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Three Mount Shasta mysteries.

The Mystery of Mt. Shasta

Originally included as part of the the BSRA Round Robin (Vol. 3, No. 7, Sept.-Oct. 1947); Article by Edward Lenser, with opening and closing remarks (and footnotes) by Meade Layne.

The following article appeared in the Los Angeles Times Sunday Magazine of May 22, 1932, and has since been quoted in part, in many publications. Its interest however is perennial end the mystery still unsolved. For the sections quoted, RR is indebted to Miss Ella Young, of Oceano, Calif., a well-known writer and poet.

The author of the article is Mr. Edward Lenser. He tells us that one morning, while en route to Portland on the Shasta Limited, he went out on the observation platform to see the sunrise, and was looking at Mt. Shasta.

“Gazing upon its splendor, I suddenly perceived that the whole southern side of the mountain was ablaze with a strange reddish-green light – a flame that grew faint, then flared up with renewed brilliance. My first conjecture was a forest fire, but the absence of smoke discounted that theory. The light resembled the glow of Roman candles… The thing intrigued me, and when I met my travelling companion at breakfast, he asked me if I had seen the forest fire on Mt. Shasta.”

“Did you see smoke?” was my question.

“No,” he replied. “Just a red glow.”

Convinced that I had not been the victim of a mirage, I later asked the conductor about the mysterious pyrotechnics. His answer was short but enticing:

“Lemurians,” he said. “They hold ceremonials up there.”

“Lemurians!” ………..

Just as soon as I had transacted my business in Portland I returned to the Mt. Shasta region, incredulous but consumed with curiosity … I planned to equip myself for an expedition ..

I motored toward the point of my investigation, pausing at Weed, a town near Mt. Shasta, for the night. There I discovered that the existence of a ‘mystic village’ on Mt. Shasta was an accepted fact. Business men, amateur explorers, officials and ranchers in the country surrounding Shasta spoke freely of the Lemurian community, and all attested to the weird rituals that are performed on the mountainside at sunset, midnight, and sunrise. Also, they freely ridiculed my avowed trek into the sacred precincts, assuring me that an entrance was as difficult and forbidden as is an entrance into Tibet.

It appears that tho the existence of this colony has been known for more than 50 years, only four or five explorers have penetrated the invisible protective boundaries; and no one has ever succeeded in entering the village, or at least returned to tell the tale. It is of course possible that such a person might have good reasons to hold secret whatever he had seen.

It is safe to say that 50 out of 100 people living within a reasonable distance of Shasta have at some time or other tried to approach the Lemurians – yet many who are known to have penetrated at least part of the mystery will deny having made such an investigation or having any knowledge concerning the Lemurians.

It began to look as if the whole affair was a matter of well-seasoned legendry, yet I myself had seen the strange illumination of Mt. Shasta …. And yet it seemed incredible …

Then I learned that the existence of the Lemurians on Mt. Shasta was vouched for some years ago by the scientist Professor Edgar L. Larkin, formerly director of the Mt. Lowe observatory. He penetrated the Shasta wilderness as far as he could, or dared, and then continued his investigations from a promontory with a powerful telescope.

What he saw, he reported, was a great temple in the heart of the mystic village, a marvellous work of carved marble and onyx, rivaling the magnificence of the temples of Yucatan. He saw a village of 600 to 1000 people; they appeared to be engaged in in the manufacture of various articles and in farming the sunny slopes and glens with miraculous results … evidently contented to live as did their Lemurian forebearers … Professor Larkin gatered enough evidence to enable him to say … that in this village live the lest descendants of the first inhabitants of this earth, the Lemurians.[1]

That these Lemurians are cognizant of the disaster which befell their ancestors is revealed by the fact that each night at midnight they perform a ritual to Guatama, which is the Lemurian name for America. The chief object of this ceremony is to celebrate the escape of their forebears from the doomed Lemuria and their safe arrival in Guatama.

In this midnight ceremony, as in the sunrise and sunset rituals, the weird but wonderful light that first attracted my attention is used. I have seen the midnight ceremonials cause the entire southern side of Mt. Shasta to be illuminated in s most baffling way – a light that reaches up and covers the landscape for great distances … This display of light far exceeds our modern electrical achievements…

The Lemurians have been seen on various occasions; they have been encountered in the Shasta forest, but only for a brief glimpse, for they possess the uncanny secret knowledge of the Tibetan Masters[2] and can blend themselves into their surroundings and vanish. At times they came into neighboring towns – tall, bare-foot, noble-looking men, with close-cropped hair, dressed in spotless white robes that resemble in style the enveloping garment worn by the high-caste East-Indian women of today – to patronize certain stores.

Indeed, the records reveal that at one time on official visit was made to the City of Sen Francisco by a white-robed patriarch from the mystic village. He came on foot, with an escort of younger men, to bring greetings and an assurance of good will upon the anniversary of the founding of their sacred retreat in California. The patriarch was met by an official committee at the Ferry Building and escorted to the City Hall. As soon as greetings had been exchanged the visitors returned to their retreat.

The article concludes by saying that purchases made in Shasta villages by these ‘white-robed men’ include a greet deal of sulphur, lard, and salt; their purchases are paid for in gold nuggets, “they cannot speak our language”; and they make extensive donations to charity. When forest fires occur, they “cause an invisible wall of protection to rise up”.

The alleged factual data in this article obviously falls into some four categories: (a) Observations by Mr. Lenser himself, apparently confined to the lights; (b) Reported observations of Professor Larkin, source not stated – but We believe contained in a small book by Professor Larkin himself; © The visit of the “Patriarch” to San Francisco – said to be a matter of record – somewhere; (d) A digest of stories, beliefs and alleged experiences from inhabitants of the Shasta area. It is impossible further to evaluate this material as it stands, but seems certain that there is a considerable substratum of remarkable facts.

We are anxious to know whether there are any recent reports of similar phenomena (within the last 5-4 years), and would appreciate information from our readers.

Footnotes

1. No reason appears in the account for calling the colony “Lemurian”, except the alleged use of the word Guatama, nor do we know how the meaning and use of this word was ascertained.

2. The “secret knowledge of the Tibetan Masters” is a bit of journalistic build-up; probably some slight skill in woodcraft would be sufficient explanation.

http://journal.borderlands.com/2011/the-mystery-of-mount-shasta/

My Visit to Mount Shasta

Originally included as part of the the BSRA Round Robin (Vol. 3, No. 8, Nov.-Dec. 1947); Article by Major H.A.G., with commentary by BSRA H.B. Williams and Meade Layne.

The writer of the following was a person of high occult advancement. He was a high Mason and had held office in one of America’s best known Rosicrucian organizations. He was a mining engineer and at the time of my contact with him was a Major in the U.S. Army Engineers. In 1936 he retired from the army, and died in 1938 as a result cf a fall down a mountain side in California. I have no comment to make concerning the following account of his experiences upon Mt. Shasta. – H.B. Williams

(Note: The RR Editor has long been in correspondence with Mr. Williams, but has no knowledge concerning Major H.A.G. Interest in the ‘Shasta problem’ seems to justify this additional article, but we have had to omit a large part of it dealing with occult reflections… Readers may be interested to note comments of FGH on this same subject, in his article in this issue.)

For many years students of occultism and mysticism have heard of a colony of advanced thinkers that dwelt somewhere on the slopes of Mt. Shasta … There were rumours to the effect that they were descendants of the Lemurians, and greatly advanced in mystical lore. The writer of this article had been a student of mystical thought for over thirty years, and his home being in California, he had made several trips to Mt. Shasta to try to locate this colony.

(In 1929, the writer continues, he became associated with a group of students in one of the central states, and in the fall of 1952 he received, by psychic or occult means, several messages directing him to go to Mt. Shasta for occult instruction. On Dec. 10 he received instructions to proceed to San Francisco. While waiting for a delayed bus in St. Louis, he was approached by a man who gave a sign of identification. After a lengthy interview he was instructed to meet a Mr. Brunnell at the Brown Hotel in Denver. From this gentleman he received an address in San Francisco, where he arrived on the 19th, and went to his own home, instead of to the address given. In a few hours he received a telephone call from an unknown person, who reproved him for “putting the carnal pleasures of seeing wife and family above the quest for information”. Another interview followed, with further instructions, according to which he was to proceed to Sisson, in Shasta County.)

Early on the morning of Jan. 4th I boarded the train for Sisson. Upon arrival I was met by a large man about 6 ft. 5 in. tall, who said that he had been sent for me. He escorted me to an old 1914 Ford car, we drove about 52 miles up into the mountains, where we stopped at a log cabin and were met by an elderly man almost as large as my escort, but with full beard and long hair. He bade us enter and to partake of a meal of warm corn bread, boiled potatoes, spinach, maple syrup, and oranges. I was then informed that from here on we would go by horseback, as there were no roads. The guide brought forth three horses, packed one with supplies from the rear of the Ford, saddled the other two, and we were ready. Before allowing us to mount our host asked us to kneel, placed himself in front of us, out his hand on each of our heads and gave us his blessing. This was delivered in a language I had never heard before.

While our host was speaking a peculiar sensation passed through my entire body, as though I had been subjected to a mild electric shock, at the same time I felt a pleasant warm glow in the region of the solar plexus, and a slight dizziness. After the blessing we arose and rode away toward the northwest. We continued over a treacherous mountain trail for nearly six hours, when we entered a narrow canyon between two wells of rock, that rose perpendicularly for nearly 500 feet. This narrow passage was about 60 feet wide and half a mile long; it then opened suddenly on a beautiful valley nearly too miles wide by ten miles long. In the center of this valley was a group or village of log cabins. I afterward found that there were 52 of these houses.

I saw very few persons around, and what few there were, were all men of great stature and magnificent physique. No women were in evidence anywhere. We dismounted at one of the cabins and found four men seated around a table conversing in low tones, in the same language as that used by the man who gave us the benediction. All four arose as we entered and one stepped forward and extended his right hand, palm turned down, and in excellent English bade me welcome, and stated that for nearly a month they had looked forward to my visit. After this all four shook hands with me, and all but the one who had welcomed me withdrew thru a door into another room.

My host then asked me to be seated and said, “My friend, your journey has been long and you must rest before you enter upon our work. I commend you to the forces that will rebuild within your physical system the tired and abused cells. Sleep until I return to you.” Scarce had he ceased speaking when my head fell back on the high back of the chair and I fell asleep. From this sleep I was awakened by feeling some one standing behind me and gently stroking my temples… It was the same person who had made me welcome to the village.

He immediately began talking to me in a low pleasant tone, telling me of the course of instruction which he said they had received orders to give me. Of this I cannot speak at present … all I can say is, that I would receive two hours of instruction, then have half an hour for concentration and 1.5 hours for rest. This routine was to be gone over four times each day for 16 hours, leaving me 8 hours for sleep. This schedule was strictly adhered to for the three days I remained among them.

I was told during my rest period that the village was called the outer villages, and that the main village was up and around a bend in the canyon. No one was allowed to enter it except members of their colony, but that if my development allowed me to return for further instruction I would be allowed to visit their temple in the upper village. I would have to be blindfolded while being escorted to and from the temple… This much I can divulge concerning the lessons; that one of their underlying principles is that “Man cannot know life until he understands fully the phenomena of so-called death.” To more fully understand this principle I was instructed in the Art of “so-called transition”, which is, to put it simply, the knowledge of how to put yourself temporarily in a state of suspended animation. In this state the soul is really manifesting on another plane, and on its return is able to bring back its experiences.

Now as to the physical part of the life in this village. I asked my mentor if they were really descendants of the Lemurians. His reply was, that they were direct descendants of a highly developed race that lived on a continent that sank beneath the waves many centuries ago. I had noticed that my teacher looked at times like a man of middle age and at other times he seemed a very old man. I asked him how old he was, and he replied, “We do not reckon life by years but by the development it has attained. I do not know my age in years, but this I know, I was an old teacher in this village when slavery was yet existing in this country.”

As slavery has not been practised for over 68 years my teacher must have been nearly a hundred years old, if not more. Still, his voice and action were those of a man of 35 or 40 years. All the persons I met had either full beards or vandykes. Their hair was brown or dark brown. I did not see any gray hair while there. Nor did I see a woman, but I was informed that the real colony lived in the main village so no doubt there were women there. Their food was simple and wholesome and they raised most of their vegetables and fruit. I did not see any animals except the three horses which brought us in, and a few sheep. I was also informed that they did some gold mining, enough to purchase what supplies were needed from the outside world. In looks they did not differ from the ordinary person except in their great stature. The only real peculiarity I noticed about them was that nearly everyone had a deep scar about an inch long in the center of the forehead.

I left their village Saturday afternoon and arrived in San Francisco Sunday morning … I am anxiously locking forward to the time when I will again be allowed to visit these wonderful people and receive from them lessons that will entitle me to initiation into their temple … Peace be with you …

Mr. H.B. Williams, who sent us the ms. of this Mt. Shasta article, gives us an additional note on the authorship: “So far as I know, this material was never in print. It was given to a class under his instruction … he belonged to no particular School and charged nothing for his work.

“According to the Major there is a center in the Smoky Mountains in the south. It is a sort of preliminary testing place. The Shasta account is something one can either take or leave alone. I have given enough notes at the beginning and end of the article so that informed readers should be able to recognize the Major. He was a high officer in a California organization of a still-existing occult society. His account was given to us in written form, as typed copies… It is my personal belief that there is something at Shasta, but that the individual sees what ‘they’ want him to see … part of the Major’s experience may have been psychical and part on the physical plane…”

(With regard to this last point, the Initiate FGH has told the RR Editor, that the ‘entrances’ to the Shasta Lodge or Center are on the astral and that those formerly existing on the physical level have been sealed; it is my impression that Fr. FGH would agree with the last sentence in the paragraph by Mr. Williams, above. It is also stated, on the authority of one of the 14 witnesses present, that Major H.A.G. possessed a degree of occult power, and was able to materialize a half-opened white rose “covered with dew and with a hollow stem”. So far as our information goes, the character and record of H.A.G. seem to be above reproach, and this of course has important bearing on the genuineness of the experience related in the Trip to Mt. Shasta article.)

http://journal.borderlands.com/2011/the-mystery-of-mount-shasta/2/

Probing the Mystery of Mt. Shasta

Originally included as part of the the BSRA Journal of Borderland Research (Vol. 18, No. 2, March 1962); Letter from Emma Martinelli to Ray Palmer, with commentary by BSRA Riley Crabb.

Emma Martinelli, member of the San Francisco Interplanetary Club, spent two weeks on the slopes of Mt. Shasta in Weed, California in 1946. Here is the letter she wrote to Ray Palmer, then editor of Amazing Stories Magazine in Chicago.

“I have just returned from a two weeks stay in Weed, one of the towns which is about as near as you can get to Mt. Shasta. The people in a small town are odd. I don’t think you can crash them on a first entry. At least, I found this to be true, and I make friends very easily. I bided my time, and let them make the advances. Even after they took me in, I found most of them reluctant to talk about their ‘mountain people’. Most of them apparently take little stock in the tales which are circulated. Some of them laugh, but I’m wondering if there might not be a few who know things they just dont want to talk about. Maybe they’ve had follow up experiences after divulging previous occurrences. Your guess is as good as mine on this score.

“I think I covered the town as well as anyone in my position could. It was a combination of practical judgment and vibration on my part. I left no stone unturned. I followed all leads and talked with others I felt led to talk to. Judge Bradley, a very old resident, knew nothing. Neither did the postmaster’s mother, a Mrs. King. The most help I got was from a newspaper man, a Mr. Harder, who publishes the Weed “Log”, and a clerk in the Log Cabin Hotel, an elderly gentleman who has lived in Weed for 27 years. His name is Bob Young.

“Harder was running the election at the time. He ran in on me on election morning, to relate an unusual experience which had just occurred. I have only his word for this, as I didn’t see the creature involved. It seems that a sort of moron ambled into the place and said he just wanted to watch. Harder said he resembled a gorilla and was of a low order of intelligence. Harder was puzzled because he’d never seen this being before. In a town as small as this a newcomer stands out like a sore thumb. Even the men from neighboring farms are somewhat familiar, if not actually known. This gorilla-type creature simply stood behind one of the girls who was counting votes and stared at her back. She became quite agitated and it was with difficulty that Harder finally got rid of this being. I hiked every day, alone in the woods, and never came across anyone like this.

“Even though I had no experiences to speak of the first few days, I was convinced that there was something around the Mountain, because I never felt alone. But it wasn’t the nicest type of feeling. I felt as though I was being watched. The second day there I stumbled accidentally on a beautiful meadow. It was so perfect I wouldn’t have been surprised to see fairies dance. I just lay face downwads to the earth and tried to relax, but I had to look around every so often. The stillness was unpleasant. It was too full of something unseen. You can walk all day long up there and not see a soul. And I constantly lost my way. I am a good hiker and I have a good sense of direction, but it seemed as though something were deliberately trying to confuse me. It’s a very unpleasant feeling to realize that you are lost in a strange place. Each time this happened, I refused to become panicky and simply allowed myself to be led according to my lights.

“I think there may be peculiar forces in the ground, because I saw a dog act very strangely. I was walking at sundown, and passed a cottage with a large red dog in front of it. I’ve been raised in the country with dogs and I think I know their habits fairly well. Many times they roll over and over in the earth, seeming to enjoy the fragrance, etc., but this dog had all the appearance of a dead animal. His legs were straight up in the air, paws rigid and even his mouth was fixed in a stiff position. I watched him for some time, then started for the cottage door to tell the occupants they had a dead dog. Just to be sure, I spoke to the dog first. This seemed to rouse him from his trance. He slithered through the half open gate and came over to where I stood. I patted his head and started on my way, but he put a paw on my arm. He didn’t seem to want me to go, and he didn’t look like an ordinary dog at all. He watched me all the way down the road, with the strangest expression in his eyes. I only mention this incident to bring out the fact that I think there may be certain currents in the earth.

THE SONG OF THE EARTH

“I wouldn’t lay too much stock in this next incident, but I’ll give it to you anyway. I’m a very practical person, and I always tear everything apart in analyzing it. I eliminate every material factor, and what is left I consider the truth. At least I’m able to know which experiences are fancied and which are not.

“I was awakened from sleep, by a peculiar scale of notes which seemed to come from under the bed. At first I thought it might just be the pounding of my heart. You know how you sometimes har it in the pillow? But this was different. It sounded like a cross between the plucking of harp strings, and a very delicate anvil chorus. It sounded exactly like some sort of mechanism within the earth. I got it only once again some nights later, but much fainter. BUt there are three experiences which I know to be true; each happened when I least expected it.

“I had been there over a week and never walked at night. This particular evening I was very tired, but had the urge to go for a stroll. I took my flashlight and smokes, and sauntered down the highway towards the mountain. It was that peculiar half-light between day and night. There was only an egg shaped moon, and about three planets. As I neared a certain hill I happened to glance upward and saw a rocket-like affair heading toward a certain hill. It happened so quickly I wasn’t able to digest it until afterwards. I’ve seen Halley’s comet and I’ve seen shooting stars, and it was neither. The nearest resemblence, though not exactly, was to a torch which might have been hurled from a plane. I thought, “That’s funny. Now who would want to set fire to the woods?” And then I realized that the mark would be missed anyhow, because this rocket affair disappeared over the hill. If it had gone down the swell, I’d have thought it landed on the other side, but it dissolved in mid-air. According to my scale of measurement, from where I was, this thing was visible for about three feet, appaering to come from the evening star, or whatever that first big planet was, going towards the moon which was nearer the hill, and then disappearing. I figure the disappearing doesn’t mean it was no longer in flight. It just disappeared from my sight because there was no longer a visible propulsion. The head of this rocket was brighter than the tail, and the tail was composed of bright lines sch as a jet propelled machined might leave in its wake. The hill over which it disappeared is just east of Mt. Shasta. If this is what I think it was, I believe it kept going and landed right in the Mountain, much as a plane might fly into a hangar. Harder went on a geologists’expedition up the mountain. He says there are caves in the glacier big enough to throw Weed into! And I thought it very funny when I related this experience to Young. He looked at me very queerly and asked me on which side of the mountain this occurred. when I said the east side he smiled even more queerly. He said most everything occured on that side.

“But here’s the payoff. I came home immediately and wrote the experience to my sister. Wrote till nearly midnight, sealed the letter and retired. I arose in order to adjust the blind and rested my hand on the bedstead for support. I got such an electric shock that when I pulled my hand away I saw the sparks and heard them. I went over the floor for any exposed wires and found none. Tried to repeat the occurrence, but no soap.

THE VOICE FROM THE CAVERNS

“And here‘s the piece de resistance. I’ll remember it much longer than the rest. I get goose pimples even now when I relate it.

“A couple of days later, just before returning to San Francisco, Young was telling me about a voice he used to hear across the way from the hotel. It seems he used to walk about six o’clock every evening. This spot is called the Pilgrim’s Rest, and is in direct line with the room I occupied. There’s a clean sweep of the mountain here. I could see it from my window. He said it was the anguished cry of a woman. I determined to explore this very evening. Along about three thirty in the afternoon I became very drowsy and lay down for a nap. I dozed until five, and awakened. I lay with my eyes closed, in that relaxed state where you can’t exactly collect your wits. suddenly I was aware of voices, women’s voices. They seemed to be faintly yelling. In my half stupor I thought there were young people playing outside. Then I remembered there were no young people here. Now, one voice was predominant. It was a woman’s voice. Rather thin and pathetic. It was more of an anguished call, than the type of scream accompanying a murder or such. It called, “Hel … Hel … help!” It was such an anguished cry for aid that I turned icy cold, and the minute I became taut it ceased. I was out of the bed like a shot out of a cannon. To be truthful I don’t know whether the voice came from the ground under the bed, or across the way from the mountain. I’m inclined to think it came from the mountain.

“But here’s the difference between these last two experiences: the rocket incident was objective, the voice subjective. Anyone with me would have seen the flare. I°m not sure that anyone with me would have heard the voice. Young says the same; no one ever seemed to hear what he heard. Last of all, I’m curious to know if I was supposed to see this flare, or was it an accident?

“There you are, Mr. Palmer. As much as I can give you. I tried my darndest to climb that mountain, but no marked trails, and they simply wouldn’t let me go alone. I’d make trouble for them if I got lost, freeze to death in the night, etc. To tell you the truth I’m glad I couldn’t go. I’m not ashamed to be afraid of such things. I figure I didn’t do too badly for a newcomer. The geologists’ expedition found nothing at all. They had University of California men with them and all the necessary equipment, tapped all over the mountain and explored thoroughly. I think this proves that only those who are ready for such experiences have them. It’s not so much a case of being equipped materially, but being equipped psychically. Of course I’m in favor of an armed expedition to clean out the dero, but I dont think any but righteously advanced people can contact the good forces. In signing off, I’m here to tell you that you have a jewel in Shaver. What he doesn’t know — isn’t worth knowing. Let those who want to laugh, laugh. I’ll take vanilla.”

SIX YEARS LATER

In 1952 Emma stopped in Weed on her return from British Columbia, in company with her sister and brother-in-law. She continues:

“We had parked the car in a direct line with the hotel room I had occupied six years previously. I was not hungry so while the others went into the hotel for luncheon I remained in the car writing a letter. Suddenly smoke rose from the car floor. I thought this strange as I was not smoking a cigarette at the time. On looking down I discovered that a hole had been burned right through the car carpet! Naturally I immediately rubbed out the scorch and burn with my foot. The only visible physical cause would be the rather warm highnoon sun shining through a bottle of mineral water on the floor, but in view of such a possibility I had covered this jug with my sweater. Even with the summer sun, it would seem illogical that within a few minutes of parking, and with the shielded bottle, that a fire of this nature would be started. Some may say the mineral water contained an element which augmented the sun’s rays. My guess would be, in view of previous findings, that if anything augmented the solar rays through a heavily covered bottle it was a booster current or magnetic ray from underground, as this was the exact spot where the episodes occurred six years previously.

“A word might not be amiss here, in regard to any cavern world. I think that the Director of BSRA has the most balanced viewpoint as evidenced by his material anent the inner earth. He does not say that the inner earth cannot be inhabited by physical or dimensionally interchangeable beings. He does not say they are all good or all bad. He merely hints, in substance, that unless we can do a thorough job in cleaning out the undesirable, it is better not to stir up a hornet’s nest.

“I visited Shasta territory again in l953, staying in the town of Mt. Shasta, nine miles south of Weed on Highway 99 and more to the east. I have come a long way since 1945 and this I have found, we may have the good OR the bad. Our own thinking process is the port of entry I brought back preponderance of good from the beautiful Mt. Shasta, not evil. Good which has stayed with me through the years.

“We are not going to have a better world merely through investigation of any supposed dero. We don’t have to enter the inner earth to find such lost souls. Earth’s surface has enough people who need help and right thought. Neither do we have to explore the inner earth by way of finding saviors. These people also walk the earth’s surface. As a means of being well-informed, there is no harm in reading about, listening to, and discussing the pros and cons of the inner earth — providing we are well grounded in Truth. There is a place for everything in the universe, and everything in its place. So long as the Great Mind is at the helm and we keep our own thought pure, all will be revealed in time. There is a vast difference between going out of the way to stir up evil we cannot handle, and taking a stand should we be inadvertently confronted with this evil. In short, each person is his own keeper.”

Shasta is a mountain of mystery, as Emma’s 1946 visit proved to her. Your Editor has little reason to doubt that a Lodge of the White Brotherhood is active there. My study of the Kabala has taught me the principle of balance. This means that there must be also a Lodge of Black Magicians in the Shasta area. I have been told that this Lodge occupies 6,000 foot Black Butte, next to Mt. Shasta — on which cinder pile nothing seems to want to grow. If your curiosity about Shasta has been aroused by the reading of 0liver’s “Phylos, Dweller on Two Planets” by all means visit the place if you can. The mountain is an impressive pile of white, standing by itself against the California sky. Judy and I spent one night in the town of Shasta on the western slopes of the mountain, during our February 1961 lecture trip up to Vancouver and back. We didn’t experience anything unusual and would have liked to stay longer to get the feel of the place. There are plenty of good motels in Shasta and Weed. There is also a comparatively new ski lodge on the mountain at about the 7,000 ft. level, with an excellent paved road going up to it from Shasta. The ski lift goes on up to about 9,000 feet, and operates in the summer as well. Accomodations at the lodge are limited and not cheap; reservations have to be made in advance during the winter skiing season. We would have liked to spend our night up there but the lodge is closed on Monday and Tuesday and booked solid the rest of the week. In my estimation, Mt. Shasta has been a center for occult activity here on the Pacific Coast for thousands of years. For this reason powerful elemental forces, neither good nor bad in themselves, continually play in and around the mountain. Individual reaction to these forces will depend on the preponderance of good or evil in one’s own personality!

http://journal.borderlands.com/2011/the-mystery-of-mount-shasta/3/

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