Land of Shamballa

Melchior Lechter

Let us now picture the vision of Christ, as it will appear to the first forerunners during the next 2,500 years, and as it appeared to Paul on the way to Damascus. Man will ascend to a cognition of the spiritual world and will see the physical world permeated by a new ‘country,’ or new realm. Man's physical environment will present a totally different aspect in the course of the next 2,500 years, through the addition of an etheric realm, which indeed is already here now, but which he will learn to perceive. 

This etheric sphere is even now spread out before the eyes of those who have carried their esoteric training as far as ‘Illumination’ — as was the case with the Initiates even in Kali-Yuga. That which men will see more and more in the future is visible in its greatest heights to the Initiates. The Initiate draws from thence at repeated intervals, the forces he requires. When he has to carry out some special work, he draws his forces from those realms within the earth's circuit which are visible to him, but which can only be seen by those who have the vision. It will help us to understand this, when we know that a part of that land from which the Initiate drew his forces during Kali-Yuga, will be thrown open to a great part of humanity during the next 2,500 years. Formerly, in the days of primeval clairvoyance, man, though then without the strong Ego-consciousness, could see into the Spiritual world — and in a way he saw more or less what he will see now, — but he will now enter it with his newly acquired self-consciousness.

At that time he saw it in dream-like ecstatic conditions, or by looking into his own soul. That world which during Kali-Yuga became physical was then open to man's gaze. Hence the traditions, which have preserved recollections of the old clairvoyance, tell us of an unknown Fairyland which has now disappeared from sight. There are wonderful documents in Eastern literature full of a peculiar tragical enchantment, and telling us that at one time it was possible for human beings to travel to a land where the Spiritual flowed into the physical. It is that Land from whence at certain times the Initiates — and at all times the Bodhisattvas — drew fresh forces. The Eastern writings speak with deep sorrow of that land, asking: ‘Where is it? We are told the names of places, paths are named; but the Land itself is concealed, even from those most initiated among the Lamas of Tibet!’ Only to the highest Initiates is it accessible. But it is always stated that some day this Land will return to earth. 

That is true; it will return to earth! And the guide thereto will be He Whom men will see, when, through the vision of the Event of Damascus, they reach the Land of Shamballa. ‘Shamballa’ — for so this Land is called — has withdrawn from the sight of man. It can only be entered to-day by those who, as Initiates, go there from time to time to be strengthened. The old forces can no longer lead man thither. That is why Eastern literature speaks with such tragic despair of the vanished Land of Shamballa. But the Christ-Event, which will be vouchsafed to man in this century through his newly-awakened faculties, will bring back the Fairyland of Shamballa, which through the whole of Kali-Yuga could only be known to the Initiates.

Thus humanity is now called upon to make a decision, whether it shall allow itself, through what comes with the Halley Comet, to be lead down into a darkness even lower than that of Kali-Yuga, or whether through an understanding developed by Anthroposophy it shall not neglect to cultivate the new faculties by which it may find the way to the Land which according to Eastern Literature has disappeared, but which Christ will once more reveal to mankind; — the Land of Shamballa. That is the great question of the dividing of the ways: either to go down or to go up. Either to go down into something which, as a Cosmic-Kamaloka lies still deeper down than Kali-Yuga, or to work for that which will enable man to enter that realm, which is really alluded to under the name of Shamballa.

-Rudolf Steiner  

The Middle Kingdom! Various times and peoples have given it different names. To some it was Paradise, to others Tir-nan-Og; Arthurian Avalon; Fairyland; the World of Immortal Youth; the Land of Heart’s Desire. Where exactly is that country? Well, if God’s is the world of creative power and ours the world of created objects, the fairy world is the land of life that lies between them, serv­ing as the bridge for their interaction.

-Marjorie Spock

End & a Beginning

He thought of Brogan and the hardships this man had endured. Yes, as Darius and King Richard, he had won entries into the journals of both fiction and history - but these lives had scoured him terribly. And when his last time on Earth had been brutally cut short - the shock of the violence had still remained upon him, in part. This once powerful King had struggled throughout.

Perhaps now he could be healed of this fully? Puck considered Brogan to be a man of great faith, who having had disappointments along the way, still held fast.

Certainly these two deserved this time of peace that had finally come to them.

Puck tramped down the hill returning to the crowd and took Charley back into his arms. He could see Eric standing beside the coffin, aside his wife, who had passed away only the year before. Barnabus and his choir had arrived, as did his friends from the Grove. Lady Marthorn was conversing with Tooke.

The choir began with "Come, Thou Almighty King" and Nervina and Goober were singing along.

An elderly man in a tweed cap sidled up to Puck and handed little Charley one of the violets from the wreath. He said, looking at the little girl, and then over to Puck:

"It’s a small world, isn't it?"

"Sure is" said Puck, "sure is".

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Marley finds Brogan

Taking the path of remembrance up to the Rose Garden, Puck meandered on in melancholy. The breeze blew its weedy breath ever stronger, and he drew his collar up around his neck.

Puck admonished himself endlessly for all that had gone wrong in Marley's abbreviated life.

It occurred to him also, that now Forsythe was undone, the worry of his unpredictable interference was gone, and he and Marley could have lived happily together. Things might have been otherwise. A part of him craved to live a human existence - if only for a short period of life.

His wandering drew him towards a path that was cluttered with older headstones leaning one up against another. Empty vases and rusty picture frames were scattered around their bases - the stones had pitted with the weather. It was most likely their loved ones had joined them in the plot.

Higher on the hill he was now climbing, he saw a woman and a man sitting on a concrete seat, looking down at the gatherings below. They seemed comfortable with each other, and from their close proximity it was obvious that they were a couple. Puck decided to turn and go back down, for he did not want to intrude on the romantics.

Several steps later he heard the voices of the two as they talked. He could not hear them well, for the wind carried their words to the south, however he realized all at once that the male's voice was well known to him. It was Brogan.

Of course! he thought, Brogan would want to be here for Marley! He must go and invite him down - there would be much to talk of - news of where he had been, and of what befell Mark Forsythe in recent days.

He walked urgently up the track, cheered to see his friend again. The woman lifted her head from his chest. Brogan's arms had been clamped around her, as she had kissed him with a delicate passion. Neither perceived Puck to be there beside them - he could not have been more invisible if he tried.

Upon getting closer he discovered that Brogan's companion was Marley. His Marley with his Brogan.

Plain to see, the two were very much in love - their auras were blending together. Their souls were serene – and radiant too.

It was now clear to Puck how he had lost his connection with her, during this time just passed - and that Marley had made, or regained, her affinity with Brogan once again.

The funeral had brought her here to this place after all. How could he be sad, when he found her now so truly content at last?

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Marley's Funeral

It was windy, the day of Marley's funeral - impossibly, tossedly, windy. The kind of wind that makes you feel insignificant amongst its unpredictably, invisibly, whirling dance.

The sun was hidden from behind a bulbous cloud, yet the air was warm, with the fragrance of freshly cut lawn expiring all around. The garden cemetery was well kept and not far from their property in Basingstoke. London had long run out of vacant plots, and was too noisy for Puck’s liking, regardless. The countryside was more faithful to her memory, he had decided.

Invitations had been emailed to everyone Marley had known. There were many faces Puck did not recognize - co-workers in the perfume industry and others who were involved with the charities that Marley had loved the best.

Her brothers and sisters, along with the menacing uncle, had arrived early, taking the front row. They all stood to inherit handsomely.

Puck wore a dove grey suit and had cropped his hair short for that morning. He had dressed Charlene in her favorite clothes: blue jeans, pink top and sparkly trainers. He held her protectively as they stood staring into the hole dug for the coffin to descend into. There had been rain overnight and a puddle of water had collected in the bottom.

Marley was still nowhere to be seen. This was in itself quite peculiar, as the spirits of the deceased almost always come to watch on at their own funeral parties. Her absence was tearing at Puck's heart - he could not understand how once again she might deny him. He had no knowledge of how Marley was doing, and had lost any sense of where she might be. These puzzles were becoming very difficult for him to comprehend.

He gave Charley over to Goober, deciding that a short walk before the ceremony was better for reflection - he wanted to feel close to her, and needed some moments alone.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

The Heart now gone

"Are you staying for the celebratory refreshments?" asked the porter who had first shown them all in and had now come to pick up the recording. The three thanked him, but decided to leave.

"I cannot believe it’s finally all over" said Goober in wonderment at what he had just seen. "I thought for sure he was to be thrown into a flaming pit or something. Still, it shall be agony enough for him I think?"

"Life will go well for him," said Puck grimly, "He can yet derive happiness - and who knows, when the frustration has ceased its nagging and he invests himself in goodness, he may feel the merits of it accordingly."

"Puck, one thing I don't get ... why couldn't we have just cut to the end bit and the court saved the whole twelve days. We could have weighed the heart from the beginning, couldn't we?"

"Repentance makes the heart much lighter. If he had only had the will to change his ways and feel sorriness for all he did wrong, it would have saved him - he could have kept his power."

Puck said this while watching the little dog lick the blood from his whiskers - seeing that the heart had now gone from the plate.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

Master Yang

"Master Yang, will you please join us?” Maat requested.

The huge ape had been reclining near by. He lumbered over to where Forsythe was standing, and put his big hand to his neck commandingly. Forsythe did not resist.

"There is a sheath about you now, which cannot be removed. No demi-god or demon-magi can loose it from your inner skin. This enchantment upon you, from this day on, is one of ineffectiveness.

“Its purpose is to curtail all that you would do. Wherever you are in the cosmos, on any plane or sphere, your ability herewith will be the least, and all actions of yours will be ineffective, unless to the goodwill of others.

“You have been stripped of any creativity. No new design may be conjured by you, forthwith.

“You are free to travel the universe and assist souls who ask you of their help. To begin with, there is a vacancy for a ferryman going locally - you may convey passengers into this court. That will be all. Yang will escort you to your new employ."

No sooner said, then they were gone. Varnished, banished and vanished.

Then came the applause. Puck had finished his scribing and rolled it up neatly fixing his seal before filing the parchment away into a golden tube.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series

The Black Feather

Nervina noticed that Forsythe was ageing as they spoke and taking on the appearance of a man who was wrinkled. He hoped that this was not happening to all of them sitting in the hall for so long.

Forsythe spoke further, saying, "Catastrophe unites the lower classes, disasters bring people together, famine redistributes the wealth to those who might better manage it ... some humans are destined to be used, and some are so equipped that they might guide and control them. I am proud of my accomplishments and make ownership of all that I have instigated. Yes, I would do it over again. I work for freedom, and the right for the strong to determine fate and dominate."

Maat said to this, "Then so shall it be."

Of course, Forsythe’s power could not match the Court's, yet by his choosing this, they had all decided.

She then took the black feather and dropped it gently onto the disk at the right. The Court watched on. Looking at the two silver plates - one with the heart and the other with the feather - they just sat there, neither moving up nor down. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.

Had the feather weighed heavier than the sad little heart it might have gone well for him. But it did not - neither moved and that was then very much conclusive.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series