The Hermit - Part 1

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    From T.LOBSANG RAMPA's book:

    "THE HERMIT"

    As for all of his books - he claims they are absolutelytrue -

    and the people who KNOWS IN THEMSELVES -

    can recognise the wisdom

    About a monk/hermits contact tospacepeople in the highland of Tibet - more

    than hundred years ago - they overseeing

    critical planets like earth and gave a lot of

    interesting information.Rampa came as ayong monk to this old hermit that had been

    selected from "the overseers" to bring thisinformation because of his extreme memory.The overseers foresaw that Rampa would

    bring this information out to the world many

    years later.

    ABOUT THIS BOOK

    I, the author, state that this book isabsolutely true. Some people who are

    bogged down in materialism mayprefer to consider it as fiction. The

    choice is yours -believe or disbelieveaccording to your state of evolution. I

    am NOT prepared to discuss thematter

    or to answer questions about it. This

    book, and ALL my books, are TRUE!Lobsang Rampa.

    CHAPTER ONE

    OUTSIDE the sun was shining. Vividly

    it illumined the trees, threw black

    shadows behind the jutting rocks, and

    sent a myriad glinting points from the

    blue, blue lake. Here, though, in the

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    cool recesses of the old hermit's cave,

    the light was filtered by overhanging

    fronds and came greenly, soothingly, to

    tired eyes strained by exposure to the

    glaring sun.

    The young man bowed respectfully to

    the thin' hermit sitting erect on a time-

    smoothed boulder. 'I have come to you

    for instruction, Venerable One,' he said

    in a low voice.

    'Be seated,' commanded the elder. The

    young monk in the brick-red robe

    bowed again and sat cross legged on

    the hard-packed earth a few feet fromhis senior.

    The old hermit kept silent, seemingly

    gazing into an infinity of pasts through

    eyeless sockets. Long long years

    before, as a young lama, he had been

    set upon by Chinese officials in Lhasa

    and cruelly blinded for not revealing

    State secrets which he did not possess.

    Tortured, maimed and blinded, he had

    wandered embittered and disillusioned

    away from the city. Moving by night he

    walked on, almost insane with pain and

    shock he avoided human company.

    Thinking, always thinking.

    Climbing ever upwards, living on the

    sparse grass or any herbs he could find,

    led to water for drinking by the tinkle

    of mountain streams, he kept a tenuous

    hold on the spark of life. Slowly his

    worst hurts healed, his eyeless sockets

    no longer dripped. But ever he climbed

    upwards, away from mankind which

    tortured insanely and without reason.

    The air became thin. No longer were

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    there tree branches which could be

    peeled and eaten for food. No longer

    could he just reach out and pluck

    grasses. Now he had to crawl on hands

    and knees, reeling, stretching, hoping to

    get enough to stave off the worst pangs

    of starvation.

    The air became colder, the bite of the

    wind keener, but still he plodded on,

    upwards, ever upwards as if driven by

    some inner compulsion. Weeks before,

    at the outset of his journey, he had

    found a stout branch which he had used

    as a stave with which to pick his path.

    Now, his questing stick struck solidly

    against a barrier and his probing could

    find no way through it.

    The young monk(Rampa use this

    expression - it was himself as a young

    monk) looked intently at the old man.

    No sign of movement. Was he all right,

    the young man wondered, and then

    consoled himself with the thought that

    the "Ancient Venerables" lived in the

    world of the past and never hurried for

    anyone. He gazed curiously around the

    bare cave. Bare indeed it was. At one

    side a yellowed pile of straw - his bed.

    Close to it a bowl. Over a projecting

    finger of rock a tattered saffron robe

    drooped mournfully as if conscious of

    its sun-bleached state. And nothing

    more. Nothing.

    The ancient man reflected on his past,

    thought of the pain of being tortured,

    maimed, and blinded. When HE was as

    young as the young man sitting before

    him.

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    In a frenzy of frustration his staff struck

    out at the strange barrier before him.

    Vainly he strove to see through eyeless

    sockets. At last, exhausted by the

    intensity of his emotions, he collapsed

    at the foot of the mysterious barrier.

    The thin air seeped through his solitary

    garment, slowly robbing the starved

    body of heat and life.

    Long moments passed. Then came the

    clatter of shod feet striding across the

    rocky ground. Muttered words in an

    incomprehensible tongue, and the limp

    body was lifted and carried away.

    There came a metallic CLANG! and a

    waiting vulture, feeling cheated of his

    meal, soared into clumsy flight.

    The old man started; all THAT was

    long ago. Now he had to give

    instruction to the young fellow before

    him so like HE had been oh, how many

    years was it? Sixty? Seventy? Or more?

    No matter, that was behind, lost in the

    mists of time. What were the years of a

    man's life when he knew of the years of

    the world?

    Time seemed to stand still. Even the

    faint wind, which had been rustling

    through the leaves, ceased its whisper.

    There was an air of almost eerie

    expectancy as the young monk waited

    for the old hermit to speak. At last,when the strain was becoming almost

    unbearable to the younger man, the

    Venerable One spoke.

    'You have been sent to me,' he said,

    'because you have a great task in Lifeand I have to acquaint you with my

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    own knowledge so that you are in somemeasure made aware of your destiny.'

    He faced in the direction of the young

    monk who squirmed with

    embarrassment. It WAS difficult, he

    thought, dealing with blind people; they

    'look' without seeing but one had the

    feeling that they saw all! A most

    difficult state of affairs.

    The dry, scarce-used voice resumed:

    'When I was young I had many

    experiences, painful experiences. I left

    our great city of Lhasa and wandered

    blind in the wilderness. Starving, ill,

    and unconscious, I was taken - I know

    not where - and instructed in

    preparation for this day. When myknowledge has been passed to you my

    life's work is ended and I can go inpeace to the Heavenly Fields.' So

    saying, a' beatific glow suffused the

    sunken, parchment-like cheeks and he

    unconsciously twirled his Prayer Wheel

    the faster.

    Outside, the slow shadows crawled

    across the ground. The wind grew in

    strength and twisted bone-dry dust into

    little swirls. Somewhere a bird called

    an urgent warning. Almost

    imperceptibly the light of day waned,

    as the shadows grew even longer. In the

    cave, now decidedly dark, the young

    monk tightly clasped his body in thehope of staving off the rumbles of

    increasing hunger. Hunger. Learning

    and hunger, he thought, they always go

    together. Hunger and learning. A

    fleeting smile crossed the hermifs face.

    'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'so the information

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    is correct The Young Man is hungry.

    The Young Man rattles like an empty

    drum. My informant told me it would

    be so. AND provided the cure.' Slowly,

    painfully, and creaking with age, he

    rose to his feet and tottered to a so far

    unseen part of the cave. Re-appearing,

    he handed the young monk a small

    package. 'From your Honourable

    Guide,' he explained, 'he said it would

    make your studies the sweeter.'

    Sweetcakes, sweetcakes from India as a

    relief from the eternal barley or tsampa.

    And a little goats' milk as a change

    from water and more water. 'No, no!'

    exclaimed the old hermit as he was

    invited to partake of the food. 'I

    appreciate the needs of the young - and

    especially of one who will be going out

    into the wide world beyond the

    mountains. Eat, and enjoy it. I, an

    unworthy person, try in my humble

    way to follow the gracious Lord

    Buddha and live on the metaphoricalgrain of mustard seed. But you, eat and

    sleep, for I feel the night is upon us.' So

    saying he turned and moved into the

    well-concealed inner portion of the

    cave.

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    The young man moved to the mouth of

    the cave, now a greyish oval against the

    blackness of the interior. The highmountain peaks were hard black cut-

    outs against the purpling of space

    beyond. Suddenly there was a growing

    silvery effulgence of light as the full

    moon was displayed by the passing of a

    solitary black cloud, displayed as

    though the hand of a god had drawn

    back the curtains of night that labouring

    mankind should see the 'Queen of the

    Sky'. But the young monk did not staylong, his repast was meagre indeed and

    would have been wholly unacceptable

    to a Western youth. Soon he returned to

    the cave and, scraping a depression in

    the soft sand for his hip, fell soundly

    asl