Grandfather's Story

In the legends of my people there are many events in 'our history' that have precise meaning. Our traditions are passed down by oral 'historians'. As a people we have been taught, for all seasons, to listen to these stories and to apply the lessons within the stories to everyday life.

The story of Mis Misa is one of our most important. Mis Misa is the tiny, yet powerful, spirit that lives within Akoo-Yet (Mount Shasta) and balances the Earth with the universe and the universe with the Earth. Its assigned duty makes Akoo-Yet the most necessary of all of the mountains upon Earth, for Mis Misa keeps the Earth the proper distance from the Sun and keeps everything in its proper place when Wonder and Power stir the universe with a giant yet invisible ja-pilo-o (canoe paddle). Mis Misa keeps the Earth from wandering away from the rest of the universe. It maintains the proper seasons and the proper atmosphere for life to flourish as Earth changes seasons on its journey around the Sun.

This tale tells us that Akoo-Yet was the first mountain created, long ago, and that it is a spiritual place. It is a mountain that must be worshipped not only for its special beauty and its unique power, but also because it holds Mis Misa deep within it.

In the old lessons, and according to the old laws, to ascend this mountain with a pure heart and a real purpose, and to communicate with all of the lights and all of the darkness of the universe is to place your spirit in a direct line from the songs of Mis Misa to the heart of the universe. Few people are able to accomplish this. To do so, a person must be born for making and maintaining the 'connection' between his/her nation and all that there is -- and for no other purpose. This is one way Nature has of ensuring the health of the whole Earth.

In a balanced society that experiences few interruptions, 'long-range plans' are maintained that will ensure the continuation of the society and the honouring of Mis Misa. The people will continue to live, it is said, for as long as the instructions from the spirit of the universe are honestly obeyed.

Traditionally, therefore, it is imperative that the practice of communicating with Mis Misa be maintained. Now that 'civilisation' has permeated our native homeland, of course, there are few Original People who think in this manner. The linear thought patterns of 'education' have made some of us ashamed of our language, our songs and our traditions.

But the imposing Euro-American intrusion into this hemisphere will never completely destroy our songs, or cause us to forget to think beautiful thoughts about all of the precious life that surrounds us -- or to forget the ceremony that must be maintained in order for that precious life to flourish.

Akoo-Yet and Mis Misa are little known and may never be sacred to 'civilisation', to which Akoo-Yet is known as Mount Shasta. To modern people, no songs come from it. It is a 'natural resource'. It is property of the United Sates. It is a piece of real estate. Its timber is a valuable resource, and it must be subject to political gymnastics as individuals within the American government and corporate society connive to manipulate the income from the sale of its forests for their personal advantage.

Neither the individuals of the American government nor the individuals of the corporate world 'see' the thousands of life forms that are a part of Akoo-Yet's forests. They do not 'see' the bacteria necessary to maintain that forest, they do not 'see' the animals and birds that are displaced or destroyed as the mountains are shaved clean of forests. They do not 'see' the insects and the butterflies of the forest as an element in balance with the universe.

However, they do see this mountain as an object that can be 'developed' to entertain the skier and the mountaineer. They dream of constructing villages upon its slopes and of constructing roads around it. In their 'land use' plans, civilisation intends to create a circus of this majestic mountain.

Grandfather's Warning

I remember visiting my aged Grandfather, in his shack in Atwam, California, way back in 1973. After a cup of bitter coffee from his stained mugs, my brother and I went outside to study the clear and perfect night sky. The early night was solemn. There was a hush, a quiet. Not even a coyote howled. Wind, still. Wild, silent.

With a gnarled hand, the 90-year-old man pointed to the full August moon and said, "Can you see the scars upon the face of the moon, the injured land? That is what my grandmother spoke of long ago. She said there was once a war. It was a big war between thinkings. It was between those people who did not care about life and did not care if the moon remained a dwelling place, and those others who wanted the moon to remain a good place to live. That war used up the moon. And when the moon caught fire, there wasn't even enough water to put it out. It was all used up. The moon burned. A huge fire cooked everything. Just everything."

Later, just before dawn, we stood again with Grandfather in the early chill; lok-mhe, the light just before the silver of dawn. He told us of his fears of how this Earth could be itamji-uw (all used up) if the people of all of the world do not correct their manner of wasting resources and amend their arrogant disregard for life itself. Thirty miles to the north, Akoo-Yet shivered white against the velvet dawn sky. We were surrounded by the immense silence of the flat land of Atwam, where the Pit River meanders towards the sea.

Our talk turned to Akoo-Yet. "The power that balances the universe, Mis Misa, dwells there," Grandfather said, nodding a white head in the direction of the shining mountain. We knew that we were about to hear another story, so old that time could not erode it and so real that only truth and understanding could recognise it.

An old coyote howled in a black canyon somewhere to the south. An owl glided nearby, wings whispering upon the darkness, huge eyes searching for slight movements in the sea of darkness. Over near the mountains there was a soft roaring sound of falling waters as the winds brushed the thousand pines. The perfume of sage moved all around us. A meteor streaked across the night sky, a white arrow -- vanished -- as if it were but a part of an imagination.

In our custom, one is not supposed to intrude into the silence created while someone who is telling a story hesitates to either search for proper words or to allow the listener time to comprehend. At this moment, however, I thought Grandfather should be aware of some plans for the most precious mountain of all of the mountains of his life. "Grandfather, did you know the white man wants to make buildings upon Akoo-Yet?"

After a deliberate silence, Grandfather's frozen posture relaxed. Then he said, "Can you say why the white man wants to make buildings there?"

Sometimes I explained things to him like he was a child. "It is for money and entertainment. They have a ski lift on the mountain now so the people who want to slide down the slopes don't have to climb up. They ride on a chair. The chairs are pulled to the highest point by huge cables. Now they want to make a town on the mountain -- a city."

There was another silence. Then, with the tired motions of an old grizzly bear, Grandfather said, "It must be time to tell the white people the story of Mis Misa." And he began to tell it.

The Story of Mis Misa

"When Quon (Silver-grey Fox), the power that created all that we know, and Jamol (the coyote power that still wants to change all that Quon has created) were through with making this land, it is said, the Great Power made a law, a rule. This 'law' Quon placed within Akoo-Yet. By doing this, Quon made Akoo-Yet the most powerful of all mountains. He gave the mountain a real job. My Grandmother told me of this 'law'. It is known as Mis Misa by our people. I have never heard it called anything else. It is a small thing. You cannot see it, but you can hear it singing -- if you listen carefully."

There was a long pause. We waited. Often much of the meaning of the message that our elders offer is in the quiet between sentences, sometimes it is just a hesitation. But this silence could last for an unbearably long time. It is certain, however, that when you are in the presence of the old ones and they feel it is time for them to continue, they simply proceed and you must not forget where they left off -- even if the story is continued a year later.

Breaking the silence, Grandfather continued, "We are told to be careful. Be careful while near this mountain. Always come to this mountain with a good heart. Mis Misa knows what you are thinking -- always think good thoughts. Listen. If you do not listen you will not hear the singing, and this is not respectful. It is like breaking a commandment of the white man's god. You could be punished. Your whole family could be punished -- even the children, the babies. That's what they say.

"The purpose of Mis Misa is but one: To balance the Earth with the universe and the universe with the Earth. When Quon created Earth and universe long ago, that power understood many things. Also that power knew that it could not make everything just right. That's a wise power. For this reason Quon made Mis Misa and put Mis Misa within the mountain. It lives there. You can hear it singing. Remember always this power. It balances the universe. It is a 'law

It was not many seasons later when Grandfather left us. His spirit had proceeded to its rendezvous with destiny. He was looking up into forever with clouded eyes. I longed to seek more answers from his wisdom, but he could not hear mortal beings now.

Once he showed us where he was going when he died. There was a small spot near the handle of the big dipper that appeared to be unoccupied. That was his destination. There is a glint there now.

Lessons from the Story

We look across the Earth today and see so much unnecessary destruction. Forests are being erased around the world. Rivers are sick and dying. The sky is grey over the huge cities. The air stinks. Pavement covers the meadows where flowers are supposed to grow. Mountains are moved and removed. Rivers are diverted and the water terribly polluted. Earth is being drilled into, and her heart and her guts and her blood are being used as private property for private gain.

There is an immense vacuum where the spiritual connection between human beings and Nature is supposed to be -- that umbilical cord that we inherited long before our birth, and we were instructed to nurture and to protect for all of the existence of our nations. It seems as though too many people think that Nature is an element that they're not a part of. They, like the old Coyote, think that Nature, life, must be tamed, must be challenged, must be conquered, must be changed, in order to make it better.

History has unveiled many battles and many wars. In this era, we can look back through the pages of time like changing channels on the TV. Yes, there have been some terrible wars. Yes, there has been much destruction. Yes, some wars ha engaged the entire world. But those conflicts were over hum supremacy -- which king or which governing entity would rule the masses and control the bounty of Earth. Who would be the master over all of the people and who would control the wealth. Whose gnarled dreams would be unleashed at which time history to make an indelible mark urged through vanity.

In these conflicts Mother Earth was treated as a now slave. She had to yield the materials that were needed to continue the conflagration. She had to yield the waters for the thirsty battalions. She had to yield fruit and food to feed t armies that marched. She had to provide the medicine to he the wounded. She had to provide the bounty that was the crow for the victor.

These are new times. The whole Earth is now threatened with extinction. No longer is it acceptable for human beings contend for the supreme pinnacle of the various societies of Earth; from this moment forward there must be a battle, there must be an intense war -- but this time for the salvaging c Earth itself. This time to see whether or not there will be only a 'moon' left here one day after all of the products are used up after the balance of existence has turned for the worse, an after vanity has led us down a time-path that has an absolute expiry date.

Yes, Grandfather's story was only an old Indian story. But it was a story that has endured, and maintains its direction and it solemn concern. There is a moon -- there is also Mis Misa. No once have I encountered a reference to the symbolic power within that sacred mountain from the 'constructionists' an 'progressives' who plot the future of Akoo-Yet. The 'constructionists' see Akoo-Yet as a piece of valuable real estate. They fail to see its sacred value. For how many more seasons car these mistakes find pardon within Nature?

My thoughts lead me to walk among the stars every morning during the silver just before dawn, lok-mhe. Ringing in my ears are the worried words of Grandfather: "When I was a child long ago, my Grandmother said there was a war. It was a big war between the people -- a war between thinkings. A terrible war. That war used up the moon. When the moon caught fire there wasn't enough water to put it out. It was all used up."

I look up at the moon, and I worry. I look down at the Earth and see the corporate entities exercising greed and profit as their reasons for their existence. I see children crying and hungry all around the world. I see the land of my Grandmother and Grandfather being used up.

Yes, there is a callousness in the manner that people have abused the world. Yes, environmentally-orientated people must oppose that irresponsibility. Yes, children have a right to live in respect and harmony. Yes, Grandmothers and Grandfathers have an absolute right to peace and protection. Yes, we, the able and capable, have an absolute duty to defend our loved ones in their journey through life.

Yes, there will be a terrible and great 'war' again. There must be; for the silver of dawn, first light, belongs to us all, equally. We must not deny its panorama to anybody -- especially those we are, by our spirit, bound to protect forever. We should not fear. Besides the dawn of day and the strength of the power that turns Earth around the Sun, we have Mis Misa.

Darryl Wilson, a member of the A-juma and Atsuge tribes, commonly called the Pit River Nation, is a poet and storyteller. He is currently a student at UC Davis, California.

First published in News from California. This edited version is reproduced with kind permission of the publisher.

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