Sang-Froid on South Fifth or A History of the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center, in Three Parts

Part 1

Sometime in 1942, Austin, Texas, leased some 3,000 acres to the US military to build an Army air force base. The plot of land was just outside Austin on a site that was once home to a stretch of the Chisholm Trail. On March 3, 1943, it was named Bergstrom Army Air Field in honor of Captain John A. E. Bergstrom, who died at Clark Field, Philippine Islands, on December 8, 1941, and was the first Austinite killed in World War II. Over the years, the base housed a number of military units—the 67th Reconnaissance Wing, the 12th Air Force Headquarters, the 12th Tactical Intelligence Squadron, the 712th Air Support Operations Center, the 10th Air Force Reserve, and the 924th Fighter Group among them. You can imagine that all these men and women needed to live somewhere, and the base was home to many barracks that housed the enlisted and officers alike.

Somewhere along the line, though, a couple of these barracks were discharged from their military service, fused together to make one larger structure, and moved near Town Lake to 1702 South Fifth St. to make a home for an Assembly of God church. And, yes, maybe the barracks were happy with their new home—maybe they’d found something in religion that was lacking in military life. But maybe they longed for battle again, or at least for the presence of warriors. So, in 1979, the building (with a little help from the outgoing Pentecostal group and the incoming Austin Dharmadhatu) was once again conscripted to house warriors, albeit of a much, much different lineage. Who knows? Maybe this building was meant to be filled with warriors.

I recently talked with several of these warriors about the history of the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center. As my own involvement and commitment to the Shambhala Buddhist lineage evolves, I am more and moreinterested in how Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche’s teachings took root here in Central Texas and how this wonderful sangha has grown up over the last three decades. As with most things, knowing more about origin and history has deepened my understanding and appreciation. My thanks go out to all that took time to have these conversations with me, and I hope this article does them justice.

Magnetizing

Long-time sangha member Lawrence Wells remembers his first contact with Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche. "I had read an article in the East–West Journal. It was really, really powerful—it really grabbed me. I said, 'This guy knows something.’” In the early ‘70s, Wells was part of a Kundalini group that studied the teachings of Swami Rudrananda in an apartment off Red River near the University of Texas. In addition to Wells, the group included Tom and Madge Harris, Russell Scott, Newcomb Greenleaf, Winston Pounds, and Valerie Williams among others. Rudrananda, however, died in a plane crash in Indiana and left the group without a teacher. This vacuum would be filled quickly.
"About that time," remembers Wells, "Newcomb and the Harrises—they were sort of the leaders of the group—said, ‘We've run across this Buddhist teacher who's really quite phenomenal,’ and they'd been back and forth to Boulder to see him and they'd invited him down." Not long after, Trungpa Rinpoche came to Trinity University in San Antonio to speak and he made quite an impression, and not entirely a favorable one.

"He had a scotch and was smoking a cigarette and of course, everybody was so turned off," says Wells. "This guy just couldn't be the real thing."  But Wells acknowledges there was something there. The next year Trungpa came back to Trinity and during this visit the group made more of a connection with him.

By this time, several members of the group had moved to a big house at 806 Baylor St. in the Clarksville neighborhood and had decided to form a study group to examine more closely Trungpa's teachings, which were being brought back from Boulder by various members of the group. Gone were the Kundalini breathing techniques and other practices—now there was just sitting.

Soon Trungpa came to Austin and the group rented a hotel ballroom for a talk. By this time, Trungpa had gained some fame as a teacher, and the ballroom was packed. However, the Baylor house did manage to spend time with him, deepening the connection they had made. As Wells says, "It was mostly just socializing. I remember we all went down to the Radisson Hotel, I can’t remember what it was called then, but we went to the bar. We used to just hang out with him a lot. It was good because he was very accessible back then.” Trungpa encouraged them to sit and study and by the time he came back to Austin for a crowded lecture at UT, the connection between Trungpa and the group was cemented.

More and more people started to show up at 806 Baylor to find out about Trungpa, Buddhism, and meditation. At this point, Trungpa began sending teachers to Austin from Boulder, among them Sherab Kohn, Tom Bell, and Thomas Rich (soon to be the Vajra Regent), who, as Wells says, was very important to the fledgling group. "He magnetized people—very powerful. Lots of lungta…incredible."

In the late ‘70s, the members of the group formalized their connection to Trungpa’s international organization, Vajradatu International, and became Austin Dharmadatu. They were mandated to follow certain guidelines and were required to meditate at least 20 hours each month. The fledgling sangha at 806 Baylor also began to host Buddhist programs based on Trungpa’s popular book Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism, as well as open houses where interested people could come by, have dinner, hear a taped lecture, and have a discussion. The Vajra Regent also came to Austin to hold intensive training sessions in the Hill Country outside of Austin. (Interesting sign of the times: A two-day program called, “Transforming Confusion into Wisdom,” held in Kerrville in 1977 cost $70, including room and board.)

At this point, Austin Dharmadatu was on the map and merited two ambassadors from Boulder, Daniel and Judy Staffler. The Stafflers, who stayed on as teachers-in-residence in Austin until the late ‘80s, supervised the Buddhist training at Austin Dharmadatu and also taught programs that were hosted by the University Students Buddhist Association on the campus of UT.

While the group was stabilizing and beginning to build a foundation of practice and study, their physical setting would see some shake-ups. Having to move out of their 806 Baylor location, Austin Dharmadatu first moved to another house on Baylor and then on to one of Winston Pounds’ commercial rental properties on Medical Parkway.

South Austin Bound

But the Medical Parkway location didn’t really suit the growing sangha’s needs, and, after about a year at that location, they found out about a Pentecostal church that had outgrown its current building and were looking to sell. Sangha member Mike Parten stepped in as a co-signer in order to finance the property and, once the deal went through, Austin Dharmadatu moved into its new home at 1702 S. Fifth St. in 1979.

About this time, another long-time student was having his first contact with the mandala in Boulder. Ron Bounous had been at a conference where he met Trungpa Rinpoche. “It really stopped my mind,” recalls Bounous. So, when Bounous returned to Austin, he called Daniel Staffler. “I called him when I got back, and he was my meditation instructor. When I called, he said, ‘Come on over. We’re just moving in.’” Bounous remembers the tight economic times of those days. “I remember there were 13 of us,” he says. “And we had this new mortgage. Mike Parten put up the down payment and backed the mortgage.” But while there may have been only 13 dues-paying members, there were plenty of other dedicated people to pass out flyers, work on the building, help with programs, and do the many other tasks it took to keep Austin Dharmadatu flourishing.

Lynn Wolfe, another senior student, remembers hearing about how the building got to its present location on S. Fifth St. “That was their church,” she recalls, speaking of the Smiths, who lived next door to the building up until the late 1990s. “What Mr. Smith told me was that the building had come from the military base. He told me it came from Bergstrom—it was probably some sort of a hall. His congregation had moved it.” 

In 1980, Austin Dharmadatu was one of 12 Dharmadatus in the U.S. and Canada, and according to a directory from January 28, 1980, the sangha numbered 35 people. The ‘80s were a busy time for the sangha. "There was a lot of teaching starting to happen. A lot of classes being offered—people starting to find their way," recalls Wells. Teachers coming at this time included the Dorje Loppön (whose parents lived here; his father was a retired Lutheran minister and the dean at Concordia College), the Vajra Regent, David Rome, and Robin Kornman. “The Loppön came here the most. We were close to the Loppön. That's who we'd try to get," says Wells. "He was one of the absolute best teachers."

Carol Lovett, who moved to Austin from Houston in 1980, remembers the physical changes that the Center went through in the early ‘80s. “This place was completely different; completely reversed. There was one bathroom and somebody lived here—a caretaker. You know the library now? That was her room.” In the early ‘80s, an ongoing curriculum of Buddhist programs, as well as the newer Shambhala Training levels, had begun to crowd the growing sangha.

Wolfe remembers there were quite a few carpenters at the Center in the early ‘80s. “They determined that they needed to change the shape of the building.” In the fall of 1983, Staffler and building supervisor Joe Inskeep drew up a new floor plan for Austin Dharmadatu, which included a Ngondro shrine in the easternmost room of the building and a different orientation for the main shrine room (the current layout of the building). The Center had about $1,500 cash on hand and the estimated cost for these renovations was about $10,000. “We had lots of yard sales,” remembers Wolfe. “That was our favorite way of raising money. We just put big tables out in the front yard and everybody would bring their things.”

In the early ‘80s, Austin Dharmadatu often had to struggle to come up with money to keep programs running, resident teachers paid, and, sometimes even to keep the power on. “We’d often have to raise money to pay the electric bill,” says Wolfe. “Our electricity would get turned off—we were a small number of people.” Paying the bills would fall to Bounous. “I’d have to stand in the utility line before they closed at 5:00 pm or they’d cut it off!” Bounous remembers with a laugh. “So I checked out how we could rent a generator. We had a yard sale every weekend in the summer that we could.”

Fund raising took more interesting shapes as well during this time. Bounous recalls, “Then we discovered we could get these mattresses, used mattresses, from these motels. So we’d sell them in the neighborhood, and the motels that gave them to us would get a tax deduction for their donation. So we were in the mattress business!” With no central air conditioning and inefficient gas heaters, the practice sessions were uncomfortable. “We practiced morning and night—6:30 in the morning and 7:30 at night,” recalls Bounous. Practitioners wrapped in blankets to ward off the winter chill were not an uncommon sight as the gas heaters struggled to keep up. “We kept the lights on,” says Bounous proudly.

While keeping the Center up and running wasn’t easy, there was a developing sense of sangha at the S. Fifth St. location. “When we’d have visiting teachers,” remembers Bounous, “we’d have dinner at someone’s home, usually the Inskeeps, and everyone would bring something—and it was rather formal—because we couldn’t afford to go out. But it was very nice; it was a real tight community.” Bounous also remembers the social scene of the mid-80s. “In the sangha,” Bounous says with a smile, “we had carpenters and musicians; the carpenters were real useful. And musicians—we had some really noisy parties! They were pretty wild, and we’d always expect the police.”

Ron Bounous laughs as he recounts those days, but in a more thoughtful tone, he adds, “The early years were like homesteading—the first thing was survival, then take care of your immediate neighbors and people, and then you can go out.”

Part 2

In the first part of this article, we saw how a group of people practicing meditation in an apartment off Red River, a Tibetan lama exiled from his home, and an old Army barracks crashed into each other to create the Austin Dharmadhatu in south Austin. And with a core of dedicated practitioners and the growing popularity of Shambhala Training programs, the group was settling into its home quite nicely. By the mid-80s, they had already proven their mettle by overcoming a variety of obstacles. They had persevered through several moves, they had coped with remodeling their building, they had scrimped and raised funds and had managed to make Austin Dharmadhatu financially viable. But maybe their biggest achievement to date is that they had become a cohesive group of practitioners, a sangha- and in a country where Buddhism was not, to say the very least, the norm. But all the financial problems, personality issues, and day-to-day hindrances would pale in comparison to the challenges they would face in the coming years.

The Vidyadhara

"Have you ever heard the Vidyadhara sing the anthem?” asks Ron Bounous with a laugh. "He'd sing it in this little, high-pitched voice. Somebody asked him once why he sang it in that squeaky way, and he said, “So you'll know my voice in the bardo."  Trungpa Rinpoche died on April 4th, 1987, and Austin Dharmadhatu and the whole of the international mandala lost its center.

In 1986, Trungpa had a fall and his resulting injuries put his health in grave jeopardy.  Austin  Dharmadhatu's prac­tice kicked into high gear. Carol Lovett remembers, "We had round the clock vigils here at the center. Everybody was crying a lot- it was as if he'd already died." His condi­tion worsened throughout the spring of the following year and in April he died in Halifax. "I had just come back from Seattle when a friend of mine called me and said that Rinpoche died. I looked out the window and there was a rainbow," remembers Lovett. And while the sangha grieved the loss of their teacher, there was also a sense that their practice was much bigger than just one man. Lynn Wolfe remembers the revelation that it was more about the teachings, the sangha. "It's not just one person; it's not a rock band." Trungpa's powerful teachings and his person­ality also seemed indelibly pressed into the sangha's psy­che. As Bounous says, "There was a sense that he didn't leave because we were all his students."

The Vajra Regent

Whatever rudderless quality that came with Trungpa's death was also tempered by the fact that he had named his Vajra Regent back in 1976.  Ösel Tendzin was now heading up the international community. "It felt OK," recalls Lovett. "The regent was there, the Sawang was a teenager and studying hard in India."  The Regent had been to Austin many times and led retreats and programs here. The Austin sangha felt close to him.  Wolfe says, "We always really appreciated the Regent. He was an extremely important person to this sangha." As a testament to this, several of his calligraphies hang in the Center today. That the regent was promiscuous with both men and women was not a matter of great concern with the sangha. "We knew who the Regent was," says Lovett. "It was never a big deal." As Bounous says, "At that point, most people were OK with the Regent- later they weren't; there was a big division"

Lovett remembers, "Then the rumors started- he was sick, he had AIDS, he was looking so bad. When I was with him in Boulder after some of these rumors had begun to circulate, he looked very thin, but at this point nothing substantial had come out." When it became more certain that the Regent had the HIV virus and was continuing to sleep with people, tensions began to run high. "It wasn't that he had AIDS," says Lovett. "It was that he kept on sleeping with people." Lawrence Wells remembers, "It was a very, very chaotic time. Everything was fine and then that caused a tremendous upheaval­- paranoia, meanness- although we held it together pretty well.  We had a lot of people that left; it definitely had an effect. A lot of people here were very upset and didn’t want to go along with the things that the Regent was proposing." In August of 1990, Ösel Tendzin died in San Francisco and, onceagain, the community lost its main teacher.

And while many people left the center, Austin Dharmdhatu's phys­ical location in Texas provided a sort of protection from the confusion and chaos surrounding the Regent's illness and death. "We were lucky we were so isolated," says Lovett.  "There was all sorts of stuff going on in Boulder- there'd be his picture on the shrine and somebody would go take it down, and then someone else would put it back up." Wolfe also remembers Austin Dharma­dhatu keeping its seat during this tumultuous time, due in no small way to Bounous. "It was a very tense time, and Ron really lead us and helped keep the sanity.  We didn'tsuffer near as much as some of the other centers." Bounous remem­bers this being a difficult timeas well, but he says that when the Regent died "it actually had a heal­ing quality- he was not there to fight about. We just emphasized practice and tried not to get into the conflicts, which were really strong; there was very intense practice here, always has been, and I thinkthat's what got us through."

What also helped AustinDharmadhatu was sage advice from visiting teachers. Wellsremembers getting guidance from Khyentse Rinpoche and Kalu Rinpoche.  Wolfe also remembers kind words from Khyentse Rinpoche. "He said, 'I know you're sad, but it willbe OK.  I’ve seen him die twice already!'"When Khenpo Kartar Rinpoche came to Dallas, some Austin Dharmadhatu members, including Lovett, went to see him. "Khenpo Kartar was in Dallas," she recalls.  We had an audiencewith him to talk about the Regent. There were three or four of us, it was very emotional. Khenpo Kartar walks in and sits down and he was so sweet and we all just broke out crying. He had­n't said a word- we were just so worn out and he was just who he was, just unconditional kindness."

The Sawang Arrives

But while the Regent was waning, another force of unconditional kindness was growing. The Sawang (Trungpa Rinpoche's oldest son, Ösel Rangdrol) had emerged from years of studying with Khyentse Rinpoche and had begun to take on more and more responsibility in the Shambhala world. He began to teach in North America, South America, and Europe, and it became clear that he would soon fillthe center of the international man­dala left open by his father and then the Vajra Regent. The Sawang's rise also meant a change in organiza­tion; in 1992, he announced the for­mation of an umbrella organization, Shambhala. Several of the activities and practices that his father advanced- namely Shambhala Training, Dharmadhatu and Nalanda-wouldnow be adminis­tered through Shambhala withthe Sawang as itshead. In the third and final installment of this history, we'llsee how the Sawang came to assume the international leadership of the lineage and what dramatic changes that his arrival entailed.
Stay tuned.

Part 3

From Chair to Director

Whenever I talk to my friend, a Zen practioner in Seattle, she always asks me about Austin Dharmadhatu: Have I been over to the Dharmadhatu lately? How big is the group at Austin Dharmadhatu? I have to explain to her one of the core practices of Shambhala Buddhism­ that of switching manes every so often. I'm still hoping that someone will have the guts to go by their given name, their refuge name, their bodhisattva name, and their Shambhala name all hyphenated together- now that would be monogram.

But some of the most crucial name changes in the Shambhala Buddhist mandala took place in the 90s. During the early 90s, the Sawang (Trungpa Rinpoche's old­est son, Ösel Rangdrol) had emerged from years of studying with Khyentse Rinpoche and had begun to take on more and more responsibility in the Shambhala world. He began to teach in North ­ America, South America, and Europe, and it became clear that he would soon fill the center of the international mandala left open by his father and then the Vajra Regent. The Sawang's rise also meant a change in organization; in 1992, he announced the formation of an umbrella organ­ization, Shambhala. Several of the activities and practices that his father advanced--namely Shambhala Training, Dharmadhatu, and Nalanda- would now be adminis­tered through Shambhala with the Sawang as its head.  With this organizational shift, Austin Dharmadhatu became the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center, a name more in line with its diverse practices. But striking a balance between traditional Tibetan Buddhist prac­tices and Shambhala Training was tough for the Center.

"Things took off with Shambhala Training in about early 90s," remembers Wells. "Rinpoche really had to convince people to do this and finally people started getting it. We all resented it. ­We had a Buddhist practice, we had things to do, but that all slowly changed."

In 1995, many Austin sangha members went to Nova Scotia as the Sawang was formally installed as Sakyong ("Earth protector”). His Holiness Penor Rinpoche presided over the ceremony and also recognized the Sakyong as the rebirth of the 19th century master Mipham Jamyang Namgyal. In the mid-90s, the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center's operations were guided by a council, an arrangement that maybe had too much democracy.

"We had meetings to discuss whether to buy a $20 microphone," remembers Jessica Winslow, a member of the council during that era. The council process could be rough, especially considering that the Center was made up of three gates- Shambhala Training, Dharmadhatu, and Nalanda. And while ultimately, these three styles of practice had much in common, each had its own interests, schedules, and needs.  To top it off, there just wasn't that much space at the Center and Shambhala Training was starting to attract more and more people. One of the early chairs of the Shambhala Council was Roger Duncan. Duncan was a former Austin City Council member and brought his experience there to chairing the council at the Center. "Roger Duncan did it for a few years," remem­bers Winslow. "And it was more of a meeting facilitator position. There was a lot of squabbling. He implement­ed Robert's Rules of Order and ran it in a very organized way so that everybody got a chance to get their opinion heard, no matter what it was." After Duncan stepped down, longtime practitioner Larry Higgins stepped in and chaired the council for the next year or so, main­taining the very organized structure of the meetings that began under Duncan. As Winslow recalls, "ten­sions were diminishing" during that period and the council was running fairly smoothly.

In the fall of 1998, after Higgins stepped down, Winslow sent off her application for the council chair job to Shambhala headquarters in Halifax; what she got back was a surprise and ushered in yet another new style of organization in Shambhala. Instead of becom­ing chair of the council, the very official letter from Shambhala congratulated her on being named Director of the Center- the old bait-and-switch. "I thought I was just taking this council chair position; somebody sent my name into Halifax to get approval. And then I got the letter that said, 'We're delighted to confirm your appointment as Center director!'" laughs Winslow.

Shambhala International was beginning to realize that the council approach might not be the best, so now each Shambhala Center, whether it was Austin or Boston, had a director.. The hope being that a slightly more top-to-bottom arrangement would get more done with more speed and less headaches. The next year, Winslow went to Halifax to meet with the Sakyong and all the center directors at Dorje Denma Ling, an unprecedented meeting of center leaders, practice cen­ter leaders, and Acharyas.

The Land, the House, and the Sakyong

During this time, Winslow remembers a real pulling together. "The council really began to work together-we had all these goals: the Smith house, the Sakyong’s Visit, the landscaping. There was a great level of trust between council members- it was fabulous and it’s continued that way; it's just been great." The council began to carefully analyze the Center's needs in a way that it hadn't done before. "We went through a lot of strategic planning on a council level. We spent a lot of time trying to figure out who we are, what we're doing." And out of the flip charts, meetings, visioning sessions, and dialogue began to emerge a more accurate picture of who the sangha was and what it needed to flourish. Of course, the old stal­warts, space and time, took center stage, and the council began to plan for some uplifting improvements for the Center, including the purchase of the building next door, affectionately known as the Smith house.

Sometimes the exotic words associated with the Shambhala world can I be a bit daunting.  Mahakala, Dorje, Phurba, Bhumi don't easily trip off the Western tongue, so it can be new, then, when an easier name comes along, like Smith. "He really liked hamburgers," says Lynn Wolfe of Mr. Smith. "He wasn't supposed to have them. But he'd say, I want you to go up to Fran's and get us some burgers,' and we’d sit there, eating burgers and chatting." As Lynn Wolfe recalls, the Smiths were "friends of the Center." They were always curious and supportive of the doings next door. When they died, the Austin Shambhala Center immediately talked to their daughter about selling the building. But the house sat empty for years as the Smith family weighed their options. Finally, the Smiths' daughter was ready to sell, and the Center began to get its ducks in a row to finance the purchase. "We'd talked tothe bank, we'd lined up the financing and were ready to go," remembers Winslow, the director at this time. “People were able to make pret­ty good donations. We raised almost $20,000- it was pretty wonderful. The economy was doing great then." And while the sangha felt good about being able to purchase a new property through the bank, a private donor stepped in and provided an arrangement that would allow the Center to buy the property outright. The new house and land gave the sangha some much-needed resources. Now there was an extra shrine room, an office, a kitchen, and a children's room- incredibly valuable space for a growing group who was routinely packing the calendar with programs from all three gates.

In addition to the new space, the Center began to transform its existing property. To prepare for the Sakyong's visit, the sangha began a blood-sweat-and­ tears style landscaping project that saw a huge range of improvements. The "before" shot of the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center would show a simple ranch-style house with a rather plain front yard. The "after" shot would show a property bursting with plants and flowers, a yard graced with a fountain and cinder path, a new deck attached to the front of the building, a beautiful Tori gate, fresh paint, and a host of other improvements. And, of course, the "during" shot is full of work days, wheel barrows, pick axes, lumber, and dozens of community members giving their time and effort in the stifling heat of a Texas fall.

Y2K

When the Sakyong arrived in Austin in the spring of 2000, what he saw at 1702 S. 5th Street was the culmina­tion of a phenomenon that had been under way since he was a pre- teen. As Carol Lovett says, "We've had a lot of teachers here, a lot of Rinpoches. Many in the sangha have connected here and gone on-we've really been a good portal for people to make a connection."

And while the building will continue to change like it has since its inception at Bergstrom Army Air Field, it will also continue to be filled with warriors. So many people have worked with their minds in this space, so many people have done walking meditation, staffed, meditated, served, cleaned, painted, so many people have practiced here. A traditional Zen image of learning the dharma compares it to walking in the mist- you don't feel that you're getting wet, but once you get inside, you realize that you're soaked straight through. True too of the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center. Thirty years of practice-soaking those walls and floors and cushions and shrines. Thirty years of people soaking in their thoughts, working with their minds. Thirty years of sangha soaking up each other and the teachings of the Vidyadhara, the Regent, the Sakyong, and all the others. Sometimes sitting by myself early in the morning in the main shrine room, when the rest of building is empty and quiet, I have to smile because I always think of a scrap of 70s advertising; it's Madge the Manicurist from Palmolive reminding me of something we should all feel at the Austin Shambhala Meditation.

Since the Sakyong's visit in 2000, the Center has continued to grow. Jake Lorfing took over the Director duties in the summer of 2001, and has shepherded in a more outward focus for the Center's vision, with participation in Habitat for Humanity and more recently, partici­pation in the Austin Area Ministerial Alliance and its many service pro­grams, along with more inclusive­ness for members. The Smith House remodeling has been completed, and the Center's third shrine room there is in active use with practice, classes and meetings. Several grounds proj­ects have focused on the Smith House, gradually integrating the two properties. Numerous visiting teach­ers and guests, including the Sakyong this past April, have commented on the beauty, the peacefulness and the welcoming qualities of the Center and its grounds.

The GARUDA VIEW would like to thank all the people that have shared their time, memories, and ideas in talking about the history of Shambhala Buddhism in Austin. I hope that someone will continue this project and preserve the rich history in detail.

Learn more about meditation and buddhism at shambhala.org

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Shambhala Austin Meditation Center
1702 South Fifth Street, Austin,  TX 78704
Tel. (512) 443 3263    Email: austinshambhala@gmail.com