Jomeokee, the Great Guide

For several years, I have been wanting to take another vision quest. Each time I tried, something came up and things did not go as I planned. This time, things fell together naturally. I took the son of my spirit on a pilgrimage to Jomeokee last weekend.

Pilot Mountain is in the piedmont of North Carolina. It is the closest mountain to where I live, which some people believe means that it is my protector. The native Saura people called this mountain Jomeokee, which translates to the Great Guide or Pilot. They used this mountain as a landmark to navigate their trade routes. As European settlers entered the area, they did the same - a wagon route was built near its base. The mountain and the land around it were held privately for many years, but it eventually became a state park. As it happens, Pilot Mountain became a state park in the year of my birth, 1976.

"Between one billion and 600 million years ago, the supercontinent Rodinia – which came before Pangea – began to break up. With it, a basin began to widen and formed what was essentially the Atlantic Ocean’s grandfather. This was the Iapetus Ocean. Today, Pilot Mountain marks a point of uplift from the Iapetus Ocean. Essentially, it is Iapetus Ocean seafloor. The ocean existed in the Neoproterozoic and Paleozoic portions of earth’s history, roughly 600 million years ago, so the presence of today’s remaining marker is astonishing." Source

This place was a landmark, a guiding point in early navigation, but it was far more than that. The knob of the mountain is quartzite, which is a metamorphic rock composed essentially of quartz. This ancient megalith, by its very composition, is a giant conductor and amplifier of power. Jomeokee also sits on a convergence of several ley lines, which is called a ley point or vortex. POWER, thy name is Jomeokee!

A few years ago, I met a Native man who is an environmental educator. He told me about taking people up on Pilot Mountain to see the spirit lights and tell the old stories. I didn't remember that until just now, but it is reassuring. Though the Saura people are gone, some Native peoples remember the significance and power of Jomeokee. Legend has it that the Native peoples believed that the mountain and 30 miles around it were holy ground.

We arrived on a Saturday morning, and it was already quite hot. Neither of us were in the mood to talk to officials, so we just drove into the park and followed the signs for the campground. We circled around several times before deciding on a campsite and settling the bill. This was to be a theme for the weekend - spiraling around to the eventual destination. We set up camp and resolved to rest through the heat of the day.

Rain moved in during the afternoon, bringing blessed coolness with it. We had a fun time "trying to stay dry", but we didn't' try very hard. It was delightful. Eventually, we realized that there wasn't much daylight left. There wasn't enough time to walk to the pinnacle from our campsite, though the trail was conveniently in our back yard. Instead, we drove up to the parking lot.

We climbed up to the Little Pinnacle, then took the trail over to the Big Pinnacle, which then circles around the base of the outcropping. We passed a few families, then found plenty of quiet. We must have walked halfway around the knob when I announced that I needed to merge with the mountain. I found a good place and settled in for some meditation. My son was off like a mountain goat, climbing up a crack and away somewhere on the pinnacle itself.

I spoke my thanks to the mountain for allowing me to visit, and offered salt, cornmeal and tobacco. I closed my eyes to better focus on the energy of the place, which was intense yet gentle. I asked the questions I had for the mountain. I drew in its healing power to renew my spirit.

Many natural places in NC feel gentle to me - I think due to their age. The mountains here are old, old old. They are rounded and low, mostly covered with trees. There is a mysterious feeling also, which has driven many of my explorations. Out west, I needed to climb the next peak, see the next vista. I was filled with awe, and often, the mountains there would push me to my limits and beyond. Here in NC, it's more about finding the next hidden treasure, like a grotto or waterfall pool. It's a sense of exploring inward, or perhaps backward in time.

At length, I sensed a presence and opened my eyes to see a large doe no more than 20 yards away. We watched each other for a timeless time, and she moved off out of my sight. A short while later, she or another doe appeared on the left side of my field of vision. I love to visit with the gentle spirits of deer. They are so watchful, so wary, so gentle and graceful, yet they can be fierce when necessary.

For a time, we could not find the trail back to the Little Pinnacle. We resolved to walk around the knob as many times as needed, until the mountain let us go. This was perfectly acceptable to me; it seemed a fitting offering, similar to using prayer beads or offering Yoga practice to the Divine.

Eventually, we made it back. I wandered over to a minor overlook and looked out over the patchwork of homes and farm fields that surround the mountain. There was a great deal of haze, no doubt due to the high humidity, which prevented me from seeing Virginia to the north, or the Blue Ridge Mountains to the west.

I spotted a hawk, and as we watched, it flew closer to us, riding the updrafts along the base of the peak. Filled with joy, I reached out my hand and made a grabbing motion toward the hawk. It's a little idiosyncrasy of mine - I do this when I want something, the way a small child would. At that moment, the hawk flew directly overhead, and froze in midair.

The hawk held its position overhead for what seemed like an eternity. Just hovering. My son and I looked at each other. The hawk hovered.

At last, the hawk moved a bit to the south. We followed and continued to watch. The hawk chose a spot facing west and hovered again. The hawk finally flew into the west and dropped out of sight.

It has taken me a full week to figure out how and what to write about my visit to the Great Guide. It was a powerful experience, and I am so grateful. Not just to the mountain, but to my son. He is so incredibly talented and powerful. I am so proud of the man he is becoming, the person that he is. The mountain sheltered and renewed us, but I may have learned as much from him as I did from the mountain. It is well. I got what I needed.

Blessed be!