When
the frenzy and lunacy of Life pounds me too harshly, I sail off to a
special place. If my little ship’s autopilot had words rather than
numbers, I would be setting my course toward “simplicity” and
“serenity.”
That
destination is a little cove where time may not stand still, but it
definitely meanders. Everything here is natural, authentic and
elemental. The three houses spaced along the shoreline
were hand built by their
owners. No contractors were used – instead there
were brothers and uncles and friends.
I
needed to remind myself that there was a place untroubled by disease
and riots. I sought equilibrium in an unbalanced world. My quest
was to find peace amidst the chaos.
And
I found it. Here, in this
timeless lagoon where the Jungle meets the Sea, the
beautiful children still paddle by in their tiny, father-made
cayucos. The women still sing hymns on the Sunday
porches. The
men still use simple hand tools, whose sounds echo across the water
and speak the language of masculinity.
