Listening To Mis Misa
Tales from the 9th Cycle of Mt. Shasta Pilgrimages

The point is to make intimate contact with the real world, real self. Sacred refers to that which helps take us out of our little selves into the whole mountains-and-rivers mandala universe.....Nature is not a place to visit, it is home.
-- Gary Snyder

It is an old magical secret that the way we define reality shapes reality. Name a thing and you invoke it. If we call the world non-living, we will surely kill her. But when we can name the world alive, we begin to bring her back to life.
-- Star Hawk

When people come to the mountain quietly with respectful reverence, they can hear Mis Misa singing. When they come without respect, when they do not listen, Mis Misa sings less. Eventually, if people continue to come and not listen, she will stop altogether and then leave, thus throwing the Earth out of balance. A malady that seems to be notably visible in the conditions occurring around the world today.

I had just returned from my ninth consecutive year guiding groups of pilgrims to Mt. Shasta. Our purpose and intention was to listen to Mis Misa singing so that she might help us find our lives and live them in a good way. In this year of El Nino, even in late June, the mountain was covered by snow. In fact, there was fifteen feet of snow at the trailhead and we needed snowshoes to make our way. Without them we would sink deep into the white wet mush that blanketed the entire area.

We'd met for a year, once a month, getting ready, stretching and strengthening our "listening muscles". At each meeting one member of the group would come into the center of our ritual circle and enter into a shamanic journey accompanied by drumming, chant, rattling, song and movement. The year included a commitment to pray daily for each person in the group. Sending a prayer is like shooting an arrow toward a target. The arrow-prayer is a shaft of energetic intention invoking the help of the Great Spirit so that the prayer will manifest. The person sending the prayer must follow its flight with accompanying right action; thoughts and behavior in alignment with the intent of the prayer. If the prayer is for healing, it is imperative that the sender focus their mind only on healing thoughts and actions. Anything else must be shifted to be in accord with the prayer for healing.

You've got to live, You've got to love, every day.
That's what I mean
when I say,
the word, pray.
-- old blues song

We drove up the mountain and found gray skies and light rain falling at the end of the road. We pitched our tents on the snow and went to bed. It rained all night. The next morning was no better. The sky was totally covered in gray clouds, the mountain was lost in gray, even the rain was gray. Probably snowing at higher elevations I reasoned. There was no way we were going to hike into that weather. So we formed a circle and discussed options. One of our group, on their first camping trip, was freaked out at the prospect of sleeping on the snow. Instead our companion had spent a long night in the bathroom and was now ready to leave entirely. I had to remember how nervous I was on my first outing in order to access compassion and empathy since I was excited just to be there on this glorious mountain, bad weather or not.

As it turned out, the initial "bad" weather was a gift. If we had tried to go beyond our skill level, we could have gotten into profound trouble. It seems as if Mis Misa was protecting us by taking it out of our hands. The most viable option was to climb each day, but not go past what was safe for our skill level and endurance.

After our circle and the clearing weather, we strapped on snow shoes and headed in the direction of Green Butte Ridge, the safest route. On the way up we took a break to learn ice ax arrests and glissade techniques. Arrests are ways of using the ice ax as a brake to keep a slip from becoming a disastrous fall. Glissade is a method of decent using the ax as a brake and rudder in a controlled slide down the mountain. Great, thrilling, exhilarating fun! After hours of climbing we finally made it onto an exposed section of Green Butte Ridge. The sunlight was brilliant. It was strong as it ricocheted off the field of snow that it burned the unprotected parts of my face to a crisp leaving me a week of peeling to remember Mis Misa's call for total consciousness attuned to the demands of being with her in a way of skillful respect. The wind was howling, and the views were magnificent in all directions--upwards towards the cloud bedecked summit, all around us turrets of ice castles and sweeping steep cliffs, below the surrounding lowlands and the town of Mt. Shasta, Castle Crags to the west and Mt. Lassen a hundred miles away to the east.

This was to be our summit. We could go no further except on this narrow (perhaps 12 inches wide) exposed ledge of Green Butte itself. A slip here would plunge the climber into a hurtling, horrifying fall down the steep escarpment that only the most expert ice ax arrest could stop before total disaster. It would be hard enough to keep your balance on this terrifying path in the best of conditions, let alone try it with winds powerful enough to knock you off your feet. No, this was where we stop. Besides, just to get here was a real test of stamina and endurance for most of our group. We weren't strong enough to go beyond this spot. Mis Misa had stopped us right where we needed to be. Gasping for breath, gulping much needed and rapidly disappearing water supplies, we took in the majesty of what lay beneath and all around us, surveying our accomplishment, taking some pictures. Then we headed back for the long trek down to base camp.

Upon returning to camp I was exhausted and ready for some soup and surrender into my sleeping bag for the night. But others thought it would be better to drive down the mountain to a campsite out of the snow where we could build a fire and sit in circle enjoying each other's company. This was not realistic where we were. I was tired and irritable. I didn't want to go through the trouble of taking down my tent and having to put it up again. I knew the move served our best interests so I went along with it, but not without some grumbling and pouting. It was hard to keep up that vein of behavior however. As we drove down the mountain and the sun was setting, a huge series of rainbows filled the eastern sky and evaporated my sour mood with their effervescent colors.

In the warmth of the Sacred Fire and the comfort of a camp on dry Earth near a gurgling stream--sitting together enjoying food, company, song and prayer--I fell into an easy sleep that held me in its grip until the following dawn. Shortly after breakfast and morning prayers, we split into two groups, and headed toward Casaval Ridge; the other ridge on the western side of Avalanche Gulch. It's going up Casaval, when the way gets steep, when my lungs are fighting for oxygen and my leg muscles crying out, "Isn't there something else you could be doing that isn't so hard!?" It's then I begin to hear the singing of Mis Misa. My pace is very very slow now, a few steps up, then rest and gasp for breath. As I pick one foot up for the next movement forward, I hear a soft refrain that gives me renewed strength as I listen to it willingly and take in its meaning: "I don't have it, but you do!"

A new mantra. I start repeating it to myself in pace with my steps. It reminds me of previous "medicine messages" from Mis Misa in years past. "Don't try to climb the mountain on your strength alone. In the fresh mountain air, in the clouds, connect with the power beneath your feet. Use its energy to help you overcome your own resistance and weakness. Let go of the 'quit-I-tis, giving-up-when-the-going-gets-tough' program that seems to raise its ugly head as elevation gains and oxygen dwindles." "I don't have it, but you do!" Mis Misa is singing me into deepening awareness. The way to climb mountains successfully (the physical ones and the metaphysical ones that are the challenges of our lives) is to not depend on the small "I" of ego for the needed resources. Instead, she guides, align with the larger presence; the always present presence of Great Spirit. My resources are limited and dry up, or run out quickly under adverse conditions. But the energy of the Great Tao, the Sacred Mystery, Wakan Tanka, Creator is infinite and free for the taking. It is available to all of us when we make the shift from ego to Spirit.

Making this shift--one breath, one step, at a time--brings forth inspired power while reminding me to be fully present in each moment. Be present each instant, take it all in, don't miss one opportunity to gather and be with the power, beauty and majesty that is all around me here in this place of magnificent design and being. I feel my spiritual and psychic batteries being charged, fed, nourished, strengthened. What a blessing to be here. Enjoy it all; the exertion, the challenge to muscles and mind, the incredible texture of sparkling ice crystals beneath my feet, my pounding heart, the soaring heights above me, the shrinking world far below me. Don't miss a thing, get it all, fill up with it so I can use it back home. Say yes. Yes to life. Yes to now. Yes to being. Yes to going for it. Yes to Mis Misa. Yes to making the shift from ego to Spirit. Yes.

The following day, higher up on the same ice-encrusted ridge, heading out by moonlight at four in the morning, we reach a rock ledge that allows for a comfortable rest. We take off our day packs and sit down to wait for the sun to rise and warm our frozen bodies. Eating, joking, laughing, praying, we take in the beauty that surrounds us. As moonlight begins to fade and the first light of a new day comes in from the eastern doorway, an amazing gift of grace begins to unfold right beneath us. Off to our right, several hundred yards below there is a river of fog flowing from west to east. What is unique about this flowing stream of fog is that it's not gray. This one is suffused with the colors of the rainbow--a rainbow fog-river! We watch in amazement as it continues to flow for over an hour until the bright rays of Father Sun come over the ridge and dissolve the rainbow back into the mystery.

Whew.

Pompadios Great Spirit for the fantastic light show. This was a new one. I'd never seen it before in all my years in the mountains. I'm thankful for all those who contributed to getting us up this early and to the effort to climb high so that we could witness this gift. It reminds me, once again, of all that is gained by making the extra effort. Overcoming inertia and resistance, going higher where the vision expands, one can see a vista that is not available when the effort is not made; when we stay in our comfort zones.

That evening we descend into the town of Mt. Shasta to the Gate House where we bathe, have a great dinner in town and hold a sharing circle in the tipi. That night we narrate the stories of our medicine gifts from the mountain; the fruits of our listening to the singing of Mis Misa. The following morning we perform a closing ceremony by the headwaters of the Sacramento River. Here Big Spring gushes out of the bowels of the Earth and rushes off downstream in a song-filled dance of splashing white water fresh from the mountain snows. Each of us drops tobacco into the water which holds our prayers and carries them downstream towards the homes and lives we left behind. As I watch the tobacco drop into the stream carrying with it all our hopes and wishes for our lives, I am reminded of some words of wisdom from Rainer Maria Rilke:

Do not search for answers to be given you, for if given, they would be of no use because you could not live them. For the present, live in the question, and little by little, almost unconsciously, you will enter the answers and live them too.

And speaking of entering answers, I carry the 'medicine reminder of deeper truth teachings' of Mis Misa, "I don't have it, but You do." sung into my soul. Now the challenge is making the integration bridge back home, bringing the message into my daily life and the mountains to be climbed each day. Overcoming reactivity, habituation, comfort-zone-itis, distraction, you name it; that is my task. Like the young monks asked by the master to fill a sieve with a cup of water, frustration is the name of the game. They became very frustrated because the water kept draining through. One intrepid monk finally could stand it no longer. He went back to the master and asked, "How do you expect us to do this? It just isn't possible." The master looked at him calmly, then picked up the sieve. She twirled it around her head twice, then hurled it out into the ocean where the sieve immediately filled up with water. Ah so. Immersion.

I DON'T HAVE IT, BUT YOU DO.