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Finally, it was completed-- my reclusive retreat, hidden within a vast pine forest in Mississippi. My land title includes sixty-five acres of rolling hills, trees, grasslands, and a seemingly never-ending supply of flora and fauna. Utter seclusion at its finest.

I purchased the property some time ago with the intent of utilizing it as a hideout from the bustle of the city and the responsibilities of modern life. Being able to relax and reflect has always meant a lot to me, but these two commodities seemed difficult to attain in an urban setting. Before laying plans for my cabin, I spent weekends camping on the land; primitive tent camping, not using some metallic trailer to glorify and simplify my adventure. After discovering that these solitary interludes did, in fact, result in the desired effect, I began designing the structure I would use as my personal Nirvana.

Within months, building had begun. My design was seen, by some, to have many flaws. I continuously reminded people that this was my retreat and that it was never going to be anything palatial (to anyone but myself). Four rooms were what I wanted-- four simple rooms: a sitting room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen, inclusively. Plumbing, of course, was a necessity, but I battled with myself on the addition of electricity. Finally, I decided in its favor; electing to use only ceiling fans to cool the entire structure. In the kitchen and in the sitting room would be wood-burning stoves. If it were not for plumbing and ceiling fans, this would be quite a primitive arrangement.

Well, here I am, some time later. My getaway still inspires great thoughts. No telephones or televisions disturb me as I contemplate things, both great and small. The sounds of nature envelop me constantly. The calls of crows and blue jays awaken me in the morning; the chirp of crickets and the hoot of owls lull me to sleep at night. Through screened windows, the breeze can be heard rushing though the pine needles. Thunder can often be heard in the distance, many miles away.

My days here are serene. In the mornings, I take long hikes; in the afternoons, I sit, read, and ponder. During the evenings, I cook outdoors, grilling on an open pit and baking in a Dutch oven placed over hot charcoals on the ground. Certainly, this is how culinary masterpieces were created many years ago. By the time dinner is ready, the sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of pink, orange, and blue. Before my repast is over, stars brighten the night sky, amply providing the cabin's only exterior light.

Most evenings, after supper, are spent counting fireflies and taking census of visiting raccoons, opossums, and rabbits. An occasional shooting star wondrously complements the glorious backdrop. Often, the only human-made sound for miles emanates from me, as I swat thirsty, blood hungry, mosquitoes. No place is completely perfect.

Unfortunately, with a jolt, I awaken each morning to find that my cabin in the pines is nothing but a pipe dream. No birds awaken me, just the sound of an annoying alarm clock signaling the start of another day in Hades. My morning trek consists of traveling from my front door to the car, down the road, and onto an expansive concrete maze. Days consist of toil, evenings, of extreme exhaustion. Starlight? Surely, you jest. The streetlights eclipse even the brightest of stars. The only things that remain a constant are the blood-sucking mosquitoes-- perhaps the only link from my dream to reality.


The following comments are for "Does Paradise Exist?"
by CWMaxwell

That sounds like paradise to me. I like the idea of not having any disturbances anyways its more like an inpsiring dream to some of us. Thanks for painting a visual.

( Posted by: Mclellan17 [Member] On: August 22, 2005 )

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