Collection: Directories and Documents > Tanis Thorne Native Californian & Nisenan Collection

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Title: Mis Misa - The Power Within Akoo-Yet That Protects the World by Darryl Wilson Collection Type: Directories and Documents Collection Name: Tanis Thorne Native Californian & Nisenan Collection # of Pages: 7 Download PDF: User Login Required Download OCR Text: User Login Required

Date Scanned: 2024-09-03 23:19:36 OCR Software Version #: tesseract 5.4.1 Item Sourced From: PDF First Created: 2025-03-17 03:32:23 Last Updated: 2025-03-17 03:32:23

Original Held At: Searls Historical Library Location: 161 Nevada City Hwy, Nevada City, CA 95959

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While I could barely decipher his broken spelling and the individual letters that he had labored over (as he wrote “in American”), the fact that it came from him demanded immediate attention, as the elders of my Nation are the keepers of truths and treasures, keepers of wisdom and knowledge. My brother and J arrived at Grandfather Craven’s home in Atwam (Big Valley, California) in the early evening. After a cup of bitter coffee from his stained mugs, we went outside to study the clear and perfect night sky. Grandfather did not talk about the universe, he talked about the moon. His was a message given in a controlled panic—as one who knows a disaster is about to occur but also understands that it would be more damaging to try to warn the people. The early night was solemn. There was a hush, a quiet. Not even a coyote howled. Wind, still. Wild, silent. With a gnarled hand, our ninety year old grandfather pointed to the full moon of August, 1973 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. When I was a child long ago, she said there was a war. It was a big war between the people—a war between the thinkings. There was a terrible war. 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. When the moon caught fire there wasn’t even enough water to put it out. It was all used up. The moon burned. It cooked everything. That huge fire cooked everything. Just everything.” We went back into his old and crooked shack and he talked until breaking light about the eroding condition of earth and the eroding condition of the spirit of humanity. MISMISA — 77 Because Grandfather wanted us to observe the moon, we went outside and stood with him in the early chill. The old people call it Lok-mhe, the light just before the silver of dawn. He told us of his fears of how this earth could be itamyi-uzw (all used up) if all of the people of all of the world do not correct their manner of wasting resources and amend their arrogant disregard for all of life. There was a thickness under the brilliance of a million dancing stars in the moments before first light. Thirty miles to the north, Akoo-Yet shivered white against the velvet cold black. We were surrounded by the immense silence upon the ancient land of our people of the Pit River Nation, on the flat land of Atwam where the Pit River meanders towards the sea. (According to legend, the moon bumped earth at Atwam, making a huge circular indentation—as if the surrounding mountains were pushed out by an immense pressure. The mole people, it is said, dug under the moon and with a united thrust, shoved the moon back into its present orbit). 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 recognize 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.