By Jonathan Merritt
Driving down from Portland in late March to the spring pilgrimage camp, I saw how California had withered in its three year drought. The north part of Shasta Lake, the largest reservoir in California, was only a narrow river. After the driest year on record, it was 120 feet below normal levels. As I drove across the north bank of San Francisco Bay, the reeds of the wetlands were gone and the bushes and grasses were grey and brown tinder. The stream that runs through camp was silent, nearly still.
The forecast for our ten days was for two days of light rain, then warm and sunny—great for camping, but terrible for the devastated land.It was a small camp, only eleven people. We unloaded the truck, set up the canopies, pitched our tents and lit the fires. There was a public audience with Grandfather Fire the second night. About twenty people showed up.
After Grandfather Fire came in, the first question was about the drought. Grandfather told a story of the Miwok, the local native people renowned for their peacefulness. He talked about how, despite the rich abundance of the land, they became greedy and began fighting over hunting and fishing grounds, over the stands of black oak that provided acorns vital to their sustenance. They turned their hunting arrows and fishing spears into weapons and the clans warred against each other. In their fighting, they forgot the ceremonies that honor the spirits of the land. The weather beings, the sacred mountains, the spirits of the forests, rivers and springs were displeased. Great Grandmother Ocean became angry. The gods began withholding the blessing of rain.
At first, the dry sunny weather only increased their fighting. But, eventually, the people began to suffer. And, finally, the black oak withheld its bounty of acorns, the root crops and berries withered and the salmon could not run up the dried streams. The people began to starve. Something needed to change. The medicine people from the various clans gathered in a great council on the sacred island we call Alcatraz. They agreed that the only option was to make peace, to renew the ceremonies, to beg the gods for rain. In every village, the sacred fires were lit and the offerings given. And the gods saw that the people had changed. The blessed rains returned, peace and abundance again reigned over the land.
As a follow up, someone asked what our people could do to break the drought. Grandfather spoke about how, though we are not warring against each other, we live in a time of great separation and fear, how that fear leads to greed and greed leads to taking ever more and more. He spoke of the hubris of those who had amassed great wealth, how they imagined that their cleverness, their innate superiority had enriched them and not the natural prosperity of the land. He spoke of how the common people suffered, but lacking guidance and perspective, they could only engage in separation and fear.
The solution, Grandfather said, is very simple. The people need to look up to the sky and begin to recognize the livingness of that great sacred being and the livingness of the passing clouds, to look at the divine livingness of the mountains, the forests and streams, to look out at the vast ocean, the source of all weather. And, when they see that livingness, to let go of their fear and to ask with open hearts for the blessing of rain. The gods are waiting, he said. They will respond.
We continued the camp, keeping the fires, making offerings, practicing our songs and prayers, journeying to the sacred places, enjoying the fellowship of pilgrims and the opportunity to engage with the divine. It rained every day, sometimes torrentially with strong winds. On the night before we made the pilgrimage to Grandmother Ocean, Grandfather Fire returned. He said that the rains had returned in response to our pilgrimage, to the kept fires, the prayers and songs, the attention paid to the Divine. Listen to the stream, He said. It is singing again. Do you see how simple it is? The gods are waiting. They will respond.
Leaving camp, I drove across the bay and saw that the wetlands were full, that while the brown and grey was still there, there was, beneath it, the vibrant green of new growth. At home, I read that the water level of Shasta Lake had risen twenty-two feet. I feel humbled and so grateful that this great blessing was brought to the land.
When we come to the fire, we engage the sacredness of the living world in a simple, but very direct way. Bring your concerns and prayers, your laughter and songs. By offering them at the fire, we open the doors to connection which are the antidote to the separation and fear that is destroying our world. There are no technological solutions. The gods are waiting. They will respond.
Jonathan Merritt is a marakame, an initiated traditional healer in the lineage of the Huichol people of Mexico. The founding editor, and a contributing editor for Sacred Fire magazine, Jonathan keeps a Sacred Fire Community fire in Portland, Oregon.
Read Jonathan’s previous article “Sitting in Audience with Grandfather Fire.”
Discover more about the appearance of Grandfather Fire in human form.
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What does this article bring up for you? Please share your heart by commenting on this post below.
So beautiful and true! Thank you, Jonathan.
Jonathan,
What a precious article. Thank you so much for sharing with your poetic articulation Grandfather’s stories and the experience of effectiveness of kept fires, pilgrimages, people’s prayers and songs. What an affirmation for our work!
Love, Sherry
Thank you Jonathan for sharing your experiences.
I grew up in Northern California when the waters were plentiful, so much so that every winter brought flooding. During the late 50’s, it was determined that the State would see to building dams in the North to hold the excess waters. Then there would be a large canal system going south along the west side of the San Jouquin Valley to take the excess water to Southern California agriculture. No one could have been able to predict the growth of the State over the last 60 years. No one gave any thought to conservation. No one paid any attention to the history of weather patterns. Now we have the hoarding of water rights.
Every 2-3 years, my husband and I drive to California to visit my family. We have been shocked each time we drive the bridges than span Lake Shasta. History has a way of repeating itself, aka Grandfather telling of the Miwok. As a society, we had better get our priorities in order.
Wow,
I came to tears when I heard the reservoir had risen 22 feet…
Shelley
Beautiful article brother….
Jonathan, I am so grateful that you shared this wisdom, so simple and so powerful. I am going to pass it along. As a weather worker, I know this is true and I hope the people of California can learn this somehow.
Love,
Nancy
many thanks for your great work jonathan.
moved me to the core
in a place of no words
and of sacred memories.
beyond time
where the Fire
burns day and night.
where the birds and Sun
wake us in the dawn of another day.
where we breathe
the Sky’s breath
as free human beings.
Blessed you!
I am in big tears for what you mention.
Even though I keep my prayers ,even though I am looking at the clous in love,right now & everyday they are arround,even though,enven though…. It is not enough! it is never enough gratitude,nor connection for all the LoVE & Blessings there are all-ways for all.
I feel the breaking in my chest the pain of longing.
Now I will go to bang my drum loud to shout my heart out in gratitude for me for you for all.
thank you my dear brother for keeping me awake,or for awakening me again today.
with deep gratitude,Blanca Aurora.