The following is edited by Beezone (see full talk) from a talk Chronicles Radio Dispatches
with Julia Sagebien on December 7, 2006.
….that’s when (Rimpoche) said, “We’re going to Nova Scotia” and that was the beginning of the Shambhala Wisdom for me that very day. He really shifted.
Rinpoche said, “This is going to happen. We need it to happen” and he said something interesting. He said, “North America is like the three Kalashas: Mexico, is passion, the U.S., is aggression, and Canada, is ignorance and ultimately we have to work with ignorance.”
There was a question about well what about America…and then over the course of the month and the months to follow we spoke about prophecies, the Shambhala prophesies and he asked me to look into the native American prophecies.
Grandmother Caroline and Karmapa found each other. And they shared stories.
When I went down there years later with my wife and son we talked about the Tibetan prophesies and the Hopi prophecies and how they are one in the same. She said come the turn of the century, the first ten years between 2000 and 2010 there would be tremendous environmental disaster and economic upheaval.
This time is what the Hopi call “the Fifth Time or the Fifth World” I believe. They measure in time cycles and were entering into the fifth time and will be difficult.
So shortly after having that meeting with Grandmother Caroline, I was back at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center and this was one of my last business meetings with Vidyadhara.
One of the first things we spoke about was my trip to Hopi Land and he got really interested and he wanted to know all about it in great detail.He really wanted to know one thing more than anything else. He said, “When do the Hopis think things will change? Did she give you a date?”
I said, “Well, she gave me an approximate date and she said it would be somewhere in the first decade of the new millennium”, and he smiled and said, “She has it right”.
In their quest for technology (knowledge) the people represented on the top line would loose their hearts and think from their heads and not from their hearts. They are called the two hearts or Bahannas. The different cultures of the world are seen on the top line. On the bottom line are the one hearts. read more on the Hopi prophecy
You may also be interested in when Gerald Red Elk, a Lakota Sioux shaman, met Trungpa Rinpoche at Rocky Mountain Dharma Center, during the Magyal Pomra Encampment in July 1984.
“Gerald Red Elk talked about why he had requested to see Chogyam Trungpa. He described the declining situation of his people, as well as the changing of the cycles according to native American tradition.”
read more >>>
“His Holiness expressed a desire to meet with the Hopi Indians in Arizona.”
Steve Roth / As told to Don Morreale in a personal interview
17 July 2010
There’s a famous prediction attributed to Padmasambhava, 8th Century Tibetan saint:
When the iron bird flies,
And horses run on wheels,
The Tibetan people will be scattered like ants across the world
And the Dharma will come to the land of the Red Man
His Holiness with his driver, Steve Roth, 1974
I was fortunate enough to be present at the fulfillment of this prophecy. In October, 1974, His Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa came to Colorado at the invitation of Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche. I was asked to be his personal chauffeur. His Holiness expressed a desire to meet with the Hopi Indians in Arizona. We set about making the necessary arrangements even renting a brand new, gold colored Cadillac as the official vehicle for the journey. We finally left for Arizona trailed by a caravan of cars containing His Holiness’s retinue of attendant monks and lamas, a Tibetan translator named Achi, and around twenty-five American Buddhist practitioners from Karma Dzong in Boulder. Transfixed by the presence of his Holiness, I did my best to drive mindfully.
Early in the afternoon of the following day, we arrived at a place called Second Mesa, a hlgh plateau on the Hopi reservation. It looked like an old chocolate cake. I nosed the Cadillac onto the dirt road that spiraled up around it, and we slowly made our way to the top. Even though it was October, the temperature was well over one-hundred degrees. The place looked dusty, desolate, and poor. A man who looked to be about eighty years old, wearing a plaid shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, approached and greeted His Holiness. His name, he said, was Chief Ned. There was a sweet, loving, and gentle air about him. Through Achi the translator, His Holiness asked: “How goes it? How are things with your people?”
‘Not too good,” replied Chief Ned, “We haven’t had rain in seventy-three days.”
His Holiness listened with an expression of deep compassion on his face. “I will do something for you,” he said.
Then Chief Ned invited us to go down with him into a kiva [ceremonial room] to see some sacred relics. There was a small hole at the top of it with a rickety ladder poking out. When he motioned for us to go down it, His Holiness politely declined. He was a rather large and portly man, and there was no way he could possibly fit through that hole. He asked that the rest of us go down while he remained up above. Down in the cool darkness, Chief Ned showed us an eagle feather and other sacred relics.
When we climbed back up into the sunlight, His Holiness abruptly ended the visit. “Let’s go,” he said, and that was that. We got into the cars and headed back down the dusty road and out across the desert to the Hopi Cultural Center and Motel where we were scheduled to spend the night. As we drove, His Holiness, sitting right across from me in the passenger seat, began chanting a puja and making sacred mudra gestures with his hands.
The desert baked and shimmered in the intense heat. I looked out at the sky and noticed a tiny, sheeplike, fleecy little ball of a cloud, all by itself way out there on the horizon. I didn’t give it much thought. I kept on driving, and the Karmapa kept on chanting, and ten or fifteen minutes went by like that before I glanced up again. Much to my surprise, little puffballs of cloud now polka-dotted the sky from horizon to horizon.
The next time I looked, the clouds had congealed into a solid gray mass. This was getting interesting. By the time we reached the Hopi Cultural Center and Motel, the sky had darkened to an ominous and foreboding black â?? not just black, but a classic,”Cecil-B-DeMille-Moses-and-the-Ten-Commandmentss