LOBSANG RAMP
CAVES OF THE ANCIENTS
(spiritual journey continues)
"SOFIA"
Publishing House "HELIOS"
2001
Ramp, Lobsang Caves of the Ancients
Per. from English - K.: “Sofia”; M.: Publishing House "Helios", 2001. - 192 p.
The spiritual journey continues.
“A defiantly true story about a person’s penetration into the great mystery of life and enlightenment...”
This is a life path that could have been destroyed forever, a spiritual culture with roots going back to Ancient Times, which belongs to the Lamaist monasteries of Tibet.
"Caves of the Ancients" is a book about how Lobsang Rampa walked the path of self-awareness in these ancient repositories of wisdom, where lamas comprehend the meaning of life and death, where the mystical connection between the mind and the brain is revealed, where the secrets of clairvoyance, hypnosis and reincarnation are part of everyday life .
Here Rampa also learns power, but not for destruction and abuse of power over people, because the energy of Supreme Enlightenment and Universal Knowledge exists only for the chosen few, called to save this world.
The miracles he describes are presented with great taste and humor, and the author does not impose his opinion on us, but only offers his good will.
"PREFACE" Preface
"Chapter 1" Chapter 1 The Center of the Worlds
"Chapter 2" Chapter 2 Vision in the Temple
"Chapter 3" Chapter 3 Recognized Incarnation
"Chapter 4" Chapter 4 Life of a Hermit
"Chapter 5" Chapter 5 In the Cave of the Ancients
"Chapter 6" Chapter 6 The Hitman
"Chapter 7" Chapter 7 Leaving the Body
"Chapter 8" Chapter 8 Human Aura
"Chapter 9" Chapter 9 Printing in Tibet
"Chapter 10" Chapter 10 School of Life
"Chapter 11" Chapter 11 Human Vibrations
"Chapter 12" Chapter 12 Goodbye, friend!
Dedicated
Max and Valeria Sorok
- two seekers of Truth.
This is a book about the occult and human capabilities, intended for ordinary people. There are no “unintelligible words” in it, no terms in Sanskrit or other dead languages. An ordinary person wants to learn new things, and not solve riddles about what words mean, which the writer himself sometimes does not understand! If a writer knows what he is writing about, he can write in English, since he does not need to hide gaps in his knowledge by using foreign words.
These days, many people find themselves caught in the trap of meaningless words. The Laws of Life are in reality extremely simple, and therefore there is no need to surround them with mystical rituals and create new pseudo-religions. There is also no need to proclaim new “divine revelations”, because “revelation” can be achieved by any person if only he makes some effort for this.
No religion holds the Keys to Heaven, and no one will ever be condemned to hell for walking into church wearing a hat instead of taking off their shoes. On the gates of Tibetan monasteries are inscribed the words: “A thousand monks - a thousand religions.” Whatever you believe, if you “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” you will get yours when the show comes to an end.
Some argue that Secret Knowledge can be obtained only when a person begins to profess one or another cult and, moreover, does not forget to pay a tidy sum. And the Laws of Life say: “He who seeks will find.”
This book is the fruit of a long life and tells of the unusual abilities acquired by its author in the great Lamaist monasteries of Tibet, where he was taught to follow the Laws of Life. It will talk about the experience of people of bygone times, about the knowledge that is captured in Egyptian pyramids, in the sacred temples of the Andes and in the world's greatest treasury of occult knowledge - the mountains of Tibet.
T. Lobsang Rampa
It was a warm evening. Surprisingly warm and pleasant for this time of year. The sweetish aroma of incense, slowly spreading through the air, evoked calm. In the distance, behind the high wall of the Himalayas, the sun was setting in a triumphant glow. It painted the mountain tops in blood-red tones, as if predicting future bloody events in Tibet.
The elongated shadows of the twin peaks Potala and Chakpori slowly crawled towards Lhasa. Below them on the right, a belated caravan of traders from India was making its way to the Pargo Kaling, or Western Gate. The last of the pious wanderers, with haste inappropriate for these people, as if afraid of the quickly approaching velvet darkness, ran along the Lingkor road.
Kai-Chu, or the Happy River, flowed with a joyful murmur along an endless path to the sea. It crumbled into a thousand little suns, paying tribute to the passing day. Lhasa flickered faintly with the golden reflections of oil lamps. From the monastery at the foot of the Potala a trumpet announced the end of the day; its sounds, reflected from the rocks, echoing throughout the valley, returned completely different.
I gazed intently at the familiar picture. Hundreds of monks behind hundreds of windows were completing their daily tasks. From the roof of a tall building that stood directly behind the Golden Tomb, a small figure looked down, distant and seemingly terribly alone. When the last rays of the sun sank into the mountains, the trumpeter sounded the trumpet again, and low sounds of singing rushed upward from the temple at the foot. Soon the darkness deepened, and the stars shone in the sky like jewels framed in purple. A meteor streaked through the sky and flared brightly before falling to Earth in a pinch of smoking dust.
“Wonderful night, Lobsang,” a beloved voice came from the darkness.
“Indeed, she is wonderful,” I responded, hastily jumping to my feet to bow to greet Lama Mingyar Dondup.
He sat down against the wall and motioned for me to sit next to him.
- Can you imagine, Lobsang, that you, me, all people are like this! - he said, pointing up.
I looked at him silently. How can I be like the stars in the night sky? Lama was big handsome man, with noble features. But it also faintly resembled star clusters.
“We are exactly the same, exactly the same,” he laughed. - I wanted to explain to you that things are not always what they seem to us. Write “Om mani padme hum” so that the inscription covers the entire valley and people will not be able to read it. It will be too big for them.
He interrupted his speech, looked at me and, making sure that I was following his explanation, continued:
- So are the stars. They are just too big for us to see what is actually made up of them.
I looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Is something made up of stars? Stars are... because they are stars! I tried to imagine an inscription that was impossible to read due to its gigantic size. A gentle voice interrupted my exercises:
- Imagine that you are shrinking, shrinking, becoming the size of a grain of sand. How will you see me then? May you become even smaller. Now a grain of sand is the whole world for you. How will I appear to you then?
He fell silent for a moment and gave me a questioning look.
- Well? So what will you see?
My brain was paralyzed. With my mouth open in bewilderment, I probably looked like a fish that had just washed up on the shore.
“There will be revealed to you, Lobsang,” he said, “a scattering of worlds floating in the darkness.” Thanks to your size, the molecules of my body will become worlds to you. You will see how worlds revolve around worlds, you will see “suns” - molecules of psychic centers, you will see the universe!
My brain creaked like an ungreased cart. I could have sworn that something in my head was trembling with tension as I tried to comprehend this amazing and unknown knowledge.
My Guide, Lama Mingyar Dondup, leaned forward and gently took my chin.
- Lobsang! - he grinned. - Yes, your eyes are already tired of wanting to follow me.
Smiling, he sat down again and, giving me just a few minutes to recover, continued:
- Look at your clothes! Feel her!
I did as he said. Looking at the tattered rags, I felt quite stupid. The Lama continued:
- This is fabric. It feels smooth to the touch. In light - opaque. But suppose you look at it through a tenfold magnifying glass. Imagine a thick strand of wool, each hair ten times thicker than it is now. You will be able to distinguish gaps between the fibers. Magnify it a million times and you can ride through it. And each hair will be so huge that you can hardly climb it.
What he was talking about was generally clear. I sat silently and thought.
“You look like a decrepit old woman,” he laughed.
“Sir,” I finally decided to ask. - So, does this mean that all living things are just a void in which worlds are scattered?
“It’s not that simple,” he replied. - Sit back and I’ll tell you a little about the Knowledge that we discovered in the Cave of the Ancients.
- Cave of the Ancients! - I screamed enthusiastically. - You were going to tell me about her and about the expedition.
- Don't worry, we'll get there. But now I will tell you about Life and about Man what the ancients knew about them during the time of Atlantis.
Deep down, I was much more interested in the Cave itself, recently discovered by an expedition of high lamas. Since the times of ancient civilizations, its depths have stored unprecedented reserves of knowledge and practical information. But, knowing the Mentor well, I understood that it was useless to wait for the story before the time came for it.
In the sky above us, through the transparent haze of the clean air of Tibet, the stars shone in all their glory. In churches and monasteries, the lights went out one after another. The pitiful howl of a dog was heard, brought from somewhere far away by a barely perceptible night breeze. A lazy answering bark came from the village of Sho, directly below us. Not a single cloud floated past the newly risen moon. The flags hung limply from the masts. Somewhere, a prayer wheel creaked faintly - a pious monk, entangled in superstition and unaware of reality, turned it in the vain hope of earning God's favor.
Hearing this sound, my Guide smiled and said:
- To each according to faith, to each according to need. Many people enjoy ceremonial events and rituals. There is no point in condemning those who have not walked far enough along the Path and cannot yet stand without crutches. I want to tell you, Lobsang, about the essence of man.
It seemed to me that this Man was sitting next to me. The only one who showed me love and respect. I listened carefully to the Master just to strengthen his faith in me. At least that's how it was at first. But soon his story captivated me, and I began to listen with genuine interest.
- The whole world is created from vibrations. Everything living and nonliving consists of them. Even the mighty Himalayas are just a mass of suspended particles, not touching each other. The world, the Universe, consists of tiny specks of dust. The planets revolve around the Sun, maintaining order and not colliding. Likewise, everything that exists is built from rotating worlds.
He stopped and looked at me carefully, probably expecting to be met with misunderstanding, but so far I had no difficulty keeping up with his thoughts. He continued:
- The ghosts that clairvoyants see in the temple are living people. They left this world and reached a state where their own molecules were scattered very widely. So wide that “ghosts” easily pass through the densest walls without touching the molecules of these walls.
- Venerable Teacher, why do we hear a ringing in our ears when a ghost slightly touches us? - I asked.
- Every molecule, every small solar system surrounded by an electric charge. True, this electricity is of a finer structure than that which people generate using machines. Its flashes can be seen in the night sky. Like the Earth, every particle, even the smallest one, has its own “aurora.” Therefore, a ghost passing too close causes a slight shock in our aura. We feel it as a ringing in our ears.
The night froze over us. Nothing disturbed the silence. Such peace is familiar only to those who have visited Tibet.
- So, the aura that we see is electricity? - I asked.
“Yes,” answered my Mentor, Lama Mingyar Dondup. - You've probably heard about the corona effect. Where high-voltage wires are stretched above the ground, a bluish glow is observed. Usually it can only be seen on a dark, foggy night, but for those who can see, it is always there. - He looked at me thoughtfully. - When you go to Chongqing to study medicine, you will definitely come across a device for recording electrical brain waves. All life, everything that exists is electricity and vibration.
- I'm completely confused! How can life be both vibration and electricity? I can understand one thing, but both?..
- But dear Lobsang! - Lama laughed. - After all, without movement, without vibration, there can be no electricity. Both are closely related.
He, frowning, noticed my bewilderment and, using telepathy, read my thoughts.
- No! - he exclaimed. - Not “every” vibration generates electricity! I'll try to explain it to you differently. Imagine a huge piano, the keyboard of which extends from here to infinity. The vibration of a rigid body will be represented in it by one key. The second will present the sound. The third is the image. The remaining keys will represent feelings, sensations, goals - everything that is not yet entirely clear to us living on this Earth. A dog hears higher pitched sounds than a human; a person hears sounds lower than a dog. You may not have even suspected that you can talk to a dog, only on higher notes. This is how the inhabitants of the spirit world communicate with those who are still on earth and endowed with the gift of clairaudience.
Interrupting the story, the Lama laughed cheerfully:
“I pulled you out of bed, but you have the whole morning to make up for lost time.”
He gestured to the stars.
- Ever since I visited the Cave of the Ancients and saw the wonderful instruments that no one had touched since the days of Atlantis, I have been playing with one game from time to time. I imagine two tiny sentient creatures, each smaller than a tiny virus. Their shape doesn't matter, but let's assume they are intelligent and have very precise little devices. Let's imagine that they live, like us, in the open space of their infinitesimal world.
- Ah! What a wonderful night! - A exclaims in amazement, peering into the starry sky.
“Yes,” answers B. “It makes you think about the meaning of life.” Who are we and where are we going?
And he thinks, looking at the stars floating across the endless expanses of the night sky:
- Worlds without borders. Millions, billions of worlds. Which ones are inhabited?
- Nonsense! Blasphemy! Nonsense! - B. chokes. - You know very well that there is no life except the one in our world. Did not the Priests say that we were created in the image of the Lord? And what kind of life could there be that is different from ours? You're obviously completely crazy.
- Well, maybe they are still wrong, maybe they are wrong! - A mutters, walking away.
Lama Mingyar Dondup smiled at me.
- This story has a continuation! Two scientists work in one far, far away laboratory. One of them sits hunched over in front of a monstrous microscope. His eye seems to be glued to the eyepiece. Suddenly he pushes his chair back with a sharp movement and jumps up as if stung. - Chen, look! - he shouts to the assistant. - Just look at this! - Standing up, Chen goes to the manager’s table and sits down at the microscope. “There’s one millionth of a grain of lead sulfide on the slide,” the manager says, “take a look.” - Chen adjusts the setting and, after looking, whistles in surprise. - Lord, it’s like the Universe under a microscope! The sun is shining, the planets are rotating!.. If we had such a magnification,” the leader says in a hushed voice, “to look at each small world separately... Do you think there is life there? - Nonsense! - Chen cuts him off sharply. - There is no life there! No and it cannot be! Didn't you listen to the priests? We are created in the image and likeness of God, so where would intelligent life come from there?
The stars above us continued their eternal and endless path. Smiling, Lama Mingyar Dondup rummaged through the folds of his clothing and pulled out a matchbox - a gift from distant India. He slowly took out a match and said cheerfully:
- Now, Lobsang, I will show you Creation!
He carefully struck a match on the box, and it burst into flames. After holding it for a few seconds so that I could get a good look at it, he suddenly blew it out.
- Creation and Death. While the match was burning, thousands of particles managed to fly away from one another. Each of them was a world, together they were a universe. And when the fire went out, this universe died. Can you say now that there is no life in other worlds!
I looked at him silently, not knowing what to answer.
- If there are worlds, Lobsang, and in these worlds there is life, then the world exists for it for millions of years. Maybe we're just a burning match? And we live with our joys and sorrows - more sorrows, reflecting on the world without end. Think about it, Lobsang, we'll talk about this later.
He stood up and soon disappeared from sight.
Stumbling on the roof, I began to grope my way to the stairs. Unlike the Western world, the ladder here is a long vertical pole with notches. Finally I found her and began the descent. Without much difficulty I found the first notch, the second, the third. Then the pole was doused with oil, and I flew down. From a strong blow, more stars flashed before my eyes than were in the sky at that time. I landed in the thick of piles of bodies, which caused numerous protests from the sleeping monks. Suddenly, a hand appeared from the darkness, and a bell rang in my head. I didn’t wait for him to continue, I quickly jumped up and ran as fast as I could.
There was no chase. Under the protective cover of night, I quietly, as best I could, found a place to sleep. Having made myself comfortable, I wrapped myself tightly in rags and lost myself in unconsciousness. Neither the rustling of hurrying feet, nor the humming of the sink, nor the ringing of silver bells could wake me.
It was already late morning. I woke up to someone enthusiastically kicking me. Through the veil of fog that obscured my eyes, I saw the face of a huge forehead.
- Get up, get up, you lazy dog! Wake up for the sake of the sacred blade!
He kicked me again, harder this time. I reached out, grabbed his leg and pulled. Falling with a roar, he shouted:
- The Honorable Abbot is calling you, you brainless idiot!
Having repaid with one blow for the many that he managed to give me, I straightened my clothes and started to run. “No food - no breakfast!” - I muttered to myself. Why is it that every time it’s time to refresh myself, someone urgently needs me? I flew along endless corridors, swinging my arms at turns. Several elderly monks who happened to cross my path almost suffered a stroke. But by the appointed time I was already there. Running into the Abbot’s room, I bowed respectfully.
The abbot studied my card, and as I entered I caught a hastily muffled chuckle.
“Ah,” he said. - So you are the same young man who rushes along the rocks, smears the stairs with oil and generally makes more noise than anyone else?
After a moment's hesitation, he looked at me sternly and continued:
- But you study well, surprisingly well. Your metaphysical abilities are at such high level, and you have done so well in academic work that I am going to assign you special classes with Grand Lama Mingyar Dondup. Under the personal guidance of His Holiness, you will gain unprecedented opportunities. Now go to your Mentor.
He dismissed me with a gesture and returned to his papers. Glad that my nightly adventures remained a secret, I hastily retreated.
My Guide, Lama Mingyar Dondup, was waiting for me. When I entered, he looked at me with a penetrating glance and asked:
- Well, have you already had breakfast?
“No, sir,” I answered. “The venerable Superior sent for me while I was still sleeping. I'm really hungry.
- I see you look dejected. “And I thought that you were treated badly,” he laughed. - Well, okay, have breakfast, and then come here.
I didn't need to be told twice: I was hungry and I didn't like it. How could I have known then that hunger would become my constant companion in life?
With new strength, strengthened by an excellent breakfast, and with a spirit purified by the thought of the work ahead, I returned to the Lama. When I entered, he stood up and said:
- Let's go! We'll spend a week on the Potala.
With a sweeping step he headed towards the exit. I followed him. A groom-monk with two horses was waiting for us on the street. I gloomily examined the horse that had been given to me by lot. She answered me with an even more gloomy look, thinking perhaps even worse about me than I was about her. In anticipation of imminent death, I climbed onto my horse and relied on the will of fate. The horse was a dangerous temperamental creature, but its main drawback was, undoubtedly, the lack of brakes. In addition, horse riding is something that I did not master very well during my upbringing.
The horses carried us and Chakpori along the mountain path at a trot. Crossing the Mani Lakhang road to the left of Pargo Kaling, we soon entered the village of Sho. After a short rest, the difficult ascent to the Potala began. Climbing a steep slope on horseback is not a pleasant experience, and my main task was to stay in the saddle.
An endless stream of monks, lamas and simple pilgrims flowed slowly along the narrow path. Some of them froze, amazed at the fabulous view, others, admitted to the Dalai Lama himself, thought only about the upcoming conversation.
We only stopped at the very top of the trail. I dismounted with gratitude, but without any grace. The poor friend let out a joyful neigh and turned her back to me in disgust.
We walked and walked, climbing countless stairs, until we reached the highest point of the Potala. The housing that Mingyar Dondul got was located next to the Hall of Sciences. There were collected unfamiliar instruments from different countries world, but the most interesting were those that came from ancient times. So, we reached our goal, and I settled down in the room assigned to me.
From the heights of the Potala, from the window of my room, which was only a floor below the Dalai Lama’s residence, the Valley was clearly visible. In the distance, the gilded roof of the Yo-Kang Cathedral gleamed. The Lingkhor road, like a huge snake, wrapped itself in a ring around Lhasa. It was filled with pious wanderers, bringing the remnants of their strength to the altar of the greatest center of Secret knowledge. I thanked fate for sending me such a wonderful Mentor. Without him, I would have remained an ordinary chela, dozing in the darkness of the common bedroom, but with him, I was on top of the world. Suddenly, so suddenly that I screamed in fear, someone's strong arms grabbed me and lifted me into the air.
- Unhappy! - a low bass hummed. - So, then you love your Mentor just because he brought you to the top of the Potala?! Because he feeds you his sugary Indian sweets?
I tried to protest, but he just laughed. I was too blind or too confused then to realize that he knew everything I thought about him! He continued, returning to his usual intonation:
- We are connected with you by strong ties. We knew each other well in a past life. You know everything about her, you just need to remember. Come on, we have a lot to do.
I straightened my clothes, picked up the cup that had fallen during my involuntary flight, and hurried to the Mentor’s room. He motioned for me to sit down and, when I was seated, asked:
- Well, have you thought about the meaning of life, about our conversation yesterday?
Somewhat frightened, I shook my head:
- Sir! I was still sleeping when the Abbot demanded me, then you called me, then I had breakfast, and then you wanted to see me again. I didn't have time to think about anything!
He said, smiling:
- In due time we will talk about food, but first we will deal with life.
He fell silent and took out a book written in some strange language. Now I understand that it was English. The mentor flipped through a few pages and seemed to have found what he was looking for. He handed me a book, open to some picture.
- Do you know what this is? - he asked.
I looked. The drawing was so ordinary that I began to look at the signature underneath it. And I couldn't understand a word. Returning the book, I said reproachfully:
- You know, Venerable Lama, that I cannot read this.
- But did you recognize the drawing? - he continued to insist.
- Of course, it’s just the Spirit of Nature. I became increasingly confused. What is it leading to? The Lama opened the book again and said:
- In a distant overseas country, people have lost the ability to see the Spirits of Nature. If anyone now claims to see them, it becomes a matter of ridicule. People in the West don't believe in anything that can't be taken apart, or picked up, or put in a basket. The spirit of nature lives there only in fairy tales, and no one believes fairy tales.
I was amazed! I have always seen Spirits and perceived them as something completely natural. I shook my head in bewilderment.
Lama Mingyar Dondup continued to speak:
- All Life, as you heard yesterday, consists of vibrating matter that creates an electric charge. Electricity is the life of matter. Just like in music, there are octaves. Imagine an ordinary person. Its fluctuations lie within a certain range. He lives in it, thinks, believes. Nature spirits and ghosts sound an octave higher and are therefore not visible to the average person.
I nervously fiddled with the hem of my clothes, thinking about what I had heard. This makes no sense! I see spirits and ghosts - that means they are visible to everyone!
The Lama replied, reading my thoughts:
- You see the aura, but most people don’t. You see spirits and ghosts, but most people don't. In early childhood, all people are very susceptible. But in adults, under the burden of everyday worries, feelings become dull. Additionally, in the West, children who talk about playing with spirits are ridiculed and punished for lying. Children get upset and eventually convince themselves that it is all just a figment of their imagination. You were raised correctly, and the ability to see auras, spirits, and ghosts will remain with you forever.
- So even flower perfumes are the same as us? - I asked.
- Absolutely! They just vibrate much faster and their particles are more scattered. That's why your hand passes through them like through a ray of sunshine.
- And you yourself “touched” the ghost? I mean, "kept" him? - I doubted.
- Certainly! - he exclaimed. - To do this, I raised my vibration level. I'll tell you about it.
The mentor lightly touched the silver bell - a gift from the abbot of one of the monasteries. A familiar monk-servant came to the call. He brought not tsampa, but real Indian tea with sweet cakes. They were brought from afar especially for His Holiness the Dalai Lama, and I, poor chela, to be honest, adored them. A reward for special diligence in study, as His Holiness said.
Lama Mingyar Dondup walked the whole world - both physical and astral, and the love of good tea was one of his few weaknesses. This weakness I approved with all my heart. We had a good meal, and when I finished the last cake, my friend and Mentor began the story:
- It happened many years ago here on the Potala. I was as young and fussy as you are now. One day I was hurrying to the service, when suddenly, to my horror, the large, dignified Abbot blocked my way. He was late too! The collision was inevitable. Already mentally rehearsing an apology, I suddenly burst right through him. He was as amazed as I was. But I was so embarrassed that I rushed on without stopping. And he wasn’t late, that is, he was almost not late.
I smiled, having difficulty imagining the majestic Lama Mingyar Dondup in a hurry. He smiled too and continued:
“Later, at night, I thought about what happened for a long time. I asked myself why I couldn't touch the ghost. And the longer I thought, the more convinced I became that I had to do this. I read everything I could find about it in old books. I consulted with a sage who lived in a cave high in the mountains. He told me a lot, directed me on the right path, and I want to pass this knowledge on to you.
He poured himself some more tea and took a sip before continuing.
- As I already said, life consists of many worlds revolving around their small suns. In motion, a certain substance is born, which we call electricity. By eating wisely, we can speed up our vibrations. Unlike cult fads, a proper diet actually improves your health and raises your vibrational frequency.
He paused and lit a stick of incense. Having made sure that the spark was smoldering properly, he said:
- The main purpose of incense is to speed up the vibrations of the space in which it burns. By choosing the right incense, you can achieve certain results. I fasted for a whole week and burned suitable incense in my room. By the end I was almost “outside” myself, and it seemed to me that I was more likely to fly than to walk. I could barely keep my astral body within the physical.
He smiled:
- You, of course, do not approve of such a strict diet! Surely, I thought, it would be better to touch a hearty meal every day than to touch the kindest ghost.
“At the end of the week,” said the Mentor, “I went down to the Inner Sanctum and, begging the ghost to touch me, burned even more incense. Suddenly I felt the warmth of someone's friendly hand on my shoulder. Turning around to see the one who interrupted my meditation, I almost jumped out of my clothes: standing in front of me was a man who had died more than a year ago.
Lama Mingyar Dondup abruptly stopped his story. The memories that came flooding back made him laugh.
- Lobsang! - he finally exclaimed. - The old dead lama asked me why I took on this burden. After all, all I had to do was take on an astral form! I admit, I was put to shame. How did such a simple thought not occur to me? Now, as you know, we actually go into the astral plane to talk to spirits.
“Of course, you speak using telepathy,” I interjected. “But I don’t know of any explanation for telepathy.” I can do this, but how do I do it?
“Lobsang, you ask the most difficult questions,” he laughed. - The most difficult thing to explain is the obvious. Tell me how you breathe. Everyone around is breathing, but how to explain the process itself?
I nodded sullenly. I knew I was asking questions too often, but how could I learn anything without that? Most chelas were not interested in anything as long as they were well-fed and worked in moderation. I wanted more, I wanted to know.
“The brain,” said the Lama, “is like a radio.” Yes, yes, exactly to the device with which a certain Marconi sent a message across the ocean. To control the particles of his essence, a person is given a radio device - his brain. When intending to do something, a person turns a dial and current begins to flow through certain nerves. The current excites the muscles, and they perform the desired action. In the same way, when a person thinks, his brain emits signals. Only at the higher end of the spectrum. With the help of special devices they can be captured and, as Western scientists say, divided into alpha, run, gamma and delta levels.
I nodded weakly. I have already heard this from doctor lamas.
- But sensitive person“,” the Mentor continued, “can not only receive signals, but also understand them. I read your thoughts, and if you try, you can read mine. If two people are in harmony with each other and there is mutual sympathy between them, then it is much easier for them to communicate mentally. For example, twins often maintain telepathic contact, and the thought of one echoes in the brain of the other. Sometimes it is even difficult to determine who it originally belonged to.
- Mentor, you know that I can read the thoughts of almost everyone. How many people are capable of this? - I asked.
“You are very gifted, Lobsang,” he replied. - And received the right upbringing. Together we will develop your abilities even further, because a very difficult task awaits you.
He shook his head solemnly.
- Incredibly difficult. In ancient times, humanity was able to telepathically communicate with the animal world. In the future, when it realizes the stupidity of wars, this gift will return. And again, Man and Animal will live in peace, without causing harm to each other.
A gong sounded below. Then trumpets were heard and Lama Mingyar Dondup jumped to his feet.
- We need to hurry up. Lobsang, he said. - The temple service begins. “I quickly got up, straightened my clothes and hurried after the Mentor, who was almost out of sight.
The great temple seemed like a living being. From the high roof, endless expanses opened up in front of me. We arrived here this afternoon on a special mission. Now that the Lama had retired to one of the high dignitaries, I was free to go wherever I wished. Taking advantage of the unexpected freedom, I climbed between the mighty rafters that held up the roof. It was a great place to observe. Stealthily, I walked along the path laid along the edge of the roof, when I suddenly came across a small door. I decided to take a chance and pushed her. The door opened, and, not hearing angry shouts, I looked through the slightly opened crack. It was empty inside. Upon entering, I found myself in a cramped room that looked like a cell cut into the wall. Behind me there was a small wooden door, the walls were blank on both sides, and in front I saw a stone ledge about three feet high.
I took a few steps forward and knelt down next to the ledge. It came right up to my chin. Feeling like God looking down from Heaven upon mere mortals, I looked down upon the dull stone floor of the temple from a great height. The purple twilight gave way to darkness. The sun, before hiding behind the mountain peaks for a long time, gave them its last rays. And they scattered like a rainbow shower across the dazzling whiteness of the eternal snows.
The darkness in the temple was brought into relief by hundreds of flickering oil lamps. The lamps, like grains of gold, emitted only a faint glow. It seemed as if the sky had turned upside down and the stars were under my feet. Ominous shadows crawled secretly under the columns. Sometimes narrow and oblong, sometimes short and thick, but always bizarre and absurd, they turned the ordinary into the strange and unearthly.
I looked down in amazement, as if I was between worlds. I could not say with certainty what I really saw and what I just dreamed. Clouds of bluish smoke floated between me and the floor. The smoke from the incense rose layer by layer, further enhancing the impression that I was looking at the Earth through the clouds.
Young pious chelas were swinging censers, from which smoke slowly billowed. They walked silently, with frozen faces. A wave - and millions of lights, reflected in the gold of the censers, scattered in splashes of sparkling rays. From above I saw how, with the movement of air, the smoldering incense suddenly caught fire and stars of sparks flared up and died. The smoke of incense created voluminous blue columns behind the brow; rising higher, it gathered into a cloud, and at the slightest breath of wind it wriggled into bizarre rings. It seemed that through a veil of fog I could see the breathing of a sleeping person. I was hypnotized by the thought of being inside a living organism. I heard the sounds of his body, the sounds of life itself.
Through the fog, through the clouds of incense smoke, close ranks of lamas, traps and chelas could be seen. They sat cross-legged on the floor, and their endless rows were lost from sight, disappearing into the distant niches of the temple. Dressed in the colors of their orders, from above their ranks looked like a homemade blanket, sewn from multi-colored scraps. Gold, saffron, brown, red and very rare splashes of gray. As soon as their owners moved, the colors came to life, beginning to flow into each other. At the head of the temple sat the Most High, His Holiness the Dalai Lama in His Thirteenth Incarnation, the most revered figure in the entire Buddhist world.
I listened to the low-voiced singing of the lamas, punctuated by the treble of small chelas. I watched the clouds of incense sway in harmony with the bass line. The lights in the darkness flared up brighter, the incense flared up and scattered in a fireworks display of golden sparks. The service continued, and I was still on my knees. I stood and watched the shadows dancing along the walls, grow and die, looked at the shining needles of light, barely aware of where I was and what was happening to me.
The old lama left the ranks of his brothers in the order. His figure bent under the weight of years that cannot be counted. The traps, carrying incense sticks and lamps in their hands, carefully surrounded him. Having bowed to the Dalai Lama, he began to slowly turn around, bowing to the four cardinal directions. Finally he turned to the crowd and sang in an unexpectedly strong voice for his age:
- Listen to the voices of our souls! This is a world of illusions. Life on Earth is just a dream, which lasts for a moment in Eternal Life. Listen to the voices of our souls, you all who are oppressed. The sad life of the shadows will come to an end, and the sun of Eternal Life will shine upon the righteous. Let us burn incense for the first time to guide restless souls!
The trappa came forward and bowed to the Dalai Lama, after which he bowed to the four cardinal directions. Then he lit the stick and pointed it in four directions. The low singing began again and broke off, but was immediately picked up by the high voices of the young chelas. The heavyset lama recited passages from holy books from memory, emphasizing the rhythm with the ringing of a silver bell. Of course, the source of his bubbling energy was the presence of the Tallest. At times his voice dropped to complete silence, and then he quietly looked around, wanting to make sure that the action was going well.
The old lama stepped forward again and repeated the greeting. Now another trap stood ready. Even from here it was clear how excited he was by the presence of the head of state and religion. The old lama sang:
- Listen to the voices of our souls! This is a world of illusions. Life on Earth is a test in which we will purify ourselves and soar. Listen to the voices of our souls, all of you who are tormented by doubts! Soon the memory of Earthly Life will be erased, peace and deliverance from suffering will come. Let us burn incense for the second time to guide troubled souls
The chanting of the monks intensified and grew. Trappa lit a second stick and pointed it at the four corners. It seemed as if the walls of the temple were breathing, swaying to the rhythm of the singing. Ghosts surrounded the old lama. The souls of those who died early were condemned to wander aimlessly alone.
The shadows trembled as if writhing in pain. My consciousness, perception and even feelings were tossed between two worlds. In one thing, I was delighted and could not take my eyes off the service. In another, I saw an intermediate world in which the souls of the dead trembled with fear of the mystery of the unknown. Outcasts, shrouded in sticky, dank darkness, they groaned in horror and loneliness. They stood motionless, like yaks stuck in a swamp. Away from people, separated even from each other, punished for lack of faith. Suddenly, singing burst into the viscous darkness of the intermediate world, broken only by the bluish glow of ghosts. It was the voice of the old lama:
- Listen to the voices of our souls! This is a world of illusions. Just as a person dies in the Supreme Reality in order to be born on Earth, so he must die on Earth in order to be reborn in the Supreme Reality. There is no death, there is only birth. The pain of death is only the pain of birth. Let us burn abundant incense to guide suffering souls!
A mental order reached my consciousness:
- Lobsang! Where are you? Come to me quickly!
It took me a lot of effort to return to this world. Moving with difficulty on numb legs, I hobbled towards the exit.
“I’m already on my way,” I mentally answered the Mentor.
I opened the door and the cold of the night hit me in the face. After the hot, incense-scented air of the temple, my eyes watered. Stumbling, high above the ground, I groped my way to the Mentor, who was waiting for me in the room directly above the main entrance. When he saw me he laughed and exclaimed:
- Lord, Lobsang! You look like you just saw a ghost!
- Teacher! - I responded. - I saw many!
“We will spend the night here,” said the Lama, “and tomorrow we will go to the Supreme Oracle.” You will learn a lot of interesting things. Well, now it’s time for us to eat and... sleep.
All my attention while eating was absorbed by thoughts about what I had seen in the temple. Why is this world a world of illusions? Having quickly eaten dinner, I went to my room. There, wrapped in clothes, I lay down and soon fell asleep.
All night I was haunted by nightmare visions. I dreamed that I woke up and stood up. I saw huge balls of something rushing towards me, like clouds of dust raised by the wind. Small dots appeared in the distance. Quickly approaching, they grew and grew, turning into multi-colored balls. Having reached the size of a human head, they flew next to me. In my dream - if it was a dream! - I couldn’t turn around and see what was happening to them next. There were only balls, endless balls, appearing from nowhere and flying away to nowhere. I was terribly surprised that not one of the balls crashed into me. They looked solid, but they seemed insubstantial to me.
I woke up with a shock. A voice was heard nearby, terrible in its suddenness:
- Just as a ghost sees the solid and strong walls of the temple, so you see them now!
I shuddered with a terrible feeling. Maybe I'm already dead? Maybe I died during the night? But why do I worry about death? After all, I already know that death is nothing more than rebirth! I lay down and after a while fell asleep again.
The whole world was shaking and screaming like crazy. I jumped up in fear, thinking that the temple was about to fall on me. It was a dark night. Only the stars twinkled ghostly, casting dim reflections of light onto the earth. I looked straight ahead and the hair stood on end on my head. Horror gripped me. I couldn't move a single finger: the world was growing. The smooth surface of the stone walls became rough and turned into the porous lava of a cooled volcano. The cracks grew, and I saw that it was inhabited by nightmarish creatures. Lama Mingyar Dondup once showed me something similar using a powerful German microscope.
The world grew and grew, the terrible creatures reached such a size that I could already see their pores. The world was getting bigger, and it dawned on me that I was getting smaller. It seemed to me that a sandstorm was approaching me. Grains of sand roared past, but none of them had hit me yet. They grew rapidly. At first they were the size of a human head, then - the size of the Himalayas. They continued to grow until I lost all concept of time and space. In my dream I lay among the stars, cold and motionless, while galaxies rushed past me and disappeared into the distance. It's hard to say how long this lasted. It seemed to me that I lay there forever. Finally, all the galaxies, all the countless universes returned to me. "End!" - a vague thought flashed through as many worlds collapsed on me.
- Lobsang! Lobsang! Have you gone to Paradise Fields?
The voice boomed and echoed throughout the universe, bouncing off worlds... bouncing off the walls of my stone tomb. I opened my eyes with pain and tried to focus them. Above me hung a cluster of very bright stars that seemed strangely familiar and slowly disappeared, giving way to the kind face of Lama Mingyar Dondup. He shook me tenderly. A bright light burst into the room. The sun's ray illuminated the dust particles, and they shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow.
-Lobsang! The morning passes. I let you sleep, and now it’s time to eat - and we’ll hit the road.
I rose wearily to my feet. I felt uneasy, my head seemed too big, and my mind still lived among the night visions. Having tied up my meager belongings, I went in search of tsampa, our usual food. I went down ladder, clinging to it for fear of falling down to where the monks-cooks wandered idle.
“I came for food,” I mumbled plaintively.
- Food? At this time? Get away! - the voice of the elder thundered. He had already extended his hand to give me a blow when a hoarse whisper was heard:
- He is with Lama Mingyar Dondup.
The head monk-cook jumped up as if he had been stung by a wasp and growled at his assistant:
- Well? So what are you waiting for? Serve the young gentleman breakfast!
I usually have enough barley with me. I carry it in a leather pouch, like every monk has. But during the trip my supplies were pretty depleted. In general, any monk carries with him a leather bag of barley and a bowl from which he eats. From a mixture of barley and tea with butter, tsampa is obtained - the main Tibetan dish. If monastery kitchens decided to print a menu, it would consist of a single word - tsampa!
Having recovered a little after eating, I joined the Mentor, and we rode on horseback to the Monastery of the Supreme Oracle. We were silent during the journey. My horse was remarkably agile, and I had to devote all my attention to staying on top. When we drove along the Lingkhor road, the travelers, noticing the high rank of my Mentor, asked him for blessings. Having received it, they continued the Holy Circle, feeling at least halfway to salvation. We soon passed the willow grove and emerged onto the rocky path leading to the Oracle House. In the courtyard, the monk accepted the horses, and I jumped to the ground with relief.
It was crowded here. Even the highest lamas traveled all over the country to be here. The Oracle was just about to make contact with the forces that rule the World. By special agreement and by personal order of the Highest, I had to be present too. We were shown a room to stay for the night. I was assigned a place in the room of Lama Mingyar Dondup, and not in the bedroom with the other chelas. As we passed by a small temple, which was located inside the main building, I heard singing: “Hark to the voices of our souls; this world is a world of illusions.”
- Sir! - I turned to my Mentor when we were alone. - How is it that this world is a “world of illusions”?
He looked at me and smiled.
- What then do you think is real? - he answered. - You touch the wall, and your fingers rest against the stone. Therefore, you think that a wall is a real solid obstacle that cannot be penetrated. Outside the window you see the Himalaya mountain range, which stands indestructible, like the skeleton of the Earth. However, a ghost or your astral body can pass through stone mountains with the same ease with which you pass through air.
- And yet, what does “illusion” have to do with it? - I asked. - Last night I had a dream that was a real illusion. Now I don’t even want to think about him!
My Guide listened with infinite patience as I related my dream to him. When I finished he said:
- In the future, I will definitely tell you about the world of illusions. However, now is not the time for this, since we must listen to the Oracle first.
The Supreme Oracle turned out to be a surprisingly young man. He was thin and very sickly in appearance. I was introduced to him, and his attentive eyes enlightened me through and through, which sent shivers down my spine.
- I see! You are the one. Now everything is clear to me,” he said. - You are endowed with unusual abilities, and soon you will gain knowledge. See you later.
My beloved friend, Lama Mingyar Dondup, was flattered.
- You successfully pass test after test, Lobsang! - he exclaimed. - Now let’s go, sit in the Sanctuary of the Gods and talk.
He continued to smile the entire time we walked.
“The time has come to talk about the world of illusions, Lobsang,” he noted.
The Mentor knew that there was no one in the Sanctuary at that time. Oil lamps flickered in front of the sacred statues, and therefore their shadows moved as if performing some kind of exotic dance. The smoke from the incense curled upward, forming whole clouds above our heads. We sat together near the pulpit from which the reader recited lines from the scriptures. We sat in a meditation position, with our legs crossed and our palms placed on top of each other.
“This is a world of illusions,” said my Mentor, “from which we appeal to souls so that they hear us, because only souls exist in the world of reality.” You know very well what we say: “Listen to the voices of our souls.” We don’t say, “Listen to the voices of our bodies.” Listen to me carefully and do not interrupt, I will now explain to you the foundations of our secret faith. Later I will explain to you why people, while they are imperfect, should rely on the belief that they are cared for by a benevolent father or mother. And only when a person reaches a certain stage of spiritual development will he be able to accept what I am now going to tell you about.
I looked intently at the Mentor, thinking that he himself was the whole world to me. At that moment, most of all I wanted us to always be together.
“We are creatures of the Spirit,” he said. - We are like electrical charges that are endowed with intelligence. This life is given to us as a test, and this world is Hell, in which the rough physical body suffers and is hardened, and the Spirit is purified. Just as a puppet is powered by strings in the hands of the puppeteer, our body is connected through electrical fields to our Higher Self, or Spirit. A good puppeteer can create the illusion that wooden dolls are alive, that they act of their own free will. And we, too, until we learn a lot, believe that our life is limited to the physical body. In an environment unfavorable for the Spirit, such as the Earth, we forget that we are controlled by the soul. We believe that we have free will and are responsible only to our conscience. This, Lobsang, is the first illusion to which people are subject. They believe that the physical body, that is, the doll, controls itself.
He stopped, uh
LOBSANG RAMP
CAVES OF THE ANCIENTS
(spiritual journey continues)
Dedicated
Max and Valeria Sorok
- two seekers of Truth.
PREFACE
This is a book about the occult and human capabilities, intended for ordinary people. There are no “unintelligible words” in it, no terms in Sanskrit or other dead languages. The average person wants learn new, not solve riddles about what words mean, which sometimes the writer himself does not understand! If a writer knows what he is writing about, he can write in English, since he does not need to hide gaps in his knowledge by using foreign words.
These days, many people find themselves caught in the trap of meaningless words. The Laws of Life are in fact extremely simple, and therefore there is no need to surround them with mystical rituals and create new pseudo-religions. There is also no need to proclaim new “divine revelations”, because “revelations” can reach any a person, if only he makes some effort for this.
No religion holds the Keys to Heaven, and no one will ever be condemned to hell for walking into church wearing a hat instead of taking off their shoes. On the gates of Tibetan monasteries are inscribed the words: “A thousand monks - a thousand religions.” Whatever you believe, if you “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” you will get yours when the show comes to an end.
Some argue that Secret Knowledge can be obtained only when a person begins to profess one or another cult and, moreover, does not forget to pay a tidy sum. And the Laws of Life say: “He who seeks will find.”
This book is the fruit of a long life and tells of the unusual abilities acquired by its author in the great Lamaist monasteries of Tibet, where he was taught to follow the Laws of Life. It will talk about the experience of people of bygone times, about the knowledge that is captured in the Egyptian pyramids, in the sacred temples of the Andes and in the world's greatest treasury of occult knowledge - the mountains of Tibet.
T. Lobsang Rampa
THE CENTER OF WORLDS
It was a warm evening. Surprisingly warm and pleasant for this time of year. The sweetish aroma of incense, slowly spreading through the air, evoked calm. In the distance, behind the high wall of the Himalayas, the sun was setting in a triumphant glow. It painted the mountain tops in blood-red tones, as if predicting future bloody events in Tibet.
The elongated shadows of the twin peaks Potala and Chakpori slowly crawled towards Lhasa. Below them on the right, a belated caravan of traders from India was making its way to the Pargo Kaling, or Western Gate. The last of the pious wanderers, with haste inappropriate for these people, as if afraid of the quickly approaching velvet darkness, ran along the Lingkor road.
Kai-Chu, or the Happy River, flowed with a joyful murmur along an endless path to the sea. It crumbled into a thousand little suns, paying tribute to the passing day. Lhasa flickered faintly with the golden reflections of oil lamps. From the monastery at the foot of the Potala a trumpet announced the end of the day; its sounds, reflected from the rocks, echoing throughout the valley, returned completely different.
I gazed intently at the familiar picture. Hundreds of monks behind hundreds of windows were completing their daily tasks. From the roof of a tall building that stood directly behind the Golden Tomb, a small figure looked down, distant and seemingly terribly alone. When the last rays of the sun sank into the mountains, the trumpeter sounded the trumpet again, and low sounds of singing rushed upward from the temple at the foot. Soon the darkness deepened, and the stars shone in the sky like jewels framed in purple. A meteor streaked through the sky and flared brightly before falling to Earth in a pinch of smoking dust.
“Wonderful night, Lobsang,” a beloved voice came from the darkness.
“Indeed, she is wonderful,” I responded, hastily jumping to my feet to bow to greet Lama Mingyar Dondup.
He sat down against the wall and motioned for me to sit next to him.
Can you imagine, Lobsang, that you, me, all people are like this! - he said, pointing up.
I looked at him silently. How can I be like the stars in the night sky? The Lama was a large, handsome man with noble features. But it also faintly resembled star clusters.
We are exactly the same, exactly the same,” he laughed. - I wanted to explain to you that things are not always what they seem to us. Write “Om mani padme hum” so that the inscription covers the entire valley and people will not be able to read it. It will be too big for them.
He interrupted his speech, looked at me and, making sure that I was following his explanation, continued:
So are the stars. They're just too big for us to see what they're really like. compiled.
I looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Something compiled from the stars? Stars are... because they are stars! I tried to imagine an inscription that was impossible to read due to its gigantic size. A gentle voice interrupted my exercises:
Imagine that you are shrinking, shrinking, becoming the size of a grain of sand. How will you see me then? May you become even smaller. Now a grain of sand is the whole world for you. How will I appear to you then?
He fell silent for a moment and gave me a questioning look.
Well? So what will you see?
My brain was paralyzed. With my mouth open in bewilderment, I probably looked like a fish that had just washed up on the shore.
“Lobsang,” he said, “will reveal to you a scattering of worlds floating in the darkness. Thanks to your size, the molecules of my body will become worlds to you. You will see how worlds revolve around worlds, you will see “suns” - molecules of psychic centers, you will see the universe!
My brain creaked like an ungreased cart. I could have sworn that something in my head was trembling with tension as I tried to comprehend this amazing and unknown knowledge.
My Guide, Lama Mingyar Dondup, leaned forward and gently took my chin.
Lobsang! - he grinned. - Yes, your eyes are already tired of wanting to follow me.
Smiling, he sat down again and, giving me just a few minutes to recover, continued:
Look at your clothes! Feel her!
I did as he said. Looking at the tattered rags, I felt quite stupid. The Lama continued:
This is fabric. It feels smooth to the touch. In light - opaque. But suppose you look at it through a tenfold magnifying glass. Imagine a thick strand of wool, each hair ten times thicker than it is now. You will be able to distinguish gaps between the fibers. Magnify it a million times and you can ride through it. And each hair will be so huge that you can hardly climb it.
What he was talking about was generally clear. I sat silently and thought.
“You look like a decrepit old woman,” he laughed.
“Sir,” I finally decided to ask. - So, does this mean that all living things are just a void in which worlds are scattered?
“It’s not that simple,” he replied. - Sit back and I’ll tell you a little about the Knowledge that we discovered in the Cave of the Ancients.
Cave of the Ancients! - I screamed enthusiastically. - You were going to tell me about her and about the expedition.
Don't worry, we'll get there. But now I will tell you about Life and about Man what the ancients knew about them during the time of Atlantis.
Deep down, I was much more interested in the Cave itself, recently discovered by an expedition of high lamas. Since the times of ancient civilizations, its depths have stored unprecedented reserves of knowledge and practical information. But, knowing the Mentor well, I understood that it was useless to wait for the story before the time came for it.
In the sky above us, through the transparent haze of the clean air of Tibet, the stars shone in all their glory. In churches and monasteries, the lights went out one after another. The pitiful howl of a dog was heard, brought from somewhere far away by a barely perceptible night breeze. A lazy answering bark came from the village of Sho, directly below us. Not a single cloud floated past the newly risen moon. The flags hung limply from the masts. Somewhere, a prayer wheel creaked faintly - a pious monk, entangled in superstition and unaware of reality, turned it in the vain hope of earning God's favor.
Hearing this sound, my Guide smiled and said:
To each according to faith, to each according to need. Many people enjoy ceremonial events and rituals. There is no point in condemning those who have not walked far enough along the Path and cannot yet stand without crutches. I want to tell you, Lobsang, about the essence of man.
LOBSANG RAMP
CAVES OF THE ANCIENTS
(spiritual journey continues)
Dedicated
Max and Valeria Sorok
- two seekers of Truth.
PREFACE
This is a book about the occult and human capabilities, intended for ordinary people. There are no “unintelligible words” in it, no terms in Sanskrit or other dead languages. The average person wants learn new, not solve riddles about what words mean, which sometimes the writer himself does not understand! If a writer knows what he is writing about, he can write in English, since he does not need to hide gaps in his knowledge by using foreign words.
These days, many people find themselves caught in the trap of meaningless words. The Laws of Life are in fact extremely simple, and therefore there is no need to surround them with mystical rituals and create new pseudo-religions. There is also no need to proclaim new “divine revelations”, because “revelations” can reach any a person, if only he makes some effort for this.
No religion holds the Keys to Heaven, and no one will ever be condemned to hell for walking into church wearing a hat instead of taking off their shoes. On the gates of Tibetan monasteries are inscribed the words: “A thousand monks - a thousand religions.” Whatever you believe, if you “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” you will get yours when the show comes to an end.
Some argue that Secret Knowledge can be obtained only when a person begins to profess one or another cult and, moreover, does not forget to pay a tidy sum. And the Laws of Life say: “He who seeks will find.”
This book is the fruit of a long life and tells of the unusual abilities acquired by its author in the great Lamaist monasteries of Tibet, where he was taught to follow the Laws of Life. It will talk about the experience of people of bygone times, about the knowledge that is captured in the Egyptian pyramids, in the sacred temples of the Andes and in the world's greatest treasury of occult knowledge - the mountains of Tibet.
T. Lobsang Rampa
THE CENTER OF WORLDS
It was a warm evening. Surprisingly warm and pleasant for this time of year. The sweetish aroma of incense, slowly spreading through the air, evoked calm. In the distance, behind the high wall of the Himalayas, the sun was setting in a triumphant glow. It painted the mountain tops in blood-red tones, as if predicting future bloody events in Tibet.
The elongated shadows of the twin peaks Potala and Chakpori slowly crawled towards Lhasa. Below them on the right, a belated caravan of traders from India was making its way to the Pargo Kaling, or Western Gate. The last of the pious wanderers, with haste inappropriate for these people, as if afraid of the quickly approaching velvet darkness, ran along the Lingkor road.
Kai-Chu, or the Happy River, flowed with a joyful murmur along an endless path to the sea. It crumbled into a thousand little suns, paying tribute to the passing day. Lhasa flickered faintly with the golden reflections of oil lamps. From the monastery at the foot of the Potala a trumpet announced the end of the day; its sounds, reflected from the rocks, echoing throughout the valley, returned completely different.
I gazed intently at the familiar picture. Hundreds of monks behind hundreds of windows were completing their daily tasks. From the roof of a tall building that stood directly behind the Golden Tomb, a small figure looked down, distant and seemingly terribly alone. When the last rays of the sun sank into the mountains, the trumpeter sounded the trumpet again, and low sounds of singing rushed upward from the temple at the foot. Soon the darkness deepened, and the stars shone in the sky like jewels framed in purple. A meteor streaked through the sky and flared brightly before falling to Earth in a pinch of smoking dust.
“Wonderful night, Lobsang,” a beloved voice came from the darkness.
“Indeed, she is wonderful,” I responded, hastily jumping to my feet to bow to greet Lama Mingyar Dondup.
He sat down against the wall and motioned for me to sit next to him.
Can you imagine, Lobsang, that you, me, all people are like this! - he said, pointing up.
I looked at him silently. How can I be like the stars in the night sky? The Lama was a large, handsome man with noble features. But it also faintly resembled star clusters.
We are exactly the same, exactly the same,” he laughed. - I wanted to explain to you that things are not always what they seem to us. Write “Om mani padme hum” so that the inscription covers the entire valley and people will not be able to read it. It will be too big for them.
He interrupted his speech, looked at me and, making sure that I was following his explanation, continued:
So are the stars. They're just too big for us to see what they're really like. compiled.
I looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Something compiled from the stars? Stars are... because they are stars! I tried to imagine an inscription that was impossible to read due to its gigantic size. A gentle voice interrupted my exercises:
Imagine that you are shrinking, shrinking, becoming the size of a grain of sand. How will you see me then? May you become even smaller. Now a grain of sand is the whole world for you. How will I appear to you then?
He fell silent for a moment and gave me a questioning look.
Well? So what will you see?
My brain was paralyzed. With my mouth open in bewilderment, I probably looked like a fish that had just washed up on the shore.
“Lobsang,” he said, “will reveal to you a scattering of worlds floating in the darkness. Thanks to your size, the molecules of my body will become worlds to you. You will see how worlds revolve around worlds, you will see “suns” - molecules of psychic centers, you will see the universe!
My brain creaked like an ungreased cart. I could have sworn that something in my head was trembling with tension as I tried to comprehend this amazing and unknown knowledge.
My Guide, Lama Mingyar Dondup, leaned forward and gently took my chin.
Lobsang! - he grinned. - Yes, your eyes are already tired of wanting to follow me.
Smiling, he sat down again and, giving me just a few minutes to recover, continued:
Look at your clothes! Feel her!
LOBSANG RAMP CAVES OF THE ANCIENTS (spiritual journey continues)
Lobsang Rampa
The spiritual journey continues.
“A defiantly true story about a person’s penetration into the great mystery of life and enlightenment...”
This is a life path that could have been destroyed forever, a spiritual culture with roots going back to Ancient Times, which belongs to the Lamaist monasteries of Tibet.
"Caves of the Ancients" is a book about how Lobsang Rampa walked the path of self-awareness in these ancient repositories of wisdom, where lamas comprehend the meaning of life and death, where the mystical connection between the mind and the brain is revealed, where the secrets of clairvoyance, hypnosis and reincarnation are part of everyday life .
Here Rampa also learns power, but not for destruction and abuse of power over people, because the energy of Supreme Enlightenment and Universal Knowledge exists only for the chosen few, called to save this world.
The miracles he describes are presented with great taste and humor, and the author does not impose his opinion on us, but only offers his good will.
Dedicated
Max and Valeria Sorok
To two seekers of Truth.
PREFACE
This is a book about the occult and human capabilities, intended for ordinary people. There are no “unintelligible words” in it, no terms in Sanskrit or other dead languages. An ordinary person wants to learn new things, and not to solve riddles about what words mean, which the writer himself sometimes does not understand! If a writer knows what he is writing about, he can write in English, since he does not need to hide gaps in his knowledge by using foreign words.
These days, many people find themselves caught in the trap of meaningless words. The Laws of Life are in reality extremely simple, and therefore there is no need to surround them with mystical rituals and create new pseudo-religions. There is also no need to proclaim new “divine revelations”, because “revelation” can be achieved by any person if only he makes some effort for this.
No religion holds the Keys to Heaven, and no one will ever be condemned to hell for walking into church wearing a hat instead of taking off their shoes. On the gates of Tibetan monasteries are inscribed the words: “A thousand monks - a thousand religions.” Whatever you believe, if you “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” you will get yours when the show comes to an end.
Some argue that Secret Knowledge can be obtained only when a person begins to profess one or another cult and, moreover, does not forget to pay a tidy sum. And the Laws of Life say: “He who seeks will find.”
This book is the fruit of a long life and tells of the unusual abilities acquired by its author in the great Lamaist monasteries of Tibet, where he was taught to follow the Laws of Life. It will talk about the experience of people of bygone times, about the knowledge that is captured in the Egyptian pyramids, in the sacred temples of the Andes and in the world's greatest treasury of occult knowledge - the mountains of Tibet.
T. Lobsang Rampa
Chapter 1 THE CENTER OF WORLDS
It was a warm evening. Surprisingly warm and pleasant for this time of year. The sweetish aroma of incense, slowly spreading through the air, evoked calm. In the distance, behind the high wall of the Himalayas, the sun was setting in a triumphant glow. It painted the mountain tops in blood-red tones, as if predicting future bloody events in Tibet.
The elongated shadows of the twin peaks Potala and Chakpori slowly crawled towards Lhasa. Below them on the right, a belated caravan of traders from India was making its way to the Pargo Kaling, or Western Gate. The last of the pious wanderers, with haste inappropriate for these people, as if afraid of the quickly approaching velvet darkness, ran along the Lingkor road.
Kai-Chu, or the Happy River, flowed with a joyful murmur along an endless path to the sea. It crumbled into a thousand little suns, paying tribute to the passing day. Lhasa flickered faintly with the golden reflections of oil lamps. From the monastery at the foot of the Potala a trumpet announced the end of the day; its sounds, reflected from the rocks, echoing throughout the valley, returned completely different.
I gazed intently at the familiar picture. Hundreds of monks behind hundreds of windows were completing their daily tasks. From the roof of a tall building that stood directly behind the Golden Tomb, a small figure looked down, distant and seemingly terribly alone. When the last rays of the sun sank into the mountains, the trumpeter sounded the trumpet again, and low sounds of singing rushed upward from the temple at the foot. Soon the darkness deepened, and the stars shone in the sky like jewels framed in purple. A meteor streaked through the sky and flared brightly before falling to Earth in a pinch of smoking dust.
“Wonderful night, Lobsang,” a beloved voice came from the darkness.
“Indeed, she is wonderful,” I responded, hastily jumping to my feet to bow to greet Lama Mingyar Dondup.
He sat down against the wall and motioned for me to sit next to him.
Can you imagine, Lobsang, that you, me, all people are like this! - he said, pointing up.
I looked at him silently. How can I be like the stars in the night sky? The Lama was a large, handsome man with noble features. But it also faintly resembled star clusters.
We are exactly the same, exactly the same,” he laughed. - I wanted to explain to you that things are not always what they seem to us. Write “Om mani padme hum” so that the inscription covers the entire valley and people will not be able to read it. It will be too big for them.
He interrupted his speech, looked at me and, making sure that I was following his explanation, continued:
So are the stars. They are just too big for us to see what is actually made up of them.
I looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Is something made up of stars? Stars are... because they are stars! I tried to imagine an inscription that was impossible to read due to its gigantic size. A gentle voice interrupted my exercises:
Imagine that you are shrinking, shrinking, becoming the size of a grain of sand. How will you see me then? May you become even smaller. Now a grain of sand is the whole world for you. How will I appear to you then?
He fell silent for a moment and gave me a questioning look.
Well? So what will you see?
My brain was paralyzed. With my mouth open in bewilderment, I probably looked like a fish that had just washed up on the shore.
“Lobsang,” he said, “will reveal to you a scattering of worlds floating in the darkness. Thanks to your size, the molecules of my body will become worlds to you. You will see how worlds revolve around worlds, you will see “suns” - molecules of psychic centers, you will see the universe!
My brain creaked like an ungreased cart. I could have sworn that something in my head was trembling with tension as I tried to comprehend this amazing and unknown knowledge.
My Guide, Lama Mingyar Dondup, leaned forward and gently took my chin.
Lobsang! - he grinned. - Yes, your eyes are already tired of wanting to follow me.
Smiling, he sat down again and, giving me just a few minutes to recover, continued:
Look at your clothes! Feel her!
I did as he said. Looking at the tattered rags, I felt quite stupid. The Lama continued:
This is fabric. It feels smooth to the touch. In light - opaque. But suppose you look at it through a tenfold magnifying glass. Imagine a thick strand of wool, each hair ten times thicker than it is now. You will be able to distinguish gaps between the fibers. Magnify it a million times and you can ride through it. And each hair will be so huge that you can hardly climb it.
What he was talking about was generally clear. I sat silently and thought.
“You look like a decrepit old woman,” he laughed.
“Sir,” I finally decided to ask. - So, does this mean that all living things are just a void in which worlds are scattered?
“It’s not that simple,” he replied. - Sit back and I’ll tell you a little about the Knowledge that we discovered in the Cave of the Ancients.
Cave of the Ancients! - I screamed enthusiastically. - You were going to tell me about her and about the expedition.
Don't worry, we'll get there. But now I will tell you about Life and about Man what the ancients knew about them during the time of Atlantis.
Deep down, I was much more interested in the Cave itself, recently discovered by an expedition of high lamas. Since the times of ancient civilizations, its depths have stored unprecedented reserves of knowledge and practical information. But, knowing the Mentor well, I understood that it was useless to wait for the story before the time came for it.
In the sky above us, through the transparent haze of the clean air of Tibet, the stars shone in all their glory. In churches and monasteries, the lights went out one after another. The pitiful howl of a dog was heard, brought from somewhere far away by a barely perceptible night breeze. A lazy answering bark came from the village of Sho, directly below us. Not a single area...
Annotation
The spiritual journey continues.
“A defiantly true story about a person’s penetration into the great mystery of life and enlightenment...”
"Caves of the Ancients" is a book about how Lobsang Rampa walked the path of self-awareness in these ancient repositories of wisdom, where lamas comprehend the meaning of life and death, where the mystical connection between the mind and the brain is revealed, where the secrets of clairvoyance, hypnosis and reincarnation are part of everyday life .
The miracles he describes are presented with great taste and humor, and the author does not impose his opinion on us, but only offers his good will.
LOBSANG RAMP
CAVES OF THE ANCIENTS
(spiritual journey continues)
Dedicated
Max and Valeria Sorok
- two seekers of Truth.
PREFACE
This is a book about the occult and human capabilities, intended for ordinary people. There are no “unintelligible words” in it, no terms in Sanskrit or other dead languages. The average person wants learn new, not solve riddles about what words mean, which sometimes the writer himself does not understand! If a writer knows what he is writing about, he can write in English, since he does not need to hide gaps in his knowledge by using foreign words.
These days, many people find themselves caught in the trap of meaningless words. The Laws of Life are in fact extremely simple, and therefore there is no need to surround them with mystical rituals and create new pseudo-religions. There is also no need to proclaim new “divine revelations”, because “revelations” can reach any a person, if only he makes some effort for this.
No religion holds the Keys to Heaven, and no one will ever be condemned to hell for walking into church wearing a hat instead of taking off their shoes. On the gates of Tibetan monasteries are inscribed the words: “A thousand monks - a thousand religions.” Whatever you believe, if you “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” you will get yours when the show comes to an end.
Some argue that Secret Knowledge can be obtained only when a person begins to profess one or another cult and, moreover, does not forget to pay a tidy sum. And the Laws of Life say: “He who seeks will find.”
This book is the fruit of a long life and tells of the unusual abilities acquired by its author in the great Lamaist monasteries of Tibet, where he was taught to follow the Laws of Life. It will talk about the experience of people of bygone times, about the knowledge that is captured in the Egyptian pyramids, in the sacred temples of the Andes and in the world's greatest treasury of occult knowledge - the mountains of Tibet.
T. Lobsang Rampa
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