After exploring the Ohlone and Miwok worlds on Mt. Diablo’s lower slopes, I ventured to its summit. A lot of Ohlone and Miwok Indians thought creation happened from there.
Miwok people told a creation story that begins with a California condor who lived on Mt. Diablo. He learned that the stone he perched on was actually his wife. She gave birth to Falcon, who wanted to create people but didn’t know how. His father told him to speak with Coyote, who lived by the ocean. Falcon learned that he had to capture three birds: the Vulture, the Crow, and the Raven. He and Coyote then pulled feathers from each. Next morning they went around the countryside, stuck three feathers in the ground at each place where they wanted people to live, and gave each place a name. On the following morning all the feathers sprang to life and became the Miwok people.
Directly under the ebullient sun and viewing peaks I regularly hike up to around the South Bay, I appreciated how Indians thought creation happened from its summit.
Mission Peak is at the far left in the above photo. Sunol Ridge rises to its immediate right. Behind the area where they both dip and appear to meet (Highway 680 runs between them), Mt. Umunhum rises. All these places from my past seemed unified in a field of light and creativity.
Looking down (northward in the above shot), many different ecosystems contrasted while being in this unified field.
All basked under the sun, and the golden hills seemed to shine back at it out of gratitude. This field seemed permeated by love.
The bay and the ocean glistened as I looked west in the late afternoon. Many California Indians thought people’s souls travel west when they leave this world. The human lifecycle seemed integrated on Diablo’s summit.
The tallest San Francisco skyscrapers playfully rose over the East Bay hills. The popular SF Chronicle columnist Herb Caen didn’t like the skyscraper boom that began in the late 1960s, feeling that the previous tallest buildings were in scale with the hills so that the skyline was balanced. From this higher vantage point, buildings, mountains, and water perfectly blended.
Mt. Tamalpais beckoned over the North East Bay hills (above). Tamalpais means Bay Mountain in Miwok. Different peaks could be seen from each other, and some Indians scaled them to connect with the most creative aspects of nature.
I spent so much time at Diablo’s summit that I had to jog much of the way down. It was still dark when I reached the parking lot. Two weeks later, I hiked to the top of Mt. Umunhum, which rises in the Santa Cruz Mountains (below).
Umunhum is an Ohlone word for hummingbird and an imitation of the bird’s sound. Some saw Hummingbird as a trickster. Swift and crafty, it was directed by Eagle to take fire from the Badger People, who did not want to share it. He returned it to the top of Mt. Umunhum, where it ignited in his throat and turned it red.
I could clearly see Mt. Hamilton from its summit (below).
The Mission Peak, Allison Peak, & Monument Peak trio is in the below photo. I wonder how Crow feels about the high-tech enterprises in San Jose’s downtown.
Black Mountain rises to the north (below, in the center). That has been one of my go-to hikes over the years, so I have lots of fond memories of it.
I looked toward Sunnyvale, where I grew up and still live. I often gazed at Mt. Umunhum as a boy. From the summit, I also looked down where Highway 17 is, which runs between Silicon Valley and Santa Cruz, and remembered riding over it as my dad took my mom and me to the beaches. With many warm memories of my past welling up, I could see how Indians often associated local mountains with ancestors’ spirits. People in some Native American societies, including Navaho, have regarded them as parents. I ended up feeling deep affection for all of these peaks, thinking of them as early teachers that inspired me to strive for higher perspectives than the valley’s boundaries.
The ocean is to the west. As from the top of Mt. Diablo, views of it can inspire people to expand their mental horizons beyond their current communities and wonder about humanity’s connections with the whole universe.
An Ohlone ceremonial circle was recently created on Mt. Umunhum’s summit. Earth, sky, present, and past all seemed to be integrated.
All these peaks are visible from high-tech companies in the Bay Area. Right in our backyards are places where everything is integrated in an expansive field of light and love, which can’t be confined to large language models that AI systems use. The space we live in can be apprehended through multiple cultures’ perspectives and become increasingly alive.
We don’t need to hike up mountains to enter this world. We can look At/With/Beyond and explore one culture after another. All can reflect each other in ever more ways and inspire each other. My books take this approach as far as possible within two covers. You can also explore articles here on India, China, Southeast Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. All cultures can increasingly shine on each other.