Itacaré Travelogue

April 14, 2026

Let me set the scene. I’m propped up on a pillow in bed at the pousada I’ll have to check out of in 2 hours, typing this instead of scrolling on Instagram —- a habit I’m tying to re-channel into something far more grounding and worthwhile. Something a lot like this — the words you’re reading now.

My inner world feels like chaos. There’s just so much to do, organize, follow up on, create, stay on top of that my mind doesn’t rest anymore. I miss my restful mind. And yet, when I glance away from this screen even for a second, I feel this gush of relief. To my right, right now, is a patio with two cushioned lounge chairs, surrounded by palms and tropical flowers, birds resting on the branches. To my left, the swimming pool is rippling in the sunshine through the gorgeous antique corner window in my room.

The light is just right and it all just makes me feel good. I’m not sure I know why exactly, only that it does. And just noticing what feels good is my life raft right now, a bridge to what’s right there, already here. A reminder to live the life right in front of me. I could go take a dip in that pool. Why don’t I? I could go sit on those cushioned lounge chairs with the birds. Why don’t I?

I don’t because I let one more thing get in the way. I choose something else first. But here’s the thing. Time is ticking. Those chairs to my right, that pool to my left, this light that makes me feel so good won’t be there in two hours time for my enjoyment. They’re there for me now, inviting me to enjoy my life while it’s happening. Not later. Now.

I just glanced back over at the pool, letting those last words sink in. Tears sprang to my eyes. They’re still springing. What they’re speaking is: it’s time to stop doing it all and all at once. It’s time to go in order. The right order. What is right in front of me? What feels like an arm extended in my direction, pulling me in? Not the arm that traps and disconnects, like social media, but the one that comes from the life that’s just right there, the moments I won’t get back when they’re gone.

There’s a woman in the room above making a sound that reminds me of the sound you make at the doctors when they say “open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Say “ahhhhh.” She just stopped. What was that? Why? Now the leaves to the right are rustling in the breeze saying “hushhhhhh.” I hear men talking in Portuguese. I hear a click-clack, then a hollow sound of emptiness, like an empty pot being nudged.

This is me grounding. This is me tuning in to this moment. Being in it. With it. What I really need. Trucks passing. A motorcycle rumble next. Faint music. My own exhale.

It doesn’t matter what I say here. What I pick up on. What I put down. What matters is that I keep doing this. I keep grounding. I keep returning when I stray too far from what’s right here. Right here is where I want to be.

Right here feels so good. I’ll go enjoy it now.