Useful books that will help in opening the third eye. Lobsang ramp third eye

Lobsang Rampa

Third eye

CHAPTER 1 CHILDREN'S YEARS

- Oh, you! At four years old you can’t stay in the saddle! When will you become a real man? And what will your worthy father say?

Old Tzu in his heart pulled the pony with a whip - at the same time the unlucky rider also got it - and spat on the ground.

The gilded domes and roofs of the Potala sparkled in the rays of the bright sun. Nearer lay the vibrant azure lake of the Snake Castle, its light ripples revealing the places where waterfowl frolicked. In the distance, along a rocky mountain path, people were leaving Lhasa; From there one could hear blows and loud cries with which the drivers encouraged the slow yaks. Somewhere very close, from time to time, a low “bmmmmn”, “bmmmmn” shook the air - these were monastic musicians, having climbed away from the listeners, learning to play their bass trumpets.

I didn’t have time to admire these ordinary, everyday things. The most difficult task - to stay on the back of an unruly pony - stood before me. Nakkim had something completely different on his mind - he needed to get rid of his rider, run away to the pasture, roll on the grass and neigh loudly.

Old Tzu was famous as a stern and principled mentor. All his life he had preached perseverance and determination, and now his patience - as a teacher and riding instructor to a four-year-old child - was being seriously tested. For this position, the native of Cam was selected from a large number of applicants due to his tall height, over seven feet, and enormous physical strength. In the heavy felt suit, Tzu's broad shoulders looked even more impressive. There is one region in Eastern Tibet where the men are especially distinguished by their height and strong build. This always gives them an advantage when recruiting police monks into Lamaist monasteries. Thick linings on the shoulders of the clothes make these law enforcement officers even more massive, and their faces, smeared with black paint, are simply terrifying. They never part with long clubs and are ready to use them at any moment; all this can cause nothing but horror in the unfortunate attacker.

Once upon a time, Tzu also served as a police monk, but now - what a humiliation! - had to babysit an aristocratic child. Tzu could not walk for a long time, as he was severely crippled; he rarely even got off his horse. In 1904, the British, under the command of Colonel Younghaus Band, invaded Tibet and devastated the country, obviously believing that best way to win our friendship means to fire cannons at our houses and kill some of the already small Tibetans. Tzu, who took part in the defense, had part of his left thigh torn out in one of the battles.

My father was one of the leaders of the Tibetan government. His family, like my mother’s, belonged to the ten most aristocratic and influential families in Tibet, which played a significant role in the politics and economy of the country. I will also tell you something about our system of government.

Six feet tall, massive and strong, my father was not without reason proud of his strength. In his youth he raised ponies himself. Not many Tibetans could, like him, boast of victory in competitions with the natives of Kham.

Most Tibetans have black hair and dark brown eyes. My father stood out here too - he was a gray-eyed, brown-haired man. Very hot-tempered, he often gave vent to his irritation, which seemed to us to be causeless.

We rarely saw our father. Tibet was going through difficult times. In 1904, before the British invasion, the Dalai Lama retired to Mongolia, and during his absence transferred the government of the country to my father and other members of the cabinet. In 1909, after a short stay in Beijing, the Dalai Lama returned to Lhasa. In 1910, the Chinese, inspired by the example of the British, took Lhasa by storm. The Dalai Lama had to flee again, this time to India. During the Chinese Revolution in 1911, the Chinese were expelled from Lhasa, but before that time they managed to commit many terrible crimes against our people.

In 1912, the Dalai Lama returned to Lhasa. During the most difficult years of his absence, his father and his cabinet colleagues bore full responsibility for the fate of the country. Mother said more than once that in those days the father was busier than ever and, of course, could not pay any attention to raising the children; in fact, we did not know fatherly warmth. It seemed to me that my father was especially strict with me. Tzu, already stingy with praise or affection, received instructions from him to “make a man out of me or break me.”

I was bad at handling ponies. Tzu took this as a personal insult. In Tibet, children from upper class put on a horse before they can walk. In a country where there are no wheeled vehicles and where everyone travels either on foot or on horseback, it is very important to be a good horseman. Children of Tibetan aristocrats learn horse riding every day and hourly. Standing on narrow wooden saddles, at full gallop, they are able to hit moving targets with rifles and bows. Good riders can rush across the field in full battle formation and change horses while galloping, that is, jump from one horse to another. And at four years old I am not able to ride a pony!

My pony Nakkim was shaggy and had a long tail. His narrow muzzle was exceptionally expressive. He knew a surprising number of ways to throw an unconfident rider to the ground. Nakkim’s favorite technique was to take off right off the bat and then suddenly brake, and even tilt his head while doing so. At the very moment when I slid helplessly down his neck, he suddenly threw his head up, with such a special twist that I did a full somersault in the air before plopping down on the ground. And he calmly stopped and looked at me from above with an expression of arrogant superiority.

Tibetans never ride at the trot: the ponies are too small, and the rider would look simply ridiculous. A gentle amble turns out to be quite sufficient; gallop is practiced only in training exercises.

Tibet has always been a theocratic state. The “progress” of the outside world presented no temptation to us. We wanted one thing: to meditate calmly and overcome the limitations of the body. Since ancient times, our sages understood that the riches of Tibet arouse the envy and greed of the West. And that when foreigners come, the world will go. The Chinese Communist invasion proved the sages right.

We lived in Lhasa in the prestigious Lingkhor quarter. Our house stood not far from the ring road, under the shadow of the Vershina. Lhasa itself has three ring roads and another outer one, Lingkhor, which is well known to pilgrims. At the time I was born, our house, like all other houses, was three stories high on the road side. The three-story height was the officially allowed limit because no one was allowed to look down on the Dalai Lama; but since this high prohibition applied only during the annual ceremonial procession, many Tibetans built easily dismantled wooden structures on the flat roofs of their houses and used them practically for eleven months of the year.

Annotation

The need to make a new translation of The Third Eye, one of the most famous books in the world, presented us with a completely unexpected gift. Before you is a new complete translation of the book, obviously impossible in Soviet times for censorship reasons. Very small but frequent deletions in the previous edition made the book incomparably poorer. Anyone who has loved this book since ancient times should definitely read it in the new edition. “The Third Eye” is an amazing story about a spiritual journey, a wonderful autobiographical story about an extraordinary childhood in the Chakpori monastery - a stronghold of Tibetan medicine. A seven-year-old boy from an aristocratic Tibetan family, under the guidance of a great Master, comprehends the secrets of aura vision, astral travel, and healing. This is a book about friendship with the Dalai himself - the Lama, the last Great Incarnation. This is a rich artistic document about Tibet, about its unique nature, about the life and morals of its leading classes - the aristocracy and clergy, about the system of physical and spiritual education of children and youth in Lamaist monasteries, about the history of the country. Finally, it is also an introduction to Tibetan Buddhism. Simply, fascinatingly, but deeply, the author reveals everything that is most significant in this great religion - from traditions, legends and picturesque cult details to the highest moral and spiritual truths.

Lobsang Rampa
Third eye

CHAPTER 1 CHILDREN'S YEARS

- Oh, you! At four years old you can’t stay in the saddle! When will you become a real man? And what will your worthy father say?

Old Tzu in his heart pulled the pony with a whip - at the same time the unlucky rider also got it - and spat on the ground.

The book by the author Lobsang Rampa “The Third Eye” is very popular. However, it is unlikely that she will be able to answer the question of how to develop clairvoyant abilities. There is a lot of literature on this topic, but not all of it enjoys a good reputation.

In the article:

Lobsang Rampa, "The Third Eye" - book about Tibetan monks

Known to many as a clairvoyant with an unusual biography. For a long time he lived life ordinary person, until the spirit of a Tibetan monk chose him as a new host. It is known that during his lifetime Lobsang Rampa was never physically in Tibet, but everything that he wrote and spoke on this topic is true.

Lobsang Rampa "Third Eye"

The book “The Third Eye” is dedicated to the spiritual quest that the monk began in childhood. The book, for the most part, has an autobiographical tone. She tells the reader about the author’s childhood, which passed in the stronghold of Tibetan medicine - Chakpori monastery. From this book you will learn how a seven-year-old boy, under the guidance of a wise Master, mastered what most people consider impossible - aura vision, astral travel and lucid dreams.

A separate chapter of the book “The Third Eye” by Lobsang Rampa is devoted to opening the third eye using Tibetan methods. In Tibetan monasteries this happens through a painful operation:

He placed the jagged end of the instrument against the middle of his forehead and began to turn the handle. A minute passed. I felt like my body was being pierced right through. Time has stopped. The instrument broke through the skin and entered the soft tissue without causing much pain. But when the tip touched the bone, I felt something like a light blow. The monk increased the pressure by rotating the instrument; the teeth were biting into the frontal bone. The pain was not sharp, I only felt pressure accompanied by a dull ache. I did not move, being constantly under the gaze of Lama Mingyar Dondup, - I would rather give up the ghost than move or scream. He believed me, and I believed him. I knew: he was right, no matter what he did, no matter what he said. He closely followed the operation, and only slightly pursed lips betrayed his excitement. Suddenly a crash was heard - the tip of the instrument passed the bone.

It is unlikely that the information described in Lobsang Rampa’s book “The Third Eye” will be useful for those who want to open the eyebrow chakra and become clairvoyant, but the reader will be interested in learning more about the life of monks in Tibetan monasteries, the terrible operation to open the third eye and the effect that followed it.

Boris Monosov, “Clairvoyance as reality” - practice of opening the third eye"

Author of a book about the third eye Monosov Boris I am confident that every person can develop extraordinary abilities. However, in order to open them, you will have to devote a lot of time to practice. There are many of the latter, however, if you do not want to waste time, it is better to prefer literature with a good reputation. Boris Monosov calls himself a professional magician, and his books are quite popular.

Book by Boris Monosov “Clairvoyance as Reality” - practices for opening the third eye" contains a series of techniques and exercises aimed at opening the third eye. Practical course Monosova is suitable for every person, but you should not expect that the third eye chakra will open in a few days. Compare these classes with learning another language - it is unlikely that you will be able to communicate fluently with foreigners after just a few lessons.

Boris Monosov's book consists of eleven sections. They are dedicated to preparing for the discovery of psychic abilities, as well as the opportunities that new vision gives. An open third eye can bring significant benefits to any person, and in order to achieve this goal, it is not at all necessary to be born into a family of magicians.

Boris Sakharov, “Opening the Third Eye” - yoga and scientific approach

The author of the book about opening the third eye, Boris Sakharov, is one of the most prominent representatives of the Russian intelligentsia. Most of all, he was worried about the heritage and culture of the East, and Boris Sakharov devoted his life to studying and popularizing this topic. He wrote many books about yoga, as well as the philosophy and culture of the East.

Despite the fact that in the books of Boris Sakharov there is a place for mysticism and, in general, things that are not commonly believed in modern society, the reader will definitely notice the scientist’s pragmatic approach to the presentation and analysis of information. This author has good reputation even among skeptics, he is an authoritative practitioner Hatha Yoga and Raja Yoga.

Reviews claim that Boris Sakharov's writing style makes his books easy to read. Complex terms and principles of Eastern philosophy are presented clearly for a person with a Western mentality. He associates the methods of opening the third eye and the very fact of its presence with yoga, so the book “Opening the Third Eye” will be useful and interesting not only to those who are interested in esotericism, but also to people interested in yoga.

The methods outlined in Boris Sakharov’s book “Opening the Third Eye” are based on the author’s personal developments, as well as analysis of information from yogic treatises. Some yogis are confident that the disclosure of the secrets of yoga to a wide range of uninitiated people in Boris Sakharov’s book “Opening the Third Eye” caused the author’s death in a car accident.

Other books about the third eye

Encyclopedia of secret techniques You are clairvoyant! How to open your third eye The eye of the Self, from which nothing is hidden

There is a lot of little-known literature about the third eye that deserves the attention of readers. For example, “Encyclopedia of secret techniques” by Alexander Soldatov can help quickly - in just three days. This is the period considered normal by the author who positions his book as unique. practical guide to open the third eye and gain clairvoyance.

The book is also interesting Olga Muratova “You are clairvoyant! How to open the third eye". The techniques described by the author are aimed at mastering entry level clairvoyance. Olga Muratova also describes what the further development of a person who has embarked on the path of acquiring the gift of clairvoyance will be like. Open provides truly amazing opportunities, and many have already been convinced of this.

The logical approach to a rather mystical phenomenon arouses curiosity David Hawkins, author of The Eye of Self, From Which Nothing Is Hidden. The book consists of four sections. The first describes personal experience author, in the second - the direction of spiritual searches and the path to the goal are set. The third section will talk about human consciousness and methods of spiritual enlightenment, and the fourth is devoted to answers to questions from readers of previous books by this author.

CHAPTER 1 CHILDREN'S YEARS

- Oh, you! At four years old you can’t stay in the saddle! When will you become a real man? And what will your worthy father say?

Old Tzu in his heart pulled the pony with a whip - at the same time the unlucky rider also got it - and spat on the ground.

Once upon a time, Tzu also served as a police monk, but now - what a humiliation! - had to babysit an aristocratic child. Tzu could not walk for a long time, as he was severely crippled; he rarely even got off his horse. In 1904, the British, under the command of Colonel Younghaus Band, invaded Tibet and devastated the country, obviously believing that the best way to win our friendship was to shell our houses with cannons and kill some of the already small Tibetans. Tzu, who took part in the defense, had part of his left thigh torn out in one of the battles.

I was bad at handling ponies. Tzu took this as a personal insult. In Tibet, upper-class children are put on horses before they can walk. In a country where there are no wheeled vehicles and where everyone travels either on foot or on horseback, it is very important to be a good horseman. Children of Tibetan aristocrats learn horse riding every day and hourly. Standing on narrow wooden saddles at full gallop, they are able to hit moving targets with rifles and bows. Good riders can rush across the field in full battle order and change horses while galloping, that is, jump from one horse to another. And at four years old I am not able to ride a pony!

Tibetans never ride at the trot: the ponies are too small, and the rider would look simply ridiculous. A gentle amble turns out to be quite sufficient; gallop is practiced only in training exercises.

Our old stone house was surrounded by a large square courtyard. The ground floor housed livestock, and we lived in the upper rooms. The house had a stone staircase; Most Tibetan houses have such stairs, although instead of stairs, peasants use pillars dug into the ground with notches, climbing which can easily break their legs. The pillars, grasped by oily hands, become so slippery from frequent use that the inhabitants often inadvertently fall off them and come to their senses on the floor below.

In 1910, during the Chinese invasion, our house was partially destroyed; The interior walls were especially damaged. My father rebuilt the house and made it five stories high. Since the completed floors did not face the ring road and we did not have the opportunity to look down on the Dalai Lama during the processions, no one contradicted this.

The door leading to the courtyard was massive and dark with age. The Chinese invaders did not defeat its powerful frame and only managed to make a hole in the wall nearby. Just above this door was the room of the housekeeper, who watched everyone who entered and left the house. He managed the household, distributed responsibilities around the house, fired and appointed servants. When the monastery trumpets announced the end of the day, the beggars of Lhasa gathered under the window of the steward to stock up on something for dinner. All the wealthy residents of the city knew the poor people in their neighborhoods and helped them. Prisoners chained in chains often walked along the streets: there were very few prisons in Tibet, so the convicts simply walked the streets and collected alms.

In Tibet, convicts are treated condescendingly, without contempt; no one considers them rejected by society. We understand that anyone could be in their place, and we feel sorry for them.

To the right of the steward lived, each in his own room, two monks. These were our spiritual fathers, who prayed to heaven day and night for favor towards our home. Middle-income families supported only one confessor; our social status obliged us to have two. They turned to them for advice and, before doing anything, asked them to pray to the gods for good luck. Once every three years the confessors changed - the old ones went to their monastery, and new ones took their place.

In each wing of the house there was a chapel, where oil lamps burned in front of an altar with wooden sculptures. Seven bowls of holy water were constantly polished to a shine, and they were refilled several times a day. This was done in case the gods came and wanted to get drunk. The confessors were well fed - the same thing that the whole family ate - so that their prayer would be passionate and so that the gods would hear how good our food was.

To the left of the housekeeper lived a lawyer who made sure that everything in the house was done according to custom and according to the law. Tibetans have great respect for their traditions and laws, and our father should have served as an outstanding example of law-abidingness.

I, along with my brother Paljor and sister Yasodhara, lived in the new part of the house, farthest from the road. To our left was our chapel, and to our right was the classroom, in which the servants' children studied with us. The lessons were long and varied.

Paljor's life was short-lived. He was too weak to adapt to the difficulties that were in store for us. He was not yet seven years old when he left this world and went to the land of a Thousand Temples. Yaso was six then, and I was four years old. Even now I seem to see how the servants of Death came for my brother, emaciated and dried up like the bark of a tree, took his corpse and took it with them to cut it into pieces and give it to the vultures, as custom required.

I have now become the heir of the family, and my studies have become more difficult. I was four years old; I had an insurmountable indifference to horses. My father, a man of strict rules, wanted me to be brought up under conditions of iron discipline - as an edification to everyone.

In my country there is a rule: the more noble the family, the harsher the upbringing should be. In some aristocratic families, some relaxation was allowed in matters of raising children - but not in ours! The father was of the opinion that if the son of a poor man cannot count on an easy life in the future, then at least early years he has the right to leniency and a gentle attitude towards him; and vice versa, a noble offspring will in the future expect all the benefits corresponding to his family, therefore an extremely harsh childhood and an upbringing bordering on cruelty, which is based on difficulties and deprivations, will help an adult noble person to better understand the poor and be sympathetic to their concerns and needs. This formulation of the issue officially came from the government. Such an education system turned out to be fatal for children with poor health, but for those who survived, there were no barriers later.

Tzu occupied a room on the ground floor near the main entrance. Having once been a police monk and having seen different people in his time, Tzu was greatly burdened by the position of a retired soldier in the role of an uncle. Next to his room were stables with his father's twenty riding horses, Tibetan ponies and draft cattle.

The grooms hated Tzu for his official zeal and habit of sticking his nose into things that weren’t his own business. When my father went anywhere on horseback, he was invariably accompanied by an armed escort of six horsemen. The riders had their own uniform, and Tzu constantly nagged them about its impeccability.

For some reason unknown to me, these six people were in the habit of lining up their horses against the wall, with their backs turned to it, and galloping towards their father as soon as he rode out of the gate. I noticed that if you hang out of a barn window, you can reach out to the horseman with your hand. One day, having nothing better to do, I passed a rope through the leather belt of one of them at the moment when he was checking his equipment. I managed to tie the ends of the rope in a knot and throw it over the barn hook. All this happened unnoticed in the general bustle and conversation. When the father appeared, five horsemen galloped towards him; On the sixth, the rope pulled him off his horse. Hitting the ground, he screamed at the top of his lungs that he had fallen into the clutches of evil spirits. The belt fell off, and in the general confusion I quietly removed the rope and disappeared unnoticed. After that, I made fun of the victim of my joke with great pleasure:

- Hey, Netuk, so it turns out that you also have trouble staying in the saddle?

Life became difficult - you had to stay awake for 18 hours out of 24. Tibetans believe that it is unwise to sleep during the day: daytime demons can find the sleeping person and move into him. For this reason, even children are prohibited from sleeping, as parents are afraid that their children will become “possessed.” Monks are also assigned to the sick, whose duties include preventing their wards from sleeping at inappropriate times. There is no leniency for anyone - even the dying must remain in a state of full consciousness for as long as possible, so as not to go astray when moving to another world, and not to get lost during the transition.

At school we studied Chinese and two varieties of Tibetan: the common language and the high style language. The first was to be used in conversations with family and people of lower ranks, the second served to communicate with people of equal origin or higher rank. The rules required exquisite treatment even with the horse of a more noble person than yourself! For example, any of the servants who lived in the house, upon meeting our aristocratic cat, majestically walking through the entire yard on her mysterious business, asked her:

- Would the venerable Kiss-kiss deign to come with me and taste the unworthy milk?

The Venerable Kiss-kiss, however, regardless of the shades of style, agreed only when she wanted it.

We had a very large class. At one time, this room served as a dining room for visiting monks, but then, when the entire building was reconstructed, it was converted into school classes. All the children living in our house went to school; there were up to six dozen of them. We sat on the floor, cross-legged, in front of a table or a long bench about half a meter high, and always with our backs to the teacher, so as not to know when and who he was looking at. I had to work a lot and without a break.

In Tibet, paper is made by hand and is expensive - too expensive to allow children to spoil it. Therefore, we used slate boards measuring 30 by 35 centimeters. They wrote with pieces of hard chalk, which was mined in the Tssu La mountains, another 4 thousand meters above Lhasa (the capital itself is located at an altitude of 4 thousand meters above sea level).

I liked the reddish chalk, and Yaso's sister loved the purple one. In general, we came across chalk of all kinds of colors - red, yellow, blue, green. I think that the shades were given to it by the admixtures of some metals. But whatever the reason, the colorful crayons made us very happy.

The thing that gave me the most trouble was arithmetic. Imagine: 783 monks each drink two cups of tsampa daily, each cup containing 350 grams of the drink; it is necessary to determine what kind of barrel it will be, which contains a week's supply of tsampa. Yaso received the answer as if playfully. My abilities, alas, were not so noticeable. But they showed up in engraving lessons - here I achieved good success. The entire Tibetan written heritage is preserved on wooden tablets filled with engraving. Wood engraving is considered a very honorable occupation in Tibet. But the children, again, could not use the tree because of its high cost. It was imported from India. Tibetan woods were too hard and not suitable for engraving. We worked on a soft soapstone, which responded well to a sharp knife, and sometimes we simply engraved on dried old cheese!

The lessons on studying our laws were unforgettable for me. Every lesson began with reading the laws, and it ended with reading the laws. Here are some of them:

...

Return kindness for kindness.

Don't attack civilians.

Read the Holy Scripture and understand it.

Help your neighbors.

The law is strict towards the rich and instills in them understanding and equality.

The law is gentle to the poor and comforts them.

Pay your debts on time.

And so that we would never forget these laws, they were engraved in the form of slogans and hung on all four walls of the classroom.

However, our life passed not only under the sign of study and rigor. We indulged in children's games and amusements with the same zeal as in our studies. Games helped people better adapt to the harsh climate of Tibet and sudden temperature changes. Suffice it to say that in the summer in the south the temperature reaches 30° C during the day, and frosts can strike at night. In winter in Tibet it is generally terribly cold.

Our favorite pastime was archery - this game strengthens muscles well. Bows were made from yew brought from India. However, we also made crossbows from Tibetan wood. We have never shot at live targets - our Buddhist faith prohibits this. Using a long rope, invisible to our eyes, servants raised and lowered the targets without warning. Most of my comrades could accurately hit the target at full gallop. I couldn’t even stay in the saddle for any long time! But pole vaulting was my strong point. We quickly ran up with a five-meter pole in our hands and, resting it on the ground, jumped. I have already said that my peers spent a long time in the saddle, their legs were not so trained and weaker than mine. That's why I was always the first in this type of physical exercise.

Serious practical significance We have pole vaulting – for example, when crossing streams. It was funny for me to look at my comrades when they, trying to jump over the stream after me, splashed into the water one after another.

Walking on stilts was another fun activity. Having climbed them, we played giants and had fights. Whoever fell off the stilts first was considered defeated. We made the stilts at home ourselves; buying them from the shop around the corner was out of the question. Our housekeeper was a zealous servant, and it took great persuasion to get wood from him for stilts and footrests. The wood must be smooth, without knots, and the triangle-shaped footrests are made from leftover material. Since we were talking about the “damage” of expensive and rare material, we had to wait for a favorable moment to approach the economist with our plans.

Girls and young women played shuttlecock - a piece of wood with holes drilled on one side and feathers inserted into them. The shuttlecock could only be kicked. The girls, holding their skirts at a certain height for convenience, struck the shuttlecock, trying to prevent it from falling to the ground. It was forbidden to touch the shuttlecock with your hand - this meant immediate disqualification. Experienced participants could keep the shuttlecock in the air for up to ten minutes without making a single mistake.

But the greatest interest in Tibet, at least in the administrative district of Yu, where Lhasa is located, was the flying of kites. This game can be considered a national sport. True, kites were flown only at certain times of the year. Based on long-term observations, it was found that mass kite flying in the mountains causes heavy rains; this was attributed to the wrath of the rain gods, so the launch was allowed only in the fall, during the dry season. At some times of the year, people even tried not to shout in the mountains, because shouting promotes rapid condensation of supersaturated rain clouds from India, resulting in tropical shower may break out at the wrong time and in the wrong place.

So, on the first day of autumn, a lonely snake hung over the roof of the Potala Temple. A few minutes later the entire sky over Lhasa was full of other snakes of all shapes, sizes and colors. They made turns, jumped and swayed in the strong wind.

I loved this game and was always in a hurry to make sure my kite was one of the first to fly into the sky. We made these ourselves aircraft. Usually the kite consisted of a light bamboo frame covered with beautiful silk. We were willingly given this high-quality material, since a good kite was a matter of honor for every decent home. We often attached a head, wings and a tail to the main box, and the snake took the form of a terrible dragon.

We played out entire battles, during which each of us tried to knock down the enemy's snake to the ground. To do this, we covered the kite's rope with glass shards or coated it with glue mixed with glass dust, hoping that the opponent's ropes would be cut and then his apparatus would go to the winner.

Sometimes we would sneak out into the street late in the evening and fly kites, having previously secured small oil lanterns to their heads and bodies. The eyes of our dragons lit up with a red light, and their multi-colored bodies also stood out against the background of the black sky. This game was especially exciting during the period when large caravans of yaks from Lho Dzong province were expected to arrive in Lhasa. Out of childish naivety, we believed that the caravan drivers, these “dark” people from a distant province, had never even heard of such a “novelty” as our flying kites at home. And, of course, we really wanted to scare them half to death.

One of our tricks was to put three shells of different sizes into the kite, and they were placed in such a way that the kite began to emit supernatural moans when a stream of air passed through them. In our minds, these groans were no different from the sounds that dragons spew fire, and we were sure that they would chill the traders to the bone. Children's imagination suggested what horrors the unfortunate ones experienced in their wagons at the moment when our dragons howled over their heads. We ourselves were chilled by this thought.

I couldn't imagine that these games would help me in the future when I actually had to fly kites. But then it was just a game - but what an exciting one!

There were also dangerous games. For example, we built huge kites, up to two or three square meters in size, with wings on the sides. We dragged them to a cliff, where there were particularly powerful updrafts of air. Having tied one end of the rope around our waists, we let the horse gallop. The snake soared sharply upward. Rising higher and higher, he encountered a strong air current, the rider was abruptly torn from the saddle, and for some time he rushed three to four meters above the ground, hanging on a rope. Some dodgers were nearly torn in two because they forgot to release their feet from the stirrups in time. It was easier for me: I was used to falling from a horse and jumped off on time, continuing my flight on the kite with great pleasure. Forgetting all caution and embarking on new adventures, I discovered that if at the moment of lifting the kite you sharply pull the rope, the kite rises even higher and the flight can thus be extended for a few more seconds.

One day I pulled the rope with such diligence and enthusiasm - and the wind also helped me - that I was carried onto the roof of a peasant house, where the owner had stored fuel for the winter. (Our peasants live in houses with flat roofs. They spread yak dung on them, which is then burned dry in the hearths.)

The house on whose roof I fell was made of briquettes of dried silt, and not of stone, like most houses in Tibet. There was no chimney; instead there was a hole in the roof through which smoke came out. I was dragged along the roof, half-dried manure scattered in all directions, part of it fell into the smoke hole, and then I fell there too, right on the heads of the unfortunate residents.

My appearance, of course, did not make the owners too happy. They greeted the guest with angry shouts, and to begin with, the enraged owner gave me a good thrashing, and then took me to my father. My father, in turn, prescribed me another dose of correctional medicine. That night I slept on my stomach.

The next day my life became even more complicated: I had to collect required quantity manure and spread it in proper order on the roof of that same peasant’s house. The work, one might say, is hellish for a child who is not yet six years old. But everyone except me had a good time: my peers laughed at me to their hearts’ content, the peasant received twice as much fuel as he had, and my father once again showed everyone how strict but fair he is. The second night I was forced to sleep on my stomach - horseback riding did not serve me as a consolation.

It may seem that I was treated too harshly, but I must argue: there is no place for the weak in Tibet. Lhasa is located at an altitude of four thousand meters above sea level, its climate is very harsh, the temperature fluctuates within the widest range; other settlements are located even higher, and people in poor health represent a heavy burden for others. This is the reason for the harsh upbringing of children, and there are no other reasons, just as there is no place for cruelty for the sake of cruelty.

In the highlands, Tibetans bathe newborns in icy streams to find out if the child is strong enough and has the right to live. More than once I have seen small processions heading to ice springs at an altitude of about 6 thousand meters above sea level. Having arrived at the place, the procession stops. The grandmother takes the child in her arms, and the whole family gathers around her - father, mother, close relatives. The child is undressed, and the grandmother plunges the small body into the stream up to the neck, so that only the head remains on the surface. The cold permeates the child through and through, he instantly turns red, then turns blue. Soon the crying stops - the baby is no longer able to protest. It seems that he is already dead, but the grandmother has considerable experience in this regard: she pulls him out of the stream, wipes him dry and dresses him. Will the child survive? This is the will of God! If he dies, it means that fewer misfortunes will befall him. In a country with such a cold climate, such a test is carried out with the best intentions - it is impossible to leave the weak and sick where there is almost no medical care. The death of several babies is considered a lesser evil here than the life of several incurably disabled people.

After my brother’s death, my studies had to be accelerated, because at the age of seven I was supposed to be preparing for a career. Which? And this is what astrologers will say. In Tibet, any decision - from buying a yak to choosing a profession - is made according to the prediction of an astrologer. Such a moment was approaching in my life: just before my seventh birthday, my mother was going to throw a grand reception and invite all high society to it to listen to the predictions of astrologers.

My mother was a woman of outstanding plumpness, round-faced and black-haired. Tibetan women wear special wooden forms on their heads, through which they pass and arrange their hair in the most bizarre way. These forms are usually varnished and inlaid with semi-precious stones - jade, coral; In general, these products have long become the subject of very fine art. If a woman's hairstyle also shines, oiled, then it makes a very bright impression.

Our women love dresses in the most cheerful colors, with a predominance of red, green and yellow flowers. A plain apron with a horizontal contrasting but harmonious color ribbon is an almost constant attribute of their clothing. An earring is worn in the left ear, the size of which depends on the position in society. The mother belonged to a family from government circles and wore an earring more than 15 centimeters long.

We have always been supporters of complete equality of men and women. But in managing household affairs, my mother went further - she did not recognize any equality. In her element, she enjoyed unquestioned authority, the power of a dictator - in short, she did what she wanted.

In the turmoil and emotional excitement about the reception device, she truly felt like a fish out of water. It was necessary to organize everything, manage everything, provide for all the little details, and come up with something that would “amaze” the neighbors. And she succeeded brilliantly, since frequent trips with her father to India, Beijing and Shanghai gave rise to a lot of exotic ideas in her head, which could have been enough for more than one lifetime!

After the reception date was set, the monks began to write out invitations with special care and zeal on thick, handmade sheets of paper intended for important messages. The size of each such message was 30 by 60 centimeters, and it was sealed with the seal of the father of the family. Next to her father’s seal, her mother also placed her own – a sign of her belonging to a noble family. They also had a common seal, so that a total of three seals were exhibited - the invitation was a grandiose document. I trembled with fear at the mere thought that I was the cause of such great events. I could not know at that time that in this whole undertaking my role was more than modest: the Social Event came to the fore. If they had told me then that the reception would raise the prestige of my parents, I still would not have understood anything. And I would still be scared.

Special messengers were appointed to send out invitations. Each messenger mounted a thoroughbred stallion and picked up a staff, at the end of which was attached a package with the image of the family coat of arms. The wands were decorated with ribbons with prayers written on them, and the ribbons fluttered in the air as they rode.

When the moment came for sending the messengers, the end of the world began in our yard. The servants were hoarse from shouting, the horses neighed, the huge black dogs barked. Having drunk the last sip of Tibetan beer, the riders noisily lowered their mugs. Then the main gates opened with a creak, and the entire cavalcade rushed forward with wild screams.

Book-1: Third Eye
Lobsang Rampa

Lobsang Rampa

Third eye

CHAPTER 1 CHILDREN'S YEARS

- Oh, you! At four years old you can’t stay in the saddle! When will you become a real man? And what will your worthy father say?

Old Tzu in his heart pulled the pony with a whip - at the same time the unlucky rider also got it - and spat on the ground.

Once upon a time, Tzu also served as a police monk, but now - what a humiliation! - had to babysit an aristocratic child. Tzu could not walk for a long time, as he was severely crippled; he rarely even got off his horse. In 1904, the British, under the command of Colonel Younghaus Band, invaded Tibet and devastated the country, obviously believing that the best way to win our friendship was to shell our houses with cannons and kill some of the already small Tibetans. Tzu, who took part in the defense, had part of his left thigh torn out in one of the battles.

Tibetans never ride at the trot: the ponies are too small, and the rider would look simply ridiculous. A gentle amble turns out to be quite sufficient; gallop is practiced only in training exercises.

Our old stone house had a large square enclosing the courtyard. The ground floor housed livestock, and we lived in the upper rooms. The house had a stone staircase; Most Tibetan houses have such stairs, although instead of stairs, peasants use pillars dug into the ground with notches, climbing which can easily break their legs. The pillars, grasped by oily hands, become so slippery from frequent use that the inhabitants often inadvertently fall off them and come to their senses on the floor below.

In Tibet, convicts are treated condescendingly, without contempt; no one considers them rejected by society. We understand that anyone could be in their place, and we feel sorry for them.

In my country there is a rule: the more noble the family, the harsher the upbringing should be. In some aristocratic families, some relaxation was allowed in matters of raising children - but not in ours! The father was of the opinion that if the son of a poor man cannot count on an easy life in the future, then at least in his youth he has the right to leniency and a gentle attitude towards him; and vice versa, a noble offspring will in the future expect all the benefits corresponding to his family, therefore an extremely harsh childhood and an upbringing bordering on cruelty, which is based on difficulties and deprivations, will help an adult noble person to better understand the poor and be sympathetic to their concerns and needs. This formulation of the issue officially came from the government. Such an education system turned out to be fatal for children with poor health, but for those who survived, there were no barriers later.

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