It's nearly 11 pm and I'm at work, sweating away on my pro bono appeal. The work is interesting and I'm learning about an area of law I'm wholly unfamiliar with.
And yet, this where I want to be.
I'm daydreaming of Costa Rica. Or rather, the person I was in Costa Rica. Something about the life I lived there, its lazy rhythm, left me sanguine and extremely mindful.
Looking at this photo, I remember the moment clearly: I insisted on being physically on the beach at every sunset. I'd arrive early and set up camp on my towel, joined by some of the beach dogs. I'd drink beer, chat with whoever joined me, write in my journal and wait for the light show begin. The skies hit these pink and purple hues I've never seen anywhere else. When it was well and fully dark, I'd walk back to my cabina, flashlight in hand - serenaded by thousands of little frogs.
I don't think I can live in that zone, but I'd like to at least create pockets where every waking moment isn't filled with a scrolling ticker of 'to do' items. I want that Costa Rican feeling back: no commitments, no deadlines, weightlessness.