In Costa Rica, I already feel more relaxed, a pressure lifted from me. The kind of pressure that, while in New York, brings me to tell my friends that I have to work, and I don’t have time to come to their dinner party. Here, I feel more freedom to think, to reflect, I feel more space around me and sense more space within me. 

And still, despite this extra space and lightened pressure, I feel the need to work. My friend Maya, who I am traveling with, leaves to go lay out on the beach while I lay out a long list of check boxes for myself. I am not on vacation after all, I am on a mission.   

As I work, a shifty green line on the hill outside of the window catches my eye. My intrigue pulls me closer and soon I am outside, crouched on the ground, fixated on an incessant stream of ants carrying bits of green leaves. They walk fast, hurried… leaves–leaves—leaves… I wonder to myself what the inside of their lair looks like and imagine a massive ant empire, tunnel after chamber, deep within the ground, with viridian clad walls. I am mesmerized by them and like a curious, inconsiderate child, I pick up one of the larger floating leaves, bringing the ant with it. It flails its many legs, and clenches its jaws around that leaf as if it were its ticket to heaven. 

I think to myself, they are in paradise! They have the beach just down the road, there’s a plethora of fruits falling from the sky, and yet they don’t stop marching. Do they all really need to work so hard? Pondering this question, I go back inside to finish my own work and after a few hours of thinking about how hypocritical I am… check—check—check… I think to myself, “Enough of this!” Slowly, I close the lid of my computer and open the door to the outside world, to join my friend at Playa Hermosa, the ‘beautiful beach.’