Sensei of Shambala. Book III. Anastasia Novykh

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      This book was written based on the personal diary of a former high school senior girl reflecting events of summer, 1991.

      Darkness enveloped the Creature from all sides. Only an imparting voice and gleams of light made an illusion of its presence.

      Amazing is this world. Each of its moments is unpredictable, and each resolute step in it is a step towards the unknown as you don’t know what follows after. You can dream, build plans for the future, but life will invariably make its amendments, whether you want it or not. It’s as if you are taking part in a game with multiple tests. Pass all tests, and you’ll get your dream. But the question is, whether the dream is worthy of all these ties and hardships. The question is: what you dreamt of?

      Curiously enough, as though by some unknown law, the same trouble repeatedly happens to all people: if a person’s dreams go around the level of existence, then, after going through all chain of trials towards the cherished goal, the realized dream does not afford the expected satisfaction for some reason. What’s more, it becomes empty and useless in time. But the energies are expended, and the best years are gone. So, this person loses heart once more, and then directs all his energies at achieving a new goal of existence, while in essence he only does the same ‘been there, done that’ again. And such a hollow game goes on up to his death. At the end, however, there’s a sad result: lost everything he could, no vital forces left, and all around seems meaningless repetition of one and the same stupid blunders, only already made by other people. Eventually, there comes the old bony lady Death and like a croupier in a casino, with feigned smile, she remarks about your total loss: ‘Sorry, little human, looks like it wasn’t your day today’. But the most striking thing is that in this moment everyone thinks to himself that he is the only such loser of a kind. And he doesn’t even understand, poor soul, that he is but one grain out of billions of the like, who, thanks to their stupid dreams, got caught in exactly the same way in the global system of deceit, advertising sign of which says: ‘They lived like the rest and they died like the rest.’

      But few do know that there are other ways in life round this all-devouring crater of existence. And their guide is spiritual goals. It doesn’t mean that a road for them will be even and comfortable. Rather the contrary, continuous pits and bumps throughout your entire life, continuous tests and trials of your willingness to achieve the only cherished dream – to come to God as a mature creature. The way is hard. But if you concentrate on inner core of belief and harden it day after day, there happens a miracle: overcoming difficulties turns into fascinating stalking, problems turn into hazard warnings on your life track, unexpected meetings and events turn into guide signs of the right course. And it all turns out to be very simple! All what’s required is not to be tempted by stupid dreams of existence and avoid turning into its wide roads, leading to a trap of the global deceit.

      Curiously enough, but in respect of such a course of life too, as if by some unknown law, for people aspiring to the spiritual there happens one and the same story: with honor and dignity, going through years of their life, retaining love for God through twists and turns of existence, they find unknown divine power, soulful gratification, and inner peace. They fear not Life; nor they fear Death. For Life to them is but a temporary refuge for Soul; for Death to them is the Door to everlasting life, into the world of God. And the point is that spiritual people not only believe: they know about realities of the higher world. While those, who find comfort in thought about existence, being in the global system of deceit, are not even able to believe, for not only they cannot see true reality behind the shroud of existence, but they even cannot adequately hold their own lives. To each his own, though: what one chooses, that he gets.

      We woke up around noon. The sun was already quite high in the sky. It was a clear day. The sea was calm. After yesterday’s storm the shore looked certainly impressive. Surprisingly, the part of land, which yesterday’s element fell upon with such phenomenal ferocity, was not just clean. In fact, it was refreshed in a way. The border of the renewed land laid along the winding line, that was drawn by the sea itself, consisting of seaweed, wreckage, and all kinds of rubbish of civilization ejected by the storm. It seemed that the sea mocked people by piling the land with waste of their own. After all, the sea is able to stand up for itself, for its coastal vast. A single heavy gale – and such tidiness, a pure primordial cleanness!

      Part of the land that did not suffer from water looked a sorry spectacle, including the place where our tent camp was. But this chaos was nothing compared to our impressions of the previous night’s events. It’s not enough that my organism, having lost its habitual sleep and wakeful regimen, was in utter run-down condition, like a car after an accident, in addition to that my thoughts went off-scale with emotions, replay yesterday’s plot of demonstrations and stories of Sensei. At that, these impressions were so vivid against the background of general indisposition of my body that it seemed to have happened just now. It was as if there had been no those hours of sleep, separating us from the reality of Sensei’s world that amazed us.

      It was evident that I was not the only one being under power of impression of the last night’s events, because the first thing the guys talked about after the ‘morning’ exercise were the events that took place the night before. Along with that play on words of various impressions we set to introduce proper order in the camp territory, after having a hurried dry rations meal. There was lots СКАЧАТЬ