Alpha State Writings

Foreword: High Cloud’s Name
“It’s something about being in or walking in a high-altitude cloud. Walks in high clouds maybe,” I said to Myrtha. Myrtha is a wise woman of Navajo heritage I met when I lived in Tujunga, California, and I was telling her of my vision quest back in 1991.“The first time I saw Mount Shasta, I was on a road trip to Canada from Los Angeles in mid-September, and was driving north through Corning in northern California. Shasta was so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes, seeing it that first time. You can feel its being from that far away, and farther; Shasta seems like a person, a long lost beloved friend you are seeing again. “From there it was like one motion. I drove straight to Mount Shasta City, about 120 miles farther, and went in a grocery store there, where I bought three pounds of trail mix, a couple gallons of water, and a few other supplies. Then I got in my car and headed up the mountain. The road ended in a small parking lot at about 8,000 feet, so I parked my car. I loaded up my backpack, literally throwing the stuff from my suitcase into it, along with the supplies from the store. I put on my hiking shoes and headed uphill. It was tiring walking uphill at that altitude, but I felt like I was receiving energy from Shasta; I got a sense that if I just listened to Shasta and paid attention, I’d be fine. Shasta would help me and keep me safe. I looked at the ground and ahead of me, noticing the arrow-shaped rocks or branches of trees that told me which paths to take. Soon I smelled fresh water ahead and suddenly, I felt less tired. The water was like magic. I hadn’t even gotten to it and it was rejuvenating me already! “When I got to the spot where the spring came out, I must have drunk half a gallon of it. That water is INCREDIBLY GOOD! I dumped out my water bottles and refilled them from the magic stream. I was no longer the least bit tired, so I headed uphill again for a couple more hours, until it started getting dark, and I saw a reason to stop. At this altitude of around 10,000 feet the pine and fir trees had petered out to small ones, only about three or four feet tall and gnarly looking. Nearby stood two old cinder-block buildings, about nine feet square and eight feet tall. There was still some grass on the ground on the flattish area around them, but I could see that farther up the slope, the snow still hadn’t melted, even this late in summer. Ok, this is the place to spend the night, I thought. Having some uncertainty about large predators, I decided to climb on top of the building on the right. The sun began to sink over the horizon, and the air got cold very quickly. Over my walking shorts went long pants; over the t-shirt went a long sleeve shirt, then another t-shirt; more walking shorts outside my long pants; another pair of socks, then back on with the shoes. Ok, I’ll be warm enough now, I thought. I lay down, to sleep, I hoped. Nope! Some wind and getting still colder convinced me to climb down and go into the other building with the door. “Now I was definitely warmer, but I had to put a slab of plywood I found there, underneath me to keep the cold concrete floor from sucking away my body heat. It worked, so I rested as best I could at that altitude, with my lungs working hard, and eventually got to sleep. “I woke at what must have been 3:00 a.m., and through the crack in the doorway caught sight of the crescent moon going down over the horizon. When the moon went down the wind came up to an ominous whistle, reminding me how glad I was to be inside. I wedged the door closed better and rested half asleep till the sun came up, illuminating the room a little and calming the wind. I removed my extra layers, back to walking shorts, t-shirt, etc. I had some trail mix, drank that wonderful water, and was ready to go. THAT path—yeah THAT one, Shasta was saying to me in Shasta’s Tongue. So I walked up the path along the top of a ridge for a while. Then I saw a tent on the left a little way down the slope from the ridge. The two guys there said they lived in Colorado, at about six thousand feet elevation. They were staying at that altitude for a day or two to get acclimated so they could make it to the top. That didn’t worry me, I had Shasta’s help for my energy and wanted to get to wherever it was I was going. “Soon the trees all petered out, giving way to some mostly purple flowers, growing in a ring about four feet wide around Shasta at that altitude for as far as I could see. Then it was red flowers—smaller these, with bees swarming around them, in a ring all around Shasta the same way. Now yellow, smaller yet and with different shapes, going a good way up. The patches of permanent snow on the sides were getting more frequent and bigger as I ascended, and the vegetation died out to just lichen growing on the gray, sometimes crumbly rock. The air had grown very thin by now. I had started the day walking and climbing, taking rests every few minutes and doing martial arts rejuvenative breathing. Now I was using martial-arts breathing all the time and taking breaks every hundred steps, then fifty, twenty, ten, five. It got to one step for a while, then I saw ahead of me a flattened, widened area of the path where someone had put rocks in an oval and cleared a nice smooth, flat, space. I went and laid on my back in the oval with my head more uphill. Tiny transparent worms and things swam in my vision. Boy, I was glad to be laying down resting! As I lay there, Shasta’s energy slowly seeped into me, reviving me, and as it did so the air around and above me gradually drew my attention. The air was wispy, thinly cloudy, and it came to me that I was within a cloud, there on Shasta. After a few long moments more, amazement struck me. I was in a cirrus cloud, a high-altitude cloud normally found above twenty thousand feet! Holy cow! I had walked up into a high altitude cloud! At this point I got the impression (from Shasta mostly) that I had done what I came there to do. Knowingly or not, I had completed a vision quest. “Again filled with new energy, I stood and looked up the path, and to my disappointment, saw not far ahead, a glacier between me and the summit. That was definitely beyond what my lack of equipment allowed, not to mention my not being acclimated, or in physical condition at that point, to do that climb. It’s okay you’ve done remarkably well, came the thought, with a comforting feeling, like a pat on the back, or a parents embrace. I turned, and with what seemed hardly any effort, returned down Shasta’s side to my car in under three hours! I repacked my car and resumed my trip, stopping at a restaurant for some solid food on the way out. Darned if before I ate, I didn’t need to use the restroom too. I hadn’t had to even think about that on Shasta.”I knew that in many Native American traditions, I now had a name. The name never seemed to materialize solidly for me, though I knew it was something about being in or walking in high altitude clouds. This was why I was talking to Myrtha, she could help. Myrtha looked at me and said, “Don’t make it complicated. It’s easy. You have a good name already, Lloyal Walker. Just put High Cloud in the middle, it goes right together. Lloyal High Cloud Walker. It suits you. You are lucky, it’s a great name!” Somewhat overcome with emotion, I said “Thank you, Myrtha. You have just named me.” At this point I realizing I couldn’t just name myself, no matter what I had done. That’s why it wouldn’t gel before. I needed someone, a wise person, to name me.
The “Hi, God” Story
One day,
God imagined himself to be a single human being.
Why, it must be you!
Hello again, God.