When I was young I used to dream of hidden mystical cities, like Shangri-La or Brigadoon...or Shambhala.
I sensed that these places were alive and existing etherically, all around me, but I could not access them physically. However, they resided within my heart and my incredibly fertile imagination, where all worlds were spun, and where the impossible became possible.
One day, when I lived in Nova Scotia, I stopped by the sea to look at the boats, red, blue, yellow, magenta, that had been pulled up by the fishermen onto the sand. There were children playing close by as well. I stood there and marveled at this beauty, it seemed so magical.
And then the fog rolled it quite dramatically, It soon obscured the road and muffled the sound of cars. It removed the houses and any places of commerce that were close by. This fog enveloped me and the children and the brightly colored boats in a cloak of magic. The sea seemed to take on an iridescent sheen, as though every wave was a crystal, that gleamed and shone brightly. An aroma of rare perfume rose around me as well.
And in that moment, as I was held in this space, I knew that I had found Shambhala. Or that Shambhala had found me,
I sensed that these places were alive and existing etherically, all around me, but I could not access them physically. However, they resided within my heart and my incredibly fertile imagination, where all worlds were spun, and where the impossible became possible.
One day, when I lived in Nova Scotia, I stopped by the sea to look at the boats, red, blue, yellow, magenta, that had been pulled up by the fishermen onto the sand. There were children playing close by as well. I stood there and marveled at this beauty, it seemed so magical.
And then the fog rolled it quite dramatically, It soon obscured the road and muffled the sound of cars. It removed the houses and any places of commerce that were close by. This fog enveloped me and the children and the brightly colored boats in a cloak of magic. The sea seemed to take on an iridescent sheen, as though every wave was a crystal, that gleamed and shone brightly. An aroma of rare perfume rose around me as well.
And in that moment, as I was held in this space, I knew that I had found Shambhala. Or that Shambhala had found me,