Saturday morning, 9 o’clock. Yeah, road trip! Off to the mountains. Since Friday night, my heart has been leaping with the thought of visiting Shambhala Mountain Center. Once Boulder is behind us, Highway 287 turns into one of those unmistakable slopes that opens our view from a peak to this never-ending rolling wide space. “I’ve never seen anything like this in Europe”, I tell Kat who is sitting next to me finding all of this quite ordinary. We do not even have the word space in my own language, yet here we can feel it everywhere.
Deeper and deeper we dive into this landscape, seeing those beautiful rocks. 2,500 m of height are getting serious, the air is fresh and clear, the wind is strong. Suddenly, we’re there. “Take Great Eastern Sun Road!”, the friendly Shambhalian at the gate advises us. „I will not miss that!“ The smell of pine trees is all around us, small and sturdy flowers, sandy paths, a birch grove, wide open grassland full of sage, tents. We travel on, and between spells of silence I tell K. what I know about Chögyam Trungpa discovering the place, about what he brought with him and why there are tents around. Each of us explores this place, the stupa, for herself. I find something I consider valuable in my pocket for the spot where everyone is supposed to leave something behind. Then I go in and dive into this richly filled silent void.
On our way back we take the highway with all the giant supermarkets, truck rents and commercial areas. But despite all the hugeness, no space will open here; the eye keeps getting caught by the signs, the never-ending space is disrupted.