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Hidden Halos,
Chapter 2, Part 3
by Kimberly Carson

Do Only One Thing

In a fear-based belief system, surrender sounds powerless. In the world of appearances, it has meant to give up to the enemy. It's ironic that in truth it means the absolute opposite. We give up control to the highest, most powerful, most infinitely loving, omniscient presence. Count me in, and give me a white flag, Jesse thought. Surrender is not powerless; humility is not passive; and obedience is not mindless. Surrender is letting God express fully through us; humility is recognizing that we don't know everything (nor do we need to); and obedience is a discipline that causes our channels and filters to remain clear so this limitless power can come through us. God is so much more qualified to run this universe and has a better plan for us than we ever could dream up. There is no question so trivial, no circumstance so immense that our attunement to God can't transform it from the lower vibrational egoic experience to the higher frequency realm of the divine. Be still and know. Stillness is the ego's archenemy. Know the answer is within us. Not of us, but through us. Uniting our minds with God can be so reflexive that ultimately, through conscious cooperation, we wake up. Together. And we're in Heaven. Wow. Cool.

After a brief layover in San Francisco, Jesse was on her way to her final destination, Klamath Falls, Oregon, and then the hour drive with Julia to Chiloquin. It's not where Jesse and her sister and brother grew up, but it's home now. The family moved there when Jesse was a sophomore in high school for some reason that to this day no one understands. One day they were living in Southern California suburbia, and the next day her folks announced they were moving to Oregon. 'God's Country' as her dad referred to it, but after her first day there she couldn't see how any self respecting God would have anything to do with such a place. More like God forsaken, she decided. No beach, no friends, no sidewalks and no mall. If you didn't hunt, fish, trap or find pure contentment watching the river flow, there wasn't much to do. The pristine mountains, roaring rivers and rugged landscape were a stark contrast to the palm trees and manicured neighborhoods of Orange County. The eyes of a teenager in the throes of hormonal angst misses the twinkling leaves of the Quaking aspens shimmering in the summer sunshine like diamonds as the thin, tall tree stretches toward the sun. They don't see the stands of Douglas Fir, Lodgepole and majestic Ponderosa Pine sharing the mountainsides with violet lupine, pink and lavender wild geranium, or the waxy-like little yellow sagebrush buttercup. Those same adolescent ears ignore the song sparrow, redwing blackbird, mountain bluebird, junco, downy woodpecker and cliff swallow that soar in the same crystal clear blue sky with the golden and bald eagles. The Cascade mountain range stretching regally to the west, with Crater Lake National Park bordering the north, and magical Mount Shasta to the south, Jesse related only to a T-shirt she found in a store claiming, "conveniently located in the middle of nowhere."

Chiloquin itself was an Indian camp for a group of the Klamath tribe for hundreds of years before the area developed in the early 1900's, and the town grew substantially after the railroad tracks from Klamath Falls were completed around 1912. The logging industry encouraged rapid growth thereafter, and the town was a bustling combination of ranchers, loggers, Indians, mill workers and a fair population of other nationalities. For years considered, "Little Chicago of the West," due to its rough reputation for repeated episodes of drunken brawls, frequent murders and overall disorderliness, its rowdy reputation lived on after its economic boom ended. The surrounding area was the site of the Modoc War in 1875, which Jesse didn't find particularly interesting, and only seemed to add to the dissension between the two remaining cultures. Jesse's experience during high school involved tense racial relations, and she developed a negative attitude that turned into a double-edged sword. On the one hand, she acknowledged the aggressive role of the white man in steamrolling into the area and considering themselves superior to the Indians, forcing them to become Americanized. She viewed the attitude of the Indian as apathetic and hostile, which only served to further their oppressed state. She hated the Indians because they allowed themselves to be oppressed, and abhorred the Whites for being their oppressors. There was no way out. She detested the whole situation because it showed the despicable level to which humanity was willing to descend, and Jesse didn't want to acknowledge this in herself. It might be God's country, but it was Jesse's captor.

Plaik'ni Inn Resort, however, caused Jesse to come out of her brooding and take notice. It was an enchanted land unto itself, seemingly unaffected by local animosities. Named for its region in the highlands on the Sprague River, and quite a departure from anything Garrett and Claire Mason had done professionally, the bed and brunch is their version of a traditional inn, but Claire's not a morning person. She makes no apologies about telling folks who want breakfast before ten to get it themselves. Garrett's the morning glory, but doesn't cook much, and between the two of them they conduct the rhythm and direct the flow of everything in the twenty-five acres with a dance that has taken years to perfect. The B&B, store, tavern and family residence are all under the same roof of an architectural wonderland. No matter where you stand in any one square foot of this tour de force you are captivated by either the intriguing interior design and decor, or the handiwork of nature in the magnificent terrain outside through one of the many over-sized windows. Keith Reed, previous owner and developer of the property and present neighbor, claims each brick laid itself, and every room came into being through osmosis as no plans were ever completed. It was in this place that Jesse acquired a love of architecture and interior design. It was the most remarkable place she knew. Magical. Everyone who comes experiences it differently, but everyone who leaves comes back.

©2004 StoriesByEmail.com

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