According
to certain Buddhist teachings there is a mythical kingdom, an
enlightened society called Shambhala somewhere near Tibet. In 1984,
the Tibetan Buddhist teacher Chögyam Trungpa used the name Shambhala
for a book: Shambhala:
The Sacred Path of the Warrior.
It's a
secular book focusing more on the lifestyle of what Trungpa calls
warriorship more than any spirituality, though it draws on many
principles of meditation and spirituality from religious practices
across the world.
I first
came across this book a few years ago. I was at a Power of Hope camp,
I think my first year as a full-staff volunteer. One of the youth had
come across a copy in the small library of Tierra Learning Center, or
someone let him borrow it, I don't know. I learned a story that says
in a time of darkness in the world the Kingdom of Shambhala will walk
the world. These Shambhala warriors essentially will be harbingers of
peace and goodness stepping out and teaching that there is another
path. It's an allegory because these "warriors" aren't some
mythical people streaming out of a kingdom, but the angels, the
ordinary people who walk among us awakening to their own potential.
At some
point in the last few months I acquired a copy of this little book. I
started carrying it with me, reading a page here, a paragraph there,
even practicing some of the teachings.
The end of
this quarter has made me feel haggard despite my preference for
Wilson Library on campus. But then I have started to take steps back
and examine my life through this lens of warriorship.
I would
find myself asking, where are my thoughts right now? What am I
feeling? And I've been learning to appreciate these thoughts for what
they are: thoughts. Stress is not a bad thing or a good thing. It's a
natural reaction to our environment and thoughts.
My life has
been, is stressful. I spread myself pretty thin sometimes being
involved and active in my commUnities on multiple levels. To some
friends, it's exhausting even thinking about all the stuff I do, let
alone actually doing it (and doing it well). Add on top of this the
fact that I'd been pursuing a relationship with a gentleman of my
acquaintance and grown rather fond of his company, but when we
finally “talked” we agreed that we had to be friends first. Which
is to say he told me it isn't going to happen like that and though I
will admit I cried and I'm still somewhat disappointed and hurt, I
respect him enough to recognize I will not change his mind by forcing
him to like me. And so moving forward as friends first.
Leading two
clubs, working on campus, classes, living on my own, boys, the
laundry list never ends and I'm sure for some people it's longer and
for others it's shorter but no less difficult. I bring this up not to
compare, but to contextualize that for my circumstances I have every
reason to feel stressed and often do, but the key here is that I'm
learning to question whether or not such stress should stop me from
being happy.
It's a
lesson I've been learning for years, and I think we're all learning
it every day.
And since
I've started this practice of warriorship, I've noticed a kind of
vulnerability in myself that has come with this learning. Having the
luxury of time to myself the last few weeks, I've been working on my
meditation and my heART work (a topic I will post about tomorrow) and
I've found myself prone to both random fits of sadness and random
fits of joy, often at the same time. A certain song will come on or I
will read a sentence in my book and as I continue in what I am doing,
I will notice I'm crying. I then take a moment to myself and I
experience it.
I
experience the hell out of those tears. What I've found is that yes,
there's sadness. Right now especially there's a deep loneliness that
has yet to find solace. But there's also joy; joy so brilliantly
bright it hurts. Sometimes there's anger. Sometimes there's laughter
so innocent and pure. It's overwhelming; in ways it's exhausting.
It's beautiful.
And that's
my gift to myself, because in letting myself experience this and in
letting myself be overwhelmed, I'm accepting my strength. If that's
what I can experience internally in just one short moment by myself,
then imagine what kind of glory the world holds! I'm blessed to be
here.
Though my
language may sound preachy, my place is not necessarily to
evangelize. Because as I've said before, I'm
at your service. I'm sharing this experience of warriorship, of
growth and learning just as much for my mental well-being in coping
with this as I am to help foster similar growth within the people
around me, regardless which path you take.
I think
that's what Shambhala has come to mean to me. In all senses of the
word it is in part practice. Practice at life. And to me at least,
life is happiness.
