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“Faça o que quiseres pois é tudo da Lei”.
And let’s make them 7 … :)
7. Has Socrate commited suicide and why? He has used an extraordinary methid to make his dicipols THINK.
Good evening,
I would like to suggest to Mr.Coelho to make a selection of his most representative TV interviews, save them on a DVD and just drop it on the market. I am sure many will fight to get at least one copy. I will be one…We need to see you live also, please! :) :) :)
Now, I would like to suggest other subjects of discussion such as:
1. How one can know or be sure he has a revelation or it is just a false impression?
(I bet there are many people that at least once a life had a strong feeling or urge to transmit a certain spiritual message to someone else, or just got instantly iluminated and many misteries just “Boof!” were discovered…What is this feeling sometimes one has, as he just received some kind of message from universal counsciousness to get clariffied certain problems or dilemas…? Is that person necessarily a sick one, a creazy freak one, or …yes, it could be for real? Is it possible that so many people from so different countries and cultures, races, age, social status, to be freak about simmilar “feelings” or “revelations”?…
2. Let’s talk about “my instinct said I shouldn’t trust x person”…About the sixth sense.
3. Why do we generaly feel in danger or unsecure?
4. In Mr. Coelho travels, which of the actual cultures do you consider to be closer then others to the what a healthy spiritual life should be? What mix of them would be te best for our souls?
5. What is this religious organization Kambala lead by the singer Madonna? We all know the sexual conotation she promoted during her entire career, her aproach to the church stuff and symbols, …And also:
6. What is this new fashion of VIPs to adopt children from poor countries, almost buying them like from within a supermarket? I personally don’t buy their “charity” acts. I won’t be surprised if they use something from children to make the VIPs look youger and stronger. We have seen so many movies about clones and people killed for their organs…I am looking to Madonna, ahe tries to attrakt many influencial VIPs in her organization. I feel so sorry for Britney Spears as she got into Madonna’s Kambala, then she gave birth to 2 children, even if she was nor prepared to be a mom…and look now, she went crazy with all her life and career…Also Tom Cruise entered this organization, brought a very young new wife which gave him a baby…Babies everywhere in VIPs lifes. Something sucks in Paradise…Do they prepare adepts, follower or perhaps a kind of army? beacause singers are so popular ad public persons and could get many adepts quickly…
Thnk you.
Thank you for all ur books!
Create A Castle…
When Abraham says, that “it is as easy to create a castle as a button” he means it literally. However the creation of a button – you go in a shop i.e. and just buy one – is considered as much more easy than to own a big castle. We are accustomed to buttons. We have no doubt that we can buy them anytime, but in general we doubt that we can create a caste – which is in this case just a symbol for any great desire that one may have.
The easy castle creation requires however the activation of some mental tools – pure thought, trust and therefore no doubts and a deep knowing of the own abilities. One has to keep the desire so pure in mind – be so focused – that there is no place for any contradictory thought. By imagining the desire in this way and generating therefore the adequate feelings the Universe cannot but deliver.
Read more…
Thank you all, thank you Catherine Martinez and thank you Ahmad Eddeeb for the ‘Butterflies’ story.
LOVE,
Thelma
The Child Who was King
======================
It was a lazy summer afternoon. The village was quite, most residents were trying to catch a siesta, in their bedroom; pulling all the curtains to make it as dark as possible. All asleep barring the stray dog named Lalu, he was walking happily behind the child of eight; he is the leader, soon joined by his fellow kinsmen, in their adventure to raid another garden full of mangoes, guavas, berries and date juice. Winning all their booty, they trek back to their castle. The king proudly shared the spoils with all him follwers. They cheered for the king.
The lazy afternoon, the dark shades of the Amrul tree, the still green water of the pond, and the woodpecker in the coconut tree watched in awe. The king enjoyed his life while the pond washed his feet. The king wished let there be no tomorrow, and the summer sun was the witness. He smiled!
The busy footpath of the metro, didn’t notice the little traveler. The new teen, was trudging ahead, with the bag on his shoulder, made heavy by the pile of schoolbooks. He was lost, wondering about the place he has reached. He searched for the dark shadows of the Amrul tree; the winter breeze was cool, but the breeze beside the dark pond smelled like mother. All his followers pleaded the king not to go; yet he left. He didn’t have any option, but to move, to become the traveler he is now. He tries to remember, is this the promised land? Is this where he was supposed to find all that he dreamt for? Where is the green field where he used to flung his body when he felt tired?
No friends, no sign of life around. Surrounded by strangers in a even stranger world. A world where the wall you lean to gives way, where the “friends” you trust most, leaves you faster than they came. The world even Gulliver or Sindbad would be proud to visit. The traveler moves along. He remembers he was a king, and a king can’t lose. He looks up, and smiles; he knew he would win finally! He has to win!
The tinkle of the falling raindrops on the windowsill awakens the artiste. It was dark out side; is it night, he thought! The damp waft revealed the truth; it was raining. The world was celebrating life, the green earth lit the fire of inspiration, and the artiste was lost in his creations. He kept on creating them, unmindful of what happened to them afterwards. The king has arrived in the kingdom of Romanticism. He is the artiste now. He found her; or did SHE find him? Does it matter? He is king, he doesn’t think while giving. He is an artiste, who never stops while creating. He kept on painting the life, decorating it with the colors of love, affection and care. Lots of them were also left on his palate; he didn’t waste them; he used them to paint the smaller frames that were around him. So what if they were not masterpieces, at least they have color!
When the rain stopped – why did it stop? The artiste was standing alone. His masterpiece came to life. Consuming all his colors, all his efforts and all his dreams, it came to life. And it didn’t care for its creator. Why should it? I t had its own life. The artiste stood alone, under the scorching sun, with empty palate and brush in his hand, tired, lost. He looked around, searched for those smaller canvases. Even they were gone. Some might have fallen by the road, some picked by the passers by. Has the king lost his battle? Has the traveler lost his will to walk? Has the Artiste lost his colors? Why did the ‘tomorrow’ come? Why did the rain stop?
from:
http://spaces.msn.com/members/abode-of-horus/blog/cns!1pQrlC8QB–KbyuRlHQusIyA!202.entry
THE BUTTERFLIES
Long ago, butterflies were not visible to everybody, but one young boy could see them clearly most of the time. Even when he could not see the butterfly, he could feel the flapping of its colourful wings in his young heart. He would speak to the people around him about it, but they would pay no attention to him as none of them were able to see the butterflies and did not believe him.
One night, he dreamt of the butterflies flying high up to the giant white moon centered in the black sky. To his surprise, that day, a butterfly approached him shining in hundreds of colours and called him by name.
She said to him that she knew he could see her because she realized his eyes were following her, and that no one can see butterflies except for those with a pure and tender heart.
The boy asked the butterfly why wouldn’t she appear to all people so that they might see her beauty. Perhaps that would make their hearts tender.
She placed a light kiss on his finger and asked “Do you remember the feeling of your heart the first time you saw a butterfly?”. Then she flapped her wings two times and glided away the way butterflies love to.
Ahmad Eddeeb
June 2008
http://fen-noss.blogspot.com/2008/06/1.html
On Love and Suffering
Paradoxical as it may seem, man consciously unconscious inflict himself with pain. Man loves to suffer as much as he loves the feeling of being loved. Suffering for a higher cause. And that higher cause is another human being. The act of suffering through pain, most often emotional, at rare times physical, for somebody else’s benefit.
A mother sacrificing hours of sleep to nurse, feed and watch her baby in the middle of the night. A father sacrifices time and effort to be able to raise a family. A lover ‘unconditionally’ loves her partner as if the partner never cheated, betrayed, insulted, disrespected her. These are all concrete manifestations of that “love and suffering”.
Love and suffering. Two sides of the same coin. Coincides with one another. One exists for the purpose of the other. We want to suffer because we believe in the idea that to suffer more is to love more. We all want people to see as if we are carrying the entire world in our shoulders; as if were are in deep pain. And we want to be recognized as such, as someone who suffered for love.
But does it mean Love (in the real sense of the word)?
No.
Because it does not have to be seen as “sacrifice” or “suffering” or anything else for that matter. It is Love. Period.
Live today
Today I recieved a newsletter from Inkaspirit which courses I´m going to attend to in march.
And I was chocked …….
The teachers of this course and some other people had been in a severe accident.
http://southerington.wordpress.com/2008/12/23/injured-in-peru/
This article made me cry, but also made me see once again that we have to live today not waiting for tomorrow, then it can be to late.
I almost ended up in a serious accident myself in novemeber when I was going to a initiation with a quero from Peru.
I arrived to this initiation still having blood on my hands and in shock.
If I hadn´t turned around for a telephone number I had forgot I´m sure I would have ended up in this accident.
This took me 1 ½ minute extra and then I arrived the first car to this accident.
I jumped out of my car feeling an strong urge to help the people in there, even though I was scared as hell with which sight was going to meet me.
And the man in the backseat was stucked and couldn´t almost breath, but I talked to them in the car trying to calm them down.
Because I also know that you shell not move injured people then it can get worse if they have hurt any inner organ.
And also petrol was running under the car so I was thinking what if it´s going to be a fire?
Then I have to try to drag them out of the car.
So many things cross my mind.
And 15 minutes later the ambulance, and fire fighters came, and then I went back to my car.
And then I just set in the car watching everything like in a movie.
It felt unreal but I started to send healing to them in the car.
Then a helicopter came and flow away the most injured men, and I prayed and send more healing.
I couldn´t do anymore at that time.
I read an article in the newspaper next day about the accident and it said that the men in the car where severe injured, but they are going to live.
So I think I have to thank my guides and the my guradian angels that I forgot my paper that day.
And I will live life to the fullest, follow my heart and my soul and my true path.
Tonight before I go to bed I will send healing and light to them which has been in this accident, doing my best to share my love.
A humble and touched Jessica
http://jessicagottling.blogspot.com/
yesterday night a man I know since two months called me. He’s in the habit to take a respiration before telling his name, so I recognized it very fast. I was under the intuition that he was not happy towards me. Esay: I’ve been telling myself to call him for many days, and did not do it, though I just had to recall his number phone carved in my brain. I know why I didn’t.
So, because I was in very good vibes, I take the initiative to excuse myself because I did not call to wish the new year and so on. I just tried to change the energy he was coming with, to put him at rest. I had suns in my voice, and I guess it helped a lot. Reassured, we talked in good vibes, for then he told me that if I hadn’t answer the phone, he would have let a sermon on the vocal box, using the french polite “you”. :) I told laughing: “So, fortunately I answered!” :)
I’m smiling because, I managed to “avoid helping the devil” by answering and then by spreading my good energy. A good experiment to show to myself I can discipline myself towards this avoiding.
It happened I didn’t manage it, in the peculiar case, it arranges me to quit with a person that sermons me. In that case, it is easier to follow the bad energy of the person in front of me, to send it back to her. But it is not the good way to act. That’s why life will make me face to this situation another time, I think.
Since now I recognize the problem, my feeling is used to warm me to see it first, and then keep my dignity, instead of entering a ring I don’t want to. Moreover now I consider we don’t cross another’s road for nothing; and stay in bad vibes with others cut energies in more effects and then causes than we think.
Good evening.
Fatima I believe in alchemy too! Beautiful.
a quick intake of breath
a recovered memory
a slight of hand
I believe in alchemy
effects of time
effects of change
effects of love
I believe in alchemy
turn water into wine
turn lead into gold
turn pain into triumph
I believe in alchemy
when darkness falls
when desire flares
when chaos overwhelms
I believe in alchemy
faith in man
faith in God
faith in love
I believe in alchemy
forever altered
forever scarred
forever healed
I believe in alchemy
nothing ventured
nothing gained
nothing more beautiful than courage in the face of despair
I believe in alchemy
transform me
render me anew
take my whispered prayers
scatter them like warm ashes on a sacred stream
open my heart
unleash the dam
of everything I contain
empty
cleansed
transform me
render me anew
I believe in alchemy
Ancient saying:
“Only after the last tree has been cut down,
Only after the last river has been poisened,
Only after the last fish has been caught
Only then will mankind find that money cannot be eaten.
The words of our grandmothers and grandfathers have taught us
Respect for the Web of Life and the interdependence of all things in the Universe.
The stories passed down through oral traditions remind usthat we are all connected.”
http://jessicagottling.blogspot.com/
Love and light
Jessica
From my blog today:
http://jessicagottling.blogspot.com/
“Meditation
Today I was meditating.
I haven´t done this for a time now and I know that I had to,
to understand my feelings right know.
Sometimes I´m very good at supress my feelings, and just go on like nothing happened.
Maybe a defense mechanism ?
Because I know I have to make a decision and it´s not going to be easy.
When I meditated a lot of signs was coming up, and I looked them up in my books The language of the Anilmals, and The language of the plants and that made me laugh.
I had a sense that it ment exactlly what I later on read.
Do my guides know that I have this book to look in to get a clue to what I need?
Some signs I can understand immeditatly.
But sometimes when I trying to fool myself theese signs come up which I don´t quit get,
then I look them up and then I understand the whole meditation.
Some signs I don´t understand until a little bit later on when I´m reday for it.
One thing is sure I should meditate more often, even though it´s very though sometimes, I need to listen to my heart without my mind getting in the way trying to control everything.
And for me it´s easier to meditate in a group so maybe I should find a meditation group ?
So I can get even more wise, and so I know what I should do next, without my ego interfering and bringing fear to my decisions.
Everything seemed so clear in my meditation today, but I need some more clues, something is still missing.
Maybe there is when patience and courage comes in *LOL*?”
Love Jessica
I have a facebook group called “Every Moment Matters”, it’s a open group for sharing that something beautiful they may find in their day.
” ME, SHEN HAIJUN, I was a SLAVE AND TORTURED PRISONER ” / testimony in china(antique hunting) – July, 2007
Freed(Released) from the HELL, Shen Haijun, 37 years, tells its history: he had to leave his village to enlarge rows(ranks) in Peking of all the down-and-outs of campaigns working in the sector of the building(ship) (indeed, it is necessary to know that the antique hunting, the third world economic power, makes leave first 5 countries Where the % of poverty is the strongest). But at the end of some months he(resigned, because he won almost nothing or we did not pay him = he got 300 yuans ( 30 euro) for 7 months of salary.
He thus looked for an job, and had heard that the brickyards of Shanxi, the nearby province, missed workers he goes there and he is welcomed (and there the trap closes on him)… BUT, in the dark night, we locked him into a barn with 80 persons from 10 to 60 years old; the guards padlocked doors.
The next days, he tells that they were woken at dawn and worked all day long until their return, at midnight, in the BARN / PRISON. All day long, They piled up bricks and piled them on wagons etc. in 1O hours, they had a bread vapor, and during the day only two meals of bread rolls of corn…
At the end of 4 days, he announced by shouting, that it was going to leave, and the nurses broke him the leg… For 10 days he stayed like that without care and he had to resume the work with his female duck…
He shouts: later, uautres days, they typed me, typed, typed, to punish me for having wanted to run away (by miming a hammer) we had even no more the force to speak
Of worker exploited in Peking, he had come down(fallen) from a walking furthermore, on his sad fate…
But that Shen Haijun, does not know, it is that the boss was the son of the responsible for the communist party: Wang Bingbing, 9-year-old condemned person of prison on July 19th. Shen did not even imagine, as a collusion between the officials and the “maffiosos” of brickyards existed
He thanks ” the police of the credit note for freeing(releasing) and the government to have given him 5.000 yuans (= 500 euros) after his liberation…
The regime used the affair(business) to show its will to fight against the maffiosos, but too much needs it.
Before the Olympic Games, he was asked: order to the journalists to evoke the business ” embarassantes ” of the brickyard, but here is the affair was mediatized via internet, and it was necessary
Internet: 400 parents of the province of Henan diffuse a letter on the net, asserting being without piece of news of their children and teenagers. They dread that their sons are victims of what they call ” the mafia of brickyards “. 10 of the same month, the police is obliged to act (having remained deaf in the distress of the parents): the president Hu Jintao requires an inquiry.
570 slaves were freed among which 41 children in the brickyard of Shanxi; 160 persons were arrested and 95 responsible for the party received disapprovals, or were excluded from the party.
B.P. corresponding for LeMonde
THANKS THE NET …. SHARE TO CHANGE ….IT’S POSSIBLE
“MOI , SHEN HAIJUN , J’AI éTé ESCLAVE ET PRISONNIER TORTURé” / Témoignage en chine – juillet 2007
Libéré de l’ ENFER , Shen Haijun , 37 ans , raconte son histoire : il a dû quitter son village pour grossir les rangs à Pékin de tous les miséreux des campagnes travaillant dans le secteur du bâtiment ( en effet , il faut savoir que la chine , troisième puissance économique mondiale, fait partir des 5 premiers pays où le % de pauvreté est le plus fort ) . Mais au bout de quelques mois il a démissionné , car il ne gagnait presque rien ou on ne le payait pas = il a touché 300 yuans (30 euros) pour 7 mois de salaire.
Il cherchait donc un emploi , et avait entendu dire que les briqueteries du Shanxi, la province voisine , manquaient d’ouvriers …il y va et il est accueilli ( et là le piège se referme sur lui ) …MAIS , à la nuit tombée , on l’a enfermé dans une grange avec 80 personnes âgés de 10 à 60 ans ; les gardiens ont cadenassé les portes .
les jours suivants , il raconte qu’ils étaient réveillés à l’aube et travaillaient toute la journée jusqu’à leur retour , à minuit , dans la GRANGE/PRISON. Toute la journée , Ils entassaient des briques et les empilaient sur des chariots ..etc.. à 1O heures , ils avaient un pain vapeur , et dans la journée uniquement deux repas de petits pains de maïs …
Au bout de 4 jours , il a annoncé en criant , qu’il allait partir , et les gardes lui ont cassé la jambe …Durant 10 jours il est resté comme ça sans soin et il a dû reprendre le travail avec sa cane …
il crie: après , les uautres jours , ils m’ont tapé , tapé , tapé , pour me punir d’avoir voulu m’enfuir ( en mimant un marteau )…on n’avait même plus la force de parler
De travailleur exploité à Pékin , il était descendu d’une marche de plus , sur son triste destin …
mais ce que Shen Haijun , ne sait pas , c’est que le patron était le fils du responsable du parti communiste : Wang Bingbing , condamné à 9 ans de prison le 19 Juillet. Shen n’imaginait même pas , qu’une collusion entre les officiels et les “mafieux” des briqueteries existaient
il remercie “la police de l’avoir libérer et le gouvernement de lui avoir donné 5.000 yuans ( = 500 euros ) après sa libération …
Le régime s’est servi de l’affaire pour montrer sa volonté de lutter contre les mafieux , mais point trop n’en faut .
Avant les jeux olympiques , il était demandé : ordre aux journalistes d’évoquer les affaires “embarassantes ” des briqueterie , mais voilà l’affaire a été médiatisée via internet , et il a fallu faire bonne figure
Internet : 400 parents de la province du Henan diffusent une lettre sur le net , affirmant être sans nouvelle de leurs enfants et adolescents . Ils redoutent que leurs fils soient victimes de ce qu’il appellent ” la mafia des briqueteries” . Le 10 du même mois , la police se voit dans l’obligation d’agir ( après être restée sourde à la détresse des parents) : le président Hu Jintao exige une enquête . 570 esclaves ont été libérés dont 41 enfants dans la briqueterie de Shanxi ; 160 personnes ont été arrêtés et 95 responsables du parti ont reçu des blâmes , ou ont été exclus du parti .
B.P. correspondant pour LeMonde
“We are One”
My first time i posted something here i did not think that i will get any response. But i did and that encouraged me to post another of my short stories for all to enjoy (i hope at least)..
A Friendship
I know of a story of a friendship that many will discard as fiction or just imagination, it may be after all however the moral of this ‘’story’’ remains the same. I heard it from an old man in a small village in central France while I was travelling during a vacation. Name of village or the old man, irrelevant, time when all is being happened irrelevant also because as far as I know it may still go on.
I was seating in the small café in the centre of the village occupying the only table under the shade. He come and politely asked if he can join me, as he could not seat under the sun. I do not know, it must have been something in his face or his voice that although I wanted to be alone I did not mind at all for him to be there with me. His face was so calm and his voice full of kindness.
After seating a little in complete silence we started talking, I really do not know who started the conversation now I think about it. He kept looking at me and I could feel his eyes not on mine but inside my soul looking but not prying. Then at one point he smiled and asked me if I wanted to hear a story. A real story he added but you must have your heart open to understand what it means otherwise it will be lost in the wind.
I nodded and I realised that after a long time my heart was open and ready to listen to this old man. He sipped some water and he started.
It was an early summer evening and as the bright sun was giving its place to the full moon that was just rising, so was the legend of the castle, as every night. The castle with his legendry, by now, resident, which nobody has ever seen but they all, had the same thoughts about him.
I though of the castle which I have seen earlier that day and I remembered it because it struck me that it was not a tourist attraction like all the others. It took me some time to find a path to drive close, a path that was obviously not have been used by a car for a long time.
The castle was medieval build and the walls that still stood up were covered with plants that were embracing the walls from every side. Where there were small openings you could hear the soft cries of birds that had their nests there secure from the outside word as not many ventured were I was standing. Were the rubbles of the collapsed walls were holes appeared in many places obviously giving refuge to foxes or other animals.
There was a strange calmness in the whole area. Even the wind seemed to slow down, it was like it wanted to caress the standing walls only afraid not to disturb them and cause any further damage.
Inside the main building seemed to have withstood the passing of time much better. Although many windows were wide open and plants were every were most of the doors were in place, most probably just standing there and if anyone pushed them even a little they would come tumbling down. I felt the urge to test one but I dismissed the urge, as I did not want to disturb such peacefulness.
I just sat in the inside part looking at the main building. As I was looking around I realised that there was not a cigarette butt around, not a can of any soft drink, nothing signifying the passage or a modern time person. Or the ones that passed respected the place like me and made sure that they did not disturb anything.
The thoughts, he continued, were that whatever it was living inside, it had its roots in hell and during the night it was coming out for search of food whatever food was for it. A felt a chill passing my spine as I realised that I was there but how such a place that brought peace in my mind could be so much surrounded by such a myth.
The legend was so old that even the elders could not remember when the legend started. What they could remember was that nobody had ever dared to go inside the castle at night.
Some have ventured close at the outside walls but that was, as far they would go. I wonder if I would venture close to it again after of what I have heard.
That night a small boy, he did not say it was he but I could see it in his eyes, in order to prove that he was not a coward was determined to go inside and bring out proof that he has been there. The older boys at school challenged him when he tried to play with them. They did not allow him to do so and he wanted to prove himself to them, they said that is too young and a small boy with no courage in him. For this reason he went home early and waited impatiently for the rest to fall at the arms of Morpheus in order to sneak out and go to the castle.
When darkness had its kingdom established and only the nightingales could be heard he sneaked out of the house and stated walking towards the castle using the back roads until he reached the fields. His footsteps light because he did not wanted to disturb anything or alert anybody. As he was moving nearer to the castle his fear was growing from the one side but on the other the fear of the stigma of being the coward of the school was pushing him further.
Finally he reached the castle, his heart was beating fast. He took a deep breath and passed through the outer walls moving slowly to the interior. There he noticed an open door so he moved towards it and went inside the room that he found empty to his disappointment. He was hoping to grab something and run away.
He had to move deeper into the rooms of the castle until he found himself in a room, which looked like a study room with an office in one side. At the room floor there were old toys scattered around and the strange thing about the room was that there was no dust any were, I was like time respected this place for some strange reason.
At this sight the fear subsided and the child curiosity took charge until the other door opened slowly and an ugly but sweet at the same time creature entered the room.
When their eyes met they both froze were they were standing. The boy felt like his legs grew roots and his voice was choked on his throat before it even reached his mouth.
The creature moved slowly towards the boy and offered him 2 marbles that the boy mechanically accepted. After it moved to the other side of the room and sat on the floor. The boy threw slowly the marbles towards the creature and it returned them to him the same way.
Then the boy understood what was the legend about, that he was seeing the legend that kept people away. The legend was only a child, if you could call a legend that old a child and it only wanted to play without being disturbed and obviously was afraid of the village people. That’s why it never comes out during the day.
As the time passed they both become more accustomed to each other and they played together until the time come for the boy to depart. The creature was sad as he moved away and the boy promised to be back. On the way out he took a little something with him as proof that he was there. On the way back he realised that he had not only faced its fears but it had discovered something special, a friend that did not care if he was young, small, brave or not. He had found somebody that accepted him the way he was.
After that night the boy use to go regularly to the castle and played with the creature. He even took some toys that left them there, as all the toys were very old. The time has passed; the boy grew and left the village. During his vacations he was always coming back and he was always bringing his son with him and at nights they were sneaking out in order to go and play with creature so not to be lonely ever again.
My facial expression must have said it all as I was debating inside me if I can believe his story or not because he looked at me and said ‘’your heart wants to believe, listen to her’’. I looked at him and I asked him how he knew the story because it was obviously a personal story that somebody would not confide so easily to a stranger. He stood up slowly, looked at me and said ‘’I am sure that you will not repeat it and should you do you will never reveal any name and finally to answer your question I was the boy. May your path be always to your hearts content’’ he said and walked slowly away.
I watched him mesmerized as he walked off, it was truly an extraordinary experience and yes he was right. The story was never repeated, until now and yes I have never revealed the name of the place.
Just want to mention my interest in Shamballa,the hidden magical country,that is more like a legend.This is believed does exist in Hymalaya,and there people like monks or yoga practisers live without the pressure of time.I am amazed by that story,still dont know much about it.In a short story of Mircea Eliade I have found that name,”The Secret of Doctor Honnigberg”,about a person that found some manuscripts in India,and tried to put in practice the things written.He failed somewhere,and instead of reaching the paradise like country,Shamballa,he become invisible,and lost in time.