The Road to Shamballa

Have come across the idea in several works of fiction recently of rchetypal city whose shadowed reflections are known to us as every city everywhere. I bring this up because one aspect of fiction that I have enjoyed over the years is how meaningful concepts embedded in our collective consciousness express themselves as art sometimes without the author or artist realizing their origin..

It gets passed off as “There is nothing new under the sun. Just new ways to present it, but certain stories which ring true will always find new expression as belief and knowledge in them has given them an existence beyond memory, an existence which one could say, they fight to keep.

These living archetypes have left their mark on us. Each new self-help book or concept that involves classifying people into different types is an echo of similar methods of classification practiced by older cultures People according to their natures as revealed by oracle become devotees (either priests or priestesses or perhaps wards) of different god forces. In a very real sense, they embody that archetype not to the exclusion of others, we each contain the universe

Archetypal forces express themselves in our culture in various ways. In how we view the heavens, In how we name our days and months. Even in how we classify things such as diseases, foods and plants. Each generation of children are brought up with stories of young heroes who go on quests aided by wise men and fools, encountering strange beings along the way only to find themselves reaching adulthood and vanquishing the foes of their youth. The Story as I’ve said before endures.