Searching for Dr. Emoto: A Mt. Shasta Diary

For several months now, I’d been feeling the urge to return to Northern California’s Mt. Shasta region for something resembling a spiritual recharge. Upon learning that my Divine Partner, Fay, was going to be visiting my son’s and my Bay Area home, I suggested, and she agreed, that we might consider making the five hour trek north to the southernmost edge of the Cascade Range?

Timing had to be right, however. My companion wasn’t wholly comfortable with camping; nor was she prepared to backpack carrying heavy loads to remote backcountry sites. Considering our options, I wrote two Mt. Shasta friends who cheerfully agreed to host our brief stay.

Before departing, however, I also sought to coordinate our trip with two other Mt. Shasta denizens whom I’d met several years before on the mountain above. One of them wrote back suggesting that we meet at nearby Castle Lake, Panther Meadows, and at Mt. Shasta’s City Park, where renown Japanese scientist Masaru Emoto was scheduled to “bless the waters” while receiving an unprecedented mayoral “Key to Mt. Shasta City.”

For those unfamiliar with Dr. Emoto’s work, for years, this unconventional scientist has been documenting the imprinting capabilities of water. Through photography, this Doctor of Alternative Medicine has recorded how thoughts, feelings and music imprint upon identical water molecules.

By speaking loving works to water, brilliant hexagonal, symmetrical snowflake patterns appear. In contrast, exposing the same water to negative thought forms or pollution causes the molecules to form dull, asymmetrical and incomplete patterns.

Emoto’s imaginative empirical research shows how our attitudes, thoughts, beliefs and emotions deeply affect Nature around us. Since water comprises about seventy-two percent of our bodies and the planet as a whole, a vibrant Earth reflects vibrant human health, and vice versa.

Over the years, Emoto has concluded that evolution within Nature builds upon a sacred hexagonal energetic structure. He has also come to believe that anything that falls short of this basic hexagonal signature is at odds with the Laws of Nature, as it carries a destructive charge or vibration.

Buoyed by meeting this highly imaginative researcher, and decades deep in my own ecological writing about water and its myriad inhabitants, Fay and I arranged our Shasta adventure to coincide with his several publically-scheduled appearances. Arriving in the scorching summer heat, we made a bee line for the city’s much beloved park where, paradoxically sandwiched between freeway and railroad corridors, water from nearby Mt. Shasta literally gushes forth from a steep hillside.

Over lunch, we dangled our feet in the refreshingly cold, clear waters while watching a plethora of humanity gather to refresh themselves and their flagging freshwater supplies. Of particular note was a 30s-ish Indian woman dressed in full buckskin. She danced and sang as she approached the spring waters, sprinkling offerings of water in return. After giving prayers and gifts, she eventually settled in with her two female companions. They drank their fill, replenished their containers, and quietly retreated to what lay ahead in their path.

After refilling our own water containers, it was time for us to meet my friends in town. Arriving at their home, Jeffrey bid us a warm welcome, ushering Fay and me into his well shaded backyard. Before showing us to our bedroom, however, he offered us Mt. Shasta waters that had been treated by a streamlined-looking device that both purified and recalibrated the water’s PH to something slightly alkaline

Later that same afternoon, he suggested that we beat the unusually intense heat and head up Mt. Shasta. Jeffrey recommended that we drive up to Panther Meadows, just below the access road’s summit.

Meeting an Indian Goddess at Panther Meadows

Arriving at about 7,000 feet elevation, we donned our boots, baseball caps and sunscreen, and converged on the site of the popular Panther Meadows spring that, like its much larger Mt. Shasta City Park watercourse, mysteriously erupts from the mountain above.

With Jeffrey in the lead, and carefully traversing over beautifully random appearing volcanic stone, we set a path that could not easily be retraced. After searching out several sites, our initially puzzled host eventually walked us over to a nondescript appearing site that, it turns out, is used during sacred Indian ceremonies to house a Medicine Wheel.

Each of us respectfully surrounded—then tasted—the portal’s energetic field. I soon sought permission to enter the vortex. Upon being welcomed in, I walked to the site’s virtual center. Initially, I sat in something resembling lotus position. Next, I was called to lie down on that very spot.

While meditating, I felt an invitation being extended to journey. I knew to ask the site’s guardians for their blessings and sacred permission to do so. Upon hearing “Yes,” I asked my two companions if they were each up to journeying with me to wherever we were being invited to go? “Yes,” they smiled, responding in reply.

The three of us became as comfortable as possible by sitting in semi-Lotus position and touching one another’s knees and hands. Next, I dropped us into a conscious trance where we journeyed to a place beyond time and space. Upon arriving, Jeffrey experienced us being in an ancient, arid Indian landscape that consisted of stone and earth. What impressed him most was its utterly timeless and familiar quality.

Parenthetically, while in a conscious trance, it is difficult to know—much less to recall—what one experiences? Everyone’s energetic gifts are uniquely different, and by journeying collectively, we become capable of piggybacking upon one another’s strengths to assemble a profile of where we’ve been, what we’ve experienced and whom we’ve met? Without surprise, our combined visual, kinesthetic, clairaudient and feeling capabilities served us well with what was about to unfold.

Upon returning to this ancient Indian land, I asked our guides to assist us. Fox showed up right away to lead the way. Soon thereafter, s/he brought us to a middle-aged or older, buckskin-clad Indian woman who sat cross-legged, patiently awaiting our arrival. Fay described her as being sensitive and pretty, and she wore long, jet black hair.

The goddess sought our permission to join us in sacred circle. I both experienced her presence kinesthetically, and felt her energy. It was then that I recognized her as a shapeshifted version of the very woman we’d watched earlier that afternoon bless the waters of Mt. Shasta City’s park.

It is difficult to capture what we collectively experienced and saw. The Indian woman took us into a sacred geometrical landscape in which kaleidoscopic stars and flowers morphed into one another along a certain central axis.

I experienced wave upon wave of kinesthetic energies landing and coursing through me. For many years now, following a spontaneous Kundalini initiation, I’ve experienced “kryia” or intense movements of the “shakti” that can manifest itself through movement of the body, mind or spirit.

In my particular instance, when too great an amperage of energetic current starts flowing up and down my spine, my head begins to toggle from left to right, and then from front to back. These spontaneous movements erupt when the metaphorical equivalent of a thousands amps are being forced through something like a 110 volt circuit. Under such conditions, something has to give and it’s often the body, which remains our most concrete bridge between Spirit and Matter.

Unsurprisingly, as I began rocking and rolling, many other experiences were to land. I experienced us dropping into an interior world, resembling Middle Earth, where Fay saw vivid bright lights that were more color than form. She was also visited by an animated caricature of a mouse, only this deceptively plain mouse morphed into something resembling a cartoon character for it possessed a black ball for a nose that lay atop a cone. She watched as the mouse subsequently morphed into many other animals that came to include goat, wolf and lion, among other animal allies.

Perhaps the most vivid experience hinged upon the taxing chasm that separated our experience of being embodied while simultaneously doing such deep inter-dimensional journeying. For instance, while dropped into a conscious trance, the flies and mosquitoes began playing tic-tat-tow on our bodies. Jeffrey remarked that the worsening insect conditions were fast veering toward becoming intolerable. I opened conversation with Pan and the Deva of flying insects to request that we be spared from being served up at a Third Dimensional banquet. But just as things began to improve on the outside, conditions began to intensify internally.

Jeffrey remarked, somewhere well into our journey, that his left leg felt “dead as a doornail.” By that he explained that it hadn’t just gone to sleep, but rather that it was simply gone. Kaput. Vacated. He demonstrated by trying to lift it up and then letting it go; the leg just fell lifelessly to the ground. Next Fay chimed in that her left leg was also pretty much gone and in the same surprisingly bloodless, numbing manner.

Meanwhile my right leg, too, was without feeling and apparent circulation. It too had been evacuated of any feeling whatsoever. I couldn’t have shifted nor lifted it with all the intension in the world. In that instant, energetically speaking, my leg neither belonged to a conscious “me” nor to anyone else, for that matter.

That’s when the fun really began. I realized that we had to shift our hand positions and that we needed to crisscross holding one another’s hands as we leaned outward, as though from the spinning axis of a merry-go-round. Leaning backward, with crossed arms extended, one leg each being essentially incapacitated, we next began experiencing intense pressure.

It felt as though we were in a massive decompression chamber; something that you might experience as your body emerged from having scuba dove to great depths before resurfacing. This inter-dimensional pressure cooker gave us massive headaches and my body felt taxed as it never had been before. We were clearly being invited to shed layer-upon-layer of what no longer served.

At some point it was time to return to Panther Meadows again. We said thanks to our guardians and guides and took the patient, consciousness elevator upwards, back to being fully alert and embodied. As the entrainment receded from view, the enormity of our journey and its stress on our bodies became ever more apparent.

What we had accomplished may be unclear but the enormity of its impact on our bodies was self-evident. In the lengthening shadows of evening light, our task became that of standing upright again and shaking off something resembling the energetic bends. Reflecting back upon it now, the journey still feels remarkable.
Before departing, we thanked the portal for its gifts, respectfully swept the ground with a dry tree branch, and bowed before its sacred power. We walked down to the spring, this time enjoying the coolness of its waters and the blessings that accompanied quenching our thirst.

Panther Meadow was studded with every conceivable wildflower from reddish-orange Indian paintbrush to purplish-blue penstamen. In the evening light, the mountain framed the meadow with its quiet, imposing presence and alpenglow. Home again, we made our way back to the mountain’s base, where ravenous, we sought certain bodily satisfaction in food and a tall micro-brew.

Still later that evening, close to midnight, Fay and I decided to drive to the top of the mountain. On the edge of town, a lone fox ran across the road and stopped to watch; as though to remind us of our recent journey. Arriving near the summit of the mountain, a billion stars became visibly present, including what I took to be a vividly illuminated Federation spacecraft in asynchronous orbit. We laid out our blanket and thanked shooting stars, one by one, for the day’s bounty and Divine messages.

Meeting Goddess Sabrina of Castle Lake

The next morning Fay and I needed something resembling a jumpstart to be capable of reaching our next destination. Dr. Emoto was schedule to do a blessing that morning of the waters of Castle Lake, one of my best loved regional haunts. I’d arranged to meet my Shasta friends Sherry and Kealey there to join in the festivities. We’d be certain to double our fun together.

We arrived at the parking lot and there was a great deal of commotion as one group or another assembled for various activities. A gaggle of young people gathered at the trailhead that funneled hikers toward several interior lakes. I observed other participants executing difficult yogic handstands on the rock-solid parking lot pavement. There was a playful, circus-like atmosphere to the hubbub.

Yet, looking around, we couldn’t, for the life of us, find Dr. Emoto nor his entourage. Nor were we alone. Several others were also wandering to and fro, searching for the well publicized water blessing. After a while we began asking around and eventually learned that his publicly-scheduled water blessing had purportedly been shifted to the northerly site of Stewart Hot Springs. Puzzled by the sudden cancellation, our friends Sherry and Kealey soon arrived and we shared the news. “We’ll just have to do our own water blessing!” Sherry admonished, and off we went.

Having been a frequent visitor to Castle Lake, we took a trail that shunted us around one side of the lake. Several years earlier, I’d joined two other friends to make the same hike, where we’d met the lake’s Celtic-appearing Goddess “Sabrina,” together with its Guardian of Wisdom, the “Red Dragon.” Sabrina is a powerful goddess who responds to Divine Feminine energies while the Red Dragon guards a portal into the fifth dimensional underground Lemurian city know as Telos.

Upon reaching a certain part of the lake, I left the trail for a lakeside vantage point and sought Sabrina’s permission for us to enter her sacred garden. As soon as I anchored my hands in prayer position, the wind came up and Sabrina responded lovingly to my request. After offering prayers, and thanking her for her presence and gifts, we entered her sacred garden.

At this point the going became rough, however, as the trail steeply fell away to the lake below. Some of us clung to azalea bushes above as we sought to navigate the steep, uneven terrain underfoot. Eventually, we came to a place where a spring trickled from the azalea-strewn slopes, while below us large clusters of venus fly traps stood near water’s edge, the only ones that I’ve ever seen growing in the wild.

We spoke with Sabrina for some time, and she shared deep insights and energetic gifts. Then, we retreated to a nearby beach where the four of us entered the brilliant waters of Castle Lake. Astonishingly, the lake’s waters were warm and inviting. Three of us swam and visited with one another while Kealey closed in on the fixed raft at lake’s center. The weather was warm and beautiful and osprey lazily soared overhead. All in all it was a remarkably enjoyable morning and we eventually made our way back into town for what lay next in our path.

Blessing the Waters of Mt. Shasta Park

The next morning Jeffrey, Fay and I arrived for Dr. Emoto’s blessing of the waters at Mt. Shasta Park. The funny thing is that, less our friends Sherry and Kealey and several other itinerants, no one else did. Something else was up: but what?

We eventually walked up to the Park Superintendent’s office and learned that all the publicly-scheduled water blessings had been cancelled. One story held that those organizing the events had neglected to inform Indian elders about the pending Emoto visit, angering some. Others held that the proposed blessing of waters at Panther Meadows had raised red flags among US Forest Service personnel entrusted with protecting the fragile meadow.

Whatever the specific reasons, we also learned that we could attend a paid blessing of the water at Mt. Shasta Resort, but nowhere else. However lovely the resort is, somehow blessing a golf course seemed off par to this incarnated Lemurian Earth Angel. We took a pass on attending that event.

After speaking with the Park Superintendent, the four of us walked downhill to the spring, Sherry called in a sacred circle and once again, we began doing our own sacred blessing of the waters. It included an admixture of journeying, story-telling, offering prayers in Sanskrit, and heaps of praise and gratitude. The prayer Kealey recited was the Medicine Buddha Mantra, one of the most powerful transformational prayers ever conceived: “NAMO BHAGAVATE BHAISAJAYA-GURU-VAIDURYA-PRABHA-RAJAYA TATHAGATAYA ARHATE SAMYAKSAMBUDDHAYA TADYATHA OM BHAISAJYE BHAISAJYE BHAISAJYA SAMUDGATE SVAHA.” After it was over, we bid one another farewell and Fay, Jeffrey and I stepped into our next adventures.

Visiting Mt. Shasta’s “Squaw Meadows”

Later that day Fay and I drove as far up the mountain as we could, parked the car at a trailhead, and headed in a southerly direction on a steep trail. We packed up our back pack—including about fifteen pounds of Lemurian and other crystals—and off we went. It was hot on the mountain; as hot as I’d ever experienced.

We passed ridgelines and Hummingbird Meadows, lingering snowfields, alpine wildflowers and meandering springs, ancient spruce and a whole lot more, en route to the magical landscape known to some by the politically incorrect name of “Squaw Meadows.”

En route we met a lovely, middle-aged woman enjoying a quiet lunch amidst spruce trees, by running water. She asked us about what lay ahead? I recommended that she take the next beautiful meadow upwards toward the tree line.

I’d first been to the meadows six years earlier when, together with twelve others, we’d camped and journeyed to support the opening of an intergalactic star gate. Today we were simply visiting to taste and bless the waters, the wildflowers and the myriad spruce who anchored mountainous energies near tree line.

She thanked me and we continued on until we landed at the wildflower-strewn meadow. I pulled out my accompanying crystals, took off my shoes, and began gratefully merging with and praying over the cascading waters.

It was deliciously beautiful underfoot, while overhead, thunder cells lightly cooled us with gently falling rain. Meanwhile winds blew through the almost purple, stone-clad, volcanically-sculpted landscape.

We eventually retreated to a large boulder that was adjacent to where friends and I had once camped. We watched as the lone woman that we’d met on the trail made her way uphill through the meadow. Soon thereafter, I realized that she might want to receive an energetic transmission from each of my three Lemurian crystals; but when and where? Following lunch and a deliciously-earned alpine nap, we bid adieu to this sacred landscape and began retracing our steps home.

En route to the car, we briefly overtook the same woman on the trail. Upon asking us a question about taking the upper versus lower trails, I urged her to take the uphill grade, saying that, should the timing work out, we’d be delighted to give her a ride back down to her Panther Meadows campsite.

She thanked us and merrily headed off along her way. Eventually we caught up with her again at Hummingbird Meadows, but not before Fay had been selected by two beautiful Shasta stones. Upon overtaking the mysterious hiker, I shared that my three crystals might bear energetic gifts for her. Would she like to meet them? “Yes,” she said. Unsurprisingly, she also shared that, before we’d arrived, she’d been conversing with angels.

After receiving whatever energetic downloads ensued, the three of us cheerfully hiked on toward the trailhead. At one point, still some distance from our car, I spied an almost iridescent purple stone sitting atop a much larger rock. I left the trail and walked over to the stone. I knew that it was a gift; but for whom?
Upon asking, I learned that it was intended for our angelic companion who, we’d learned, lovingly conducts research on behalf of whales. Upon giving it to her, she reached into her backpack and began fumbling around for what would prove to be a silken piece of petrified wood. She and her husband had found and polished it near their home on the Oregon Coast. She remarked that, for about a week now, it had been clamoring for a new home? “Was I the intended recipient?” Feeling into it, I gratefully responded: “Yes, I am. Thank you.”
Arriving at the trailhead, we packed up the car and began our descent down the mountain, stopping along the way to drop off our newfound friend at her Panther Meadows campground. We waved goodbye, and upon arriving back in Mt. Shasta, discovered Jeffrey juggling work responsibilities with those required to pack up the car for a pending camping trip.

In retrospect, we never crossed paths with Dr. Masaru Emoto. We did, however, once meet a small group of Japanese-speaking pilgrims on their way to the Panther Meadows spring.

Sometimes in life you’ve just got to trust that you’re at the right place, at the right time, and focusing one’s intension on behalf of the Divine. Our journey didn’t disappoint as wherever we went, the waters of Mt. Shasta both blessed and purified us as we praised water’s glory. Perhaps, like the relationship between butterflies and universes, this next time around, we’ll forget Dr. Emoto as he shifts his plans in search of us?