Sacred Mountain of Magic and Mystery
AND A NATURE LOVER'S PARADISE
When I first caught sight of Mount Shasta over the braided folds of the Sacramento Valley I was fifty miles away and afoot, alone and weary. Yet all my blood turned to wine, and I have not been weary since. - John Muir, 1874
Mount Shasta, or Waiika as one group of natives originally called it, has been a destination for both outdoor enthusiasts and spiritual seekers alike for decades. This potentially active volcano sits at 14,179 feet above sea level is the second highest in the Cascade Range (Mount Rainier, 14,411') and fifth highest in the state.
The mountain has always been vastly important to the natives here, believing it to be the sacred center of the universe. They also have stories of it being home of the creator. The Wintu tribe has held ceremonies on the mountain since time immemorial and they continue to do them there to this day.
At the time of the first of Euro-Americans with Native Americans in 1820 Mount Shasta was a prominent landmark along the "Siskiyou Trail," originally used by natives as an ancient trade and travel route; later to be used by miners seeking fortunes in gold. Mount Shasta was first summited by a Euro-American (Elias Pearce) in 1854 and, in 1856, the first women (Harriette Eddy and Mary McCloud). It remains a hugely popular destination for outdoor adventurers and nature lovers. Always sacred to the natives, the mountain began attracting spiritual seekers in the early 1900s.
In 1930 a businessman by the name of Guy Ballard was hiking on the mountain when he encountered a mysterious figure who introduced himself as an "ascended master." Having lived several lifetimes on the planet and eventually mastering the physical plane, it is said that ascended masters no longer have to come back for the birth/death cycle. As Ballard would later write, this being passed on his wisdom and teachings and took him on a cosmic journey through space and time. Ballard began the "I AM" movement which, at the height of its popularity, had over one million followers. The I AM Activity is still active here in town.
Then there is the City of Telos. Some believe Telos to be a crystal city deep inside the mountain which is inhabited by higher dimensional beings called "Lemurians." Legend holds that Lemuria was an ancient continent in the north Pacific thousands of years ago. When the Lemurian continent fell the highly advanced beings fled into Mount Shasta where they purportedly live to this day. Some people also believe the mysterious lenticular clouds that the mountain has become known for disguise alien crafts as they come and go.
The mountain has always been vastly important to the natives here, believing it to be the sacred center of the universe. They also have stories of it being home of the creator. The Wintu tribe has held ceremonies on the mountain since time immemorial and they continue to do them there to this day.
At the time of the first of Euro-Americans with Native Americans in 1820 Mount Shasta was a prominent landmark along the "Siskiyou Trail," originally used by natives as an ancient trade and travel route; later to be used by miners seeking fortunes in gold. Mount Shasta was first summited by a Euro-American (Elias Pearce) in 1854 and, in 1856, the first women (Harriette Eddy and Mary McCloud). It remains a hugely popular destination for outdoor adventurers and nature lovers. Always sacred to the natives, the mountain began attracting spiritual seekers in the early 1900s.
In 1930 a businessman by the name of Guy Ballard was hiking on the mountain when he encountered a mysterious figure who introduced himself as an "ascended master." Having lived several lifetimes on the planet and eventually mastering the physical plane, it is said that ascended masters no longer have to come back for the birth/death cycle. As Ballard would later write, this being passed on his wisdom and teachings and took him on a cosmic journey through space and time. Ballard began the "I AM" movement which, at the height of its popularity, had over one million followers. The I AM Activity is still active here in town.
Then there is the City of Telos. Some believe Telos to be a crystal city deep inside the mountain which is inhabited by higher dimensional beings called "Lemurians." Legend holds that Lemuria was an ancient continent in the north Pacific thousands of years ago. When the Lemurian continent fell the highly advanced beings fled into Mount Shasta where they purportedly live to this day. Some people also believe the mysterious lenticular clouds that the mountain has become known for disguise alien crafts as they come and go.
Mount Shasta has been shrouded in myth and legend for millennia. Whether it's outdoor adventures, spiritual seeking, or pure relaxation that brings you here, there is always something for everyone.
Mount Shasta • A Poem by John Rollin Ridge
1827-1867
Behold the dread Mt. Shasta, where it stands
Imperial midst the lesser heights, and, like
Some mighty unimpassioned mind, companionless
And cold. The storms of Heaven may beat in wrath
Against it, but it stands in unpolluted
Grandeur still; and from the rolling mists upheaves
Its tower of pride e’en purer than before.
The wintry showers and white-winged tempests leave
Their frozen tributes on its brow, and it
Doth make of them an everlasting crown.
Thus doth it, day by day and age by age,
Defy each stroke of time: still rising highest
Into Heaven!
Aspiring to the eagle’s cloudless height,
No human foot has stained its snowy side;
No human breath has dimmed the icy mirror which
It holds unto the moon and stars and sov’reign sun.
We may not grow familiar with the secrets
Of its hoary top, whereon the Genius
Of that mountain builds his glorious throne!
Far lifted in the boundless blue, he doth
Encircle, with his gaze supreme, the broad
Dominions of the West, which lie beneath
His feet, in pictures of sublime repose
No artist ever drew. He sees the tall
Gigantic hills arise in silentness
And peace, and in the long review of distance
Range themselves in order grand. He sees the sunlight
Play upon the golden streams which through the valleys
Glide. He hears the music of the great and solemn sea,
And overlooks the huge old western wall
To view the birth-place of undying Melody!
Itself all light, save when some loftiest cloud
Doth for a while embrace its cold forbidding
Form, that monarch mountain casts its mighty
Shadow down upon the crownless peaks below,
That, like inferior minds to some great
Spirit, stand in strong contrasted littleness!
All through the long and Summery months of our
Most tranquil year, it points its icy shaft
On high, to catch the dazzling beams that fall
In showers of splendor round that crystal cone,
And roll in floods of far magnificence
Away from that lone, vast Reflector in
The dome of Heaven.
Still watchful of the fertile
Vale and undulating plains below, the grass
Grows greener in its shade, and sweeter bloom
The flowers. Strong purifier! From its snowy
Side the breezes cool are wafted to the “peaceful
Homes of men,” who shelter at its feet, and love
To gaze upon its honored form, aye standing
There the guarantee of health and happiness.
Well might it win communities so blest
To loftier feelings and to nobler thoughts--
The great material symbol of eternal
Things! And well I ween, in after years, how
In the middle of his furrowed track the plowman
In some sultry hour will pause, and wiping
From his brow the dusty sweat, with reverence
Gaze upon that hoary peak. The herdsman
Oft will rein his charger in the plain, and drink
Into his inmost soul the calm sublimity;
And little children, playing on the green, shall
Cease their sport, and, turning to that mountain
Old, shall of their mother ask: “Who made it?”
And she shall answer,—“GOD!”
And well this Golden State shall thrive, if like
Its own Mt. Shasta, Sovereign Law shall lift
Itself in purer atmosphere—so high
That human feeling, human passion at its base
Shall lie subdued; e’en pity’s tears shall on
Its summit freeze; to warm it e’en the sunlight
Of deep sympathy shall fail:
Its pure administration shall be like
The snow immaculate upon that mountain’s brow!
Imperial midst the lesser heights, and, like
Some mighty unimpassioned mind, companionless
And cold. The storms of Heaven may beat in wrath
Against it, but it stands in unpolluted
Grandeur still; and from the rolling mists upheaves
Its tower of pride e’en purer than before.
The wintry showers and white-winged tempests leave
Their frozen tributes on its brow, and it
Doth make of them an everlasting crown.
Thus doth it, day by day and age by age,
Defy each stroke of time: still rising highest
Into Heaven!
Aspiring to the eagle’s cloudless height,
No human foot has stained its snowy side;
No human breath has dimmed the icy mirror which
It holds unto the moon and stars and sov’reign sun.
We may not grow familiar with the secrets
Of its hoary top, whereon the Genius
Of that mountain builds his glorious throne!
Far lifted in the boundless blue, he doth
Encircle, with his gaze supreme, the broad
Dominions of the West, which lie beneath
His feet, in pictures of sublime repose
No artist ever drew. He sees the tall
Gigantic hills arise in silentness
And peace, and in the long review of distance
Range themselves in order grand. He sees the sunlight
Play upon the golden streams which through the valleys
Glide. He hears the music of the great and solemn sea,
And overlooks the huge old western wall
To view the birth-place of undying Melody!
Itself all light, save when some loftiest cloud
Doth for a while embrace its cold forbidding
Form, that monarch mountain casts its mighty
Shadow down upon the crownless peaks below,
That, like inferior minds to some great
Spirit, stand in strong contrasted littleness!
All through the long and Summery months of our
Most tranquil year, it points its icy shaft
On high, to catch the dazzling beams that fall
In showers of splendor round that crystal cone,
And roll in floods of far magnificence
Away from that lone, vast Reflector in
The dome of Heaven.
Still watchful of the fertile
Vale and undulating plains below, the grass
Grows greener in its shade, and sweeter bloom
The flowers. Strong purifier! From its snowy
Side the breezes cool are wafted to the “peaceful
Homes of men,” who shelter at its feet, and love
To gaze upon its honored form, aye standing
There the guarantee of health and happiness.
Well might it win communities so blest
To loftier feelings and to nobler thoughts--
The great material symbol of eternal
Things! And well I ween, in after years, how
In the middle of his furrowed track the plowman
In some sultry hour will pause, and wiping
From his brow the dusty sweat, with reverence
Gaze upon that hoary peak. The herdsman
Oft will rein his charger in the plain, and drink
Into his inmost soul the calm sublimity;
And little children, playing on the green, shall
Cease their sport, and, turning to that mountain
Old, shall of their mother ask: “Who made it?”
And she shall answer,—“GOD!”
And well this Golden State shall thrive, if like
Its own Mt. Shasta, Sovereign Law shall lift
Itself in purer atmosphere—so high
That human feeling, human passion at its base
Shall lie subdued; e’en pity’s tears shall on
Its summit freeze; to warm it e’en the sunlight
Of deep sympathy shall fail:
Its pure administration shall be like
The snow immaculate upon that mountain’s brow!
