands of the other. Suspicion and fear were the clouds under which the ordinary man lived. Priests of both sides proclaimed that they alone were the favoured of the gods. In the pictures before us we saw ranting priests - as now - purveying their own brand of salvation. At a price! Priests of each sect taught that it was a "holy duty" to kill the enemy. Almost in the same breath they preached that Mankind throughout the world were brothers. The illogicality of brother killing brother did not occur to them.

We saw great wars fought, with most of the casualties (sårede) being civilians. The armed forces, safe behind their armour, were mostly safe. The aged, the women and children, those who did not fight, were the ones to suffer. We saw glimpses of scientists working in laboratories, working to produce even deadlier weapons, working to produce bigger and better bugs to drop on the enemy. One sequence of pictures showed a group of thoughtful men planning what they termed a "Time Capsule" (tidskapsel)(what we called "The Cave of the Ancients"), wherein they could store for later generations working models of their machines and a complete, pictorial record of their culture and lack of it. Immense machines excavated the living rock. Hordes of men installed the models and the machines. We saw the cold light spheres hoisted in place, inert radio-active substances giving off light for millions of years. Inert in that it could not harm humans, active in that the light would continue almost until the end of Time itself.

We found that we could understand the language, then the explanation was shown, that we were obtaining the "speech" telepathically. Chambers such as this, or "Time Capsules", were concealed beneath the sands of Egypt, beneath a pyramid in South America, and at a certain spot in Siberia. Each place was marked by the symbol of the times; the Sphinx. We saw the great statues of the Sphinx, which did not originate in Egypt, and we received an explanation of its form. Man and animals talked and worked together in those far-off days. The cat was the most perfect animal for power and intelligence. Man himself is an animal, so the Ancients made a figure of a large cat body to indicate power and endurance, and upon the body they put the breasts and head of a woman. The head was to indicate human intelligence and reason, while the breasts indicated that Man and Animal could draw spiritual and mental nourishment each from the other. That Symbol was then as common as is Statues of Buddha, or the Star of David, or the Crucifix at the present day.

We saw oceans with great floating cities, which moved from land to land. In the sky floated equally large craft which moved without sound. Which could hover, and almost instantly flash into stupendous speed. On the surface' vehicles moved some inches above the ground itself, sup-ported in the air by some method which we could not determine. Bridges stretched across the cities carrying on slender cables what appeared to be roadways. As we watched we saw a vivid flash in the sky, and one of the largest bridges collapsed into a tangle of girders and cables. Another flash, and most of the city itself vanished into incandescent gas. Above the ruins towered a strangely evil-looking red cloud, roughly in the shape of a mushroom - miles high.

Our pictures faded, and we saw again the group of men who had planned the "Time Capsules". They had decided that now was the time to seal them. We saw the ceremonies, we saw the "stored memories" being fitted into the machine. We heard the speech of farewell which told us - "The People of the Future, if there be any!" - that Mankind was about to destroy itself, or such seemed probable, "and within these vaults (hvelv) are stored such records of our achievements and follies (dårskap) as may benefit those of a future race who have the intelligence to discover it, and having discovered it, be able to understand it."

The telepathic voice faded out, the picture screen turned black. We sat in silence, stupefied (forbløffet) by what we had seen. Later, as we sat, the light grew again and we saw that it was actually coming from the walls of that room.

We rose and looked about us. This Hall was also littered (ligge strødd utover i..) with machines and there were many models of cities and bridges, all formed of some kind of stone or of some type of metal - the nature of which we were unable to determine. Certain of the exhibits were protected by some quite transparent material which baffled us. It was not glass; we just did not know what the stuff was, all we knew was that it effectively prevented us from touching some of the models. Suddenly we all jumped; a baleful red eye was watching us, winking at us. I was prepared to run for it when my Guide the Lama Mingyar Dondup strode over to the machine with the red eye. He looked down at it and touched the handles. The red eye vanished. Instead on a small screen we saw a picture of another room leading from the Main Hall. Into our brains came a message, "As you leave, go to the room (???) where you will find materials with which to seal any opening through which you entered. If you have not reached the stage of evolution where you can work our machines, seal this place and leave it intact for those who will come later."

Silently we filed out into the third room, the door of which opened at our approach. It contained many carefully sealed canisters and a "picture-thought" machine, which described for us how we might open the canisters and seal the Cave entrance. We sat upon the floor and discussed that which we had seen and experienced. "Wonderful! Wonderful!" said a lama. "Don't see anything wonderful in it," said I, brashiy. "We could have seen all that by looking at the Akashic Record. Why should we not look at those time-stream pictures and see what happened after this place was sealed up?" The others turned enquiringly to the senior of the party, the Lama Mingyar Dondup. He nodded slightly and remarked, "Sometimes our Lobsang shows glimmerings of intelligence! Let us compose ourselves and see what happened, for I am as curious as you." We sat in a rough circle, each facing in, and with our fingers interlocked in the appropriate pattern. My Guide started the necessary breathing rhythm and we all followed his lead. Slowly We lost our Earth identities and became as one floating in the Sea of Time. All that has ever happened can be seen by those who have the ability to consciously go into the astral and return - conscious - with the knowledge gained. Any scene in history, from an age no matter how remote, can be seen as if one were actually there.

I remembered the first time I had experienced. the "Akashic Record." My Guide had been telling me about such things, and I had replied, "Yes, but what is it? How does it work? How can one get in touch with things that have passed, that are finished and gone?" "Lobsang!" he had replied, "you will agree that you have a memory. You can remember what happened yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. With a little training you can remember everything that has happened in your life, you can, with training remember even the process of being born. You can have what we term 'total recall' and that will take your memory back to before you were born. The Akashic Record is merely the 'memory' of the whole world. Everything that has ever happened on this Earth can be 'recalled' in just the same way as you can remember past events in your life. There is no magic involved, but we will deal with that and hypnotism - a closely related subject at a later date."

With our training it was easy indeed to select the point at which the Machine had faded out its pictures. We saw the procession of men and women, notables of that time no doubt, file out of the Cave. Machines with vast arms slid (skjøv)what appeared to be half a mountain over the entrance. The cracks and crevices (sprekkene..) where surfaces met were carefully sealed, and the group of people and the workmen went away. Machines rolled into the distance and for a time, some months, the scene was quiet. We saw a high priest standing on the steps of an immense Pyramid, exhorting (formanende) his listeners to war. The pictures impressed upon the Scrolls of Time rolled on, changed, and we saw the opposing camp. Saw the leaders ranting and raving. Time moved on. We saw streaks of white vapour in the blue of the skies, and then those skies turned red. The whole world trembled and shook. We, watching, experienced vertigo. The darkness of the night fell over the world. Black clouds, shot with vivid flames, rolled around the whole globe. Cities flamed briefly and were gone.

Across the land surged the raging seas. Sweeping all before it, a giant wave, taller than the tallest building had been, roared across the land, its crest bearing aloft the flotsam of a dying civilization. The Earth shook and thundered in agony (pine), great chasms (kløfter) appeared and closed again like the gaping maws of a giant. The mountains waved like willow twigs in a storm, waved, and sank beneath the seas. Land masses rose from the waters and became mountains. The whole surface of the world was in a state of change, of continuous motion. A few scattered survivors, out of millions, fled shrieking to the newly risen mountains. Others, afloat in ships that somehow survived the upheaval, reached the high ground and fled into any hiding place they could find. The Earth itself stood still, stopped its direction of rotation, and then turned in the opposite direction. Forests flashed from trees to scattered ash in the twinkling of an eye. The surface of the Earth was desolate (øde; ødslig; fortapt; ensom og forlatt), ruined, charred to a black crisp. Deep in holes, or in the lava tunnels of extinct volcanoes, a scattered handful of Earth's population, driven insane by the catastrophe, cowered and gibbered in their terror. From the black skies fell a whitish substance, sweet to the taste, sustaining of life.

In the course of centuries the Earth changed again; the seas were now land, and the lands that had becn were now seas. A low lying plain had its rocky walls cracked and sundered, and the waters rushed in to form the Sea now known as the Mediterranean. Another sea nearby sank through a gap in the sea bed, and as the waters left and the bed dried, the Sahara Desert was formed. Over the face of the Earth wandered wild tribes who, by the light of their camp fires, told of the old legends, told of the Flood, of Lemuria, and Atlantis. They told, too, of the day the Sun Stood Still.

The Cave of the Ancients lay buried in the silt (slam) of a halfdrowned world. Safe from intruders, it rested far beneath the surface of the land. In course of time, fast-running streams would wash away the silt, the debris, and allow the rocks to stand forth in the sunlight once more. At last, heated by the sun and cooled by a sudden icy shower, the rock face would split with thunderous noise and we would be able to enter.

We shook ourselves, stretched our cramped limbs, and rose wearily to our feet. The experience had been a shattering one. Now we had to eat, to sleep, and on the morrow we would look about us again so that we might perhaps learn something. Then, our mission accomplished, we would wall up the entrance as directed. The Cave would sleep again in peace until men of goodwill and high intelligence would come again. I wandered to the Cave mouth and looked down upon the desolation, upon the riven rocks, and I wondered what a man of the Old Times would think if he could rise from his grave to stand beside me, here.

As I turned in to the interior I marvelled at the contrast; a lama was lighting a fire with flint and tinder, igniting some dried yak dung which we had brought for that purpose. Around us were the machines and artifacts of a bygone age. We - modern men - were heating water over a dung fire, surrounded by such marvellous machines that they were beyond our comprehension. I sighed, and turned my thoughts to that of mixing tea and tsampa.

The story continue on part 2:

Link to part 2


here the addition - about the true identity of Rampa:

In 1956, London publishers Secker and Warburg brought out what they thought was a very good occult book. Never did they, nor Doubleday and Company the New York publishers, forsee that the book would suddenly capture the imagination of two nations as the general public read the most fascinating book on Tibet ever published.

The book was autobiographic and told the strange and inspiring story of a Tibetan monk who had progressed from neophyte to lamahood, and had eventually attained a certain occult faculty which comprised the title of the book.

THE THIRD EYE, by Tuesday Lobsang Rampa was not only a recounting of his initiations and monastary doings, but it also proved to be a highly lively account of everyday Tibetan life.

We read the book from cover to cover one night, every bit as fascinated as everybody else. But we couldn't help wondering how an Easterner could have mastered the English language so vivaciously.

The reason was soon to come in the furore over the book which took place in London when some Tibetan scholars challenged the authenticity of Rampa and averred he was not a Tibetan and had never been to Tibet.

Then T. Lobsang Rampa's side of the story was revealed. No he had indeed never been to Tibet, in his present body. The spirit of a Tibetan lama had, however entered his body, under unusual circumstances. In reply to his critics. Rampa stated:

"THE THIRD EYE is absolutely true and all that write in that book is fact. I, a Tibetan lama, now occupy what was originally the body of a Western man, and I occupy it to the permanent and total exclusion of the former occupant. He gave his willing consent, being glad to escape from life on this earth in view of my urgent need.

"The actual change-over occurred on the 13th of June, 1949, but the way had to be prepared some time before that. I know that I have a special task to do, and I became aware that it would be necessary to come to England for various reasons connected with it. In the latter part of 1947, I was able to by telepathy send impressions to a suitable person. In February, 1946, he changed his name by legal Deed Poll.

"To make the change-over easier he altered his address a number of times and lost contact with all friends and relations. On the 13th of June 1949, he had a slight accidept which resulted in concussion and which "knocked him out of himself." This enabled me to take over.

"I tried very hard indeed to obtain employment in England, but for various reasons there was no assistance from the Employment Exchange. For years I visited Employment Exchanges and the Appointment Bureau in Tavistock Square, London. I was also registered with a number of private Employment Agencies and paid quite a considerable amount to them in fees, but none of them did anything for me.

"For some time we lived on capital which had been saved and upon anything which I was able to earn from doing free-lance writing or advertising.

"I have a special task to do because during my life in Tibet I had been to the Chang Tane Highlands where I had seen a device which enables people to see the human aura. I am clairvoyant and can see the aura as I have demonstrated to many people at many times, but - I am aware that if doctors and surgeons could see the human aura then they could determine the illness afflicting a human body before it was at all serious. It was not possible for me to come to England in the body, which I then had. I tried, but to no avail.

The aura is merely a corona discharge of the body, of the life force. It is similar to the corona discharge from a high-tension cable, which can be seen by almost anyone on a misty night, and if money would be spent on research, medical science would have one of the most potent tools for the cure of disease. I had to have money in order to carry out my own research, but, I have never taken money for curing people's illnesses or for taking their troubles off their shoulders as has been misrepresented in a certain paper!

"And how did ThE THIRD EYE come to be written? I certainly did not want to write it but I was desperate to get a job so that I could get on with my allotted task. 'I tried for job after job without avail, until eventually a friend offered to put me in touch with a gentlemen who might be able to use my service. Mr. Brooks said I should write a book. I insisted that I did not want to write a book and so we parted. Mr. Brooks wrote me again and once more suggested that I should write a book. In the interval between seeing him and receiving his letter I had been for other interviews and had been rejected. So with much reluctance I accepted Mr. Brooks' offer to write such a book, and here again I repeat that everything said in that book is true. Everything said in my second book, DOCTOR FROM LHASA, is true also. One should not place too much credence in 'experts' or 'Tibetan Scholars' when it is seen how one "expert" contradicts the other, when they cannot agree on what is right and what is wrong, and after all how many of those 'tibetan scholars' have entered a lamasery at the age of seven, and worked all the way through the life as a Tibetan, and then taken over the body of a Westerner? I HAVE." *(*Since the above statements were made in 1957, Rampa has written several other books.)

What about the man whose body Rampa took over?

What of his former life before the transformation? Following are some remarkable statements by his wife:

"Many people will wonder about the one who occupied that Western body before it was taken over by a Tibetan and I, as the Wife, would like to tell something of events leading to the change of personality.

"At the first indication of something different was more than a little startled. We were leading a quiet life in Surrey, my Husband being on the staff of a correspondence college, in an advisory capacity, and the war had been over for two years. Out of the blue came his remark toward the end of 1947 - - sitting quietly for some time, he startled me by suddenly saying, 'I am going to change my name.' I looked at him aghast for I failed to see any point in doing such a thing. We had nothing to hide, nothing from which to lun away. It took me some time to recover after he continued, 'Yes, we will change our name by Deed Poll.

"By February, 1948, all the legal formalities had been completed, and we had no further right to our previous name. My Husband's employer was not pleased, but there was little he could do about it, especially as at about that time one of the firm's directors had made an alteration to his own name.

"Of course everyone thought we had at last taken leave of our senses, but that never bothered me. I had lived with my Husband for eight years and knew that if he had a hunch to do anything at all there was always a very good reason for it. Soon, however we noticed people were not saying our name when addressing us, and even after seeing it written they didn't seem able to spell it; for that reason we later contracted it to …….

I want to clarify this print to show that we have at no time used an alias as has been mistakenly suggested.

"At about this time my Husband talked a great deal about the East and on occasions he' did in fact wear Eastern dress; he often seemed to be very preoccupied in his manner, and I have known him to fall into a trance state and speak in an unfamiliar tongue, which I now believe to be a language of the East. In July 1949, he again made a sudden decision -- this time to give up his job! This he did to the consternation of his employer who had always found him to be a very useful and conscientious member of his staff.

What of his former life before the transformation? Following are some remarkable statements by his wife:

"The idea behind this was so that we could leave the district and lose all contact with the past, which we did. Within a year we had completely lost touch with previous acquaintances and with our forner life. We managed to exist on what we had saved, together with what we could earn from various forms of writing.

"The day I happened to look out the window and see my husband lying at the foot of a tree in the garden is something I shall never forget. I hurried out to find he was recovered, but to me, a trained nurse, he seemed to be stunned or something. When eventually he regained consciousness he seemed to act differently, and in ways I did not understand.

"After getting him indoors and upstairs to our flat to rest, the main thought in my mind was to get a doctor as quickly as possible, but I was reckoning without him-- -he seemed to sense my alarm and implored me not to do so, assuring me that he was quite all right. Certainly his speech seemed different, more halting -- as if he was unfamiliar with the language, and his voice appeared deeper than before.

"For some time I was quite concerned, for SOMETHING seemed to have happened to his memory. Before speaking or moving he appeared to be making calculations; much later I learned that he was 'tuning in to my mind' to see what was expected of him. I do not mind admitting that in the early stages I was very worried, but now it seems quite natural. I have never ceased to wonder that such an ordinary individual as myself should be so closely associated with such a remarkable occurrence as the advent of a Tibetan lama to the Western World."

Link to part 2 of THE CAVE OF THE ANCIENTS