Be Here Now? I'm Trying.
¿Qué estás pensando? (What are you thinking?)
I ask my tranquilo Nica friend as we dig into the shrimp pasta we just cooked together. He’d caught the shrimp only a few hours earlier, fresh from the sea.
Ahorita? Nada. (Now? Nothing.)
How is it possible that you aren’t thinking about anything? I tease him.
He smiles, and then explains:
When I am working, I am working.
When I am with my friends, I am with my friends.
When I am surfing, I am surfing.
This state of zen sounds like the exact thing every “spiritual” seeker in the Global North seems to be chasing with calming essential oils, overpriced retreats, or the latest Yoga with Adrienne session.
And honestly? It will probably never be fully achievable under the capitalist umbrella, at least for me.
As much as I admire his ability to “be here now” with zero effort, I’ve accepted that I’ll probably never truly nail it. I’ve lived abroad for over a decade, traveled a ton, and have friends scattered across time zones. There’s always someone awake to chat with. Every time I open WhatsApp, I’m gently pulled out of my present surroundings and into some other dimension with a long-lost friend.
Same with my work. My clients live all over the world. At any given hour, I might get a ping about a broken plugin or a panicked email about a website glitch—another little tug away from the here and now.
And when I’m not sending friends memes, troubleshooting defunct websites or surfing? I’m watching YouTube videos on how to expand my skills so AI doesn’t make me obsolete, practicing my Spanish, or learning about healthier relationship dynamics. There is so much to learn, and I love learning!
With so much stimulation, my thoughts have a way of piling up just as I’m trying to rest. But this chaos, the one with too many time zones, too many notifications, and too many tabs open, is also what gives me the freedom to live the life of my dreams. That is, as long as I don’t get carried away.
Which is one of the reasons I love Nicaragua, and why I love spending time with my Nica friend. His simple approach to life reminds me to take small, intentional steps in shaping my own: put the phone down more often, get comfortable with silence at the dinner table, resist the urge to fill every empty space with music, podcasts, or WhatsApp audio notes, and accept that swaying in a hammock can absolutely count as productivity. Rest is productive.
Your environment either supports this kind of unwinding… or it doesn’t. And Nicaragua, in its own imperfect way, reminds me of this daily. Things here don’t always “work” the way they do in Europe or the US. ATMs refuse to read my debit card, sending me 30 minutes down the road to the next one. Power cuts out midday, pushing me to trek through the heat toward a café with a generator. And then there’s “Nica time”, where time estimates are more of a suggestion than a reality. It’s frustrating sometimes, I won’t lie.
But the longer I’m here, the easier it gets to loosen my grip. Perhaps that’s the lesson all along—to release the chokehold the hustle once had on me and let life move at its own rhythm.
And when I finally surrender, magic never seizes to rush in. The sky erupts in pink and orange fire, a wave unrolls just for me, a bright crab scurries across my path, and a softness settles over my shoulders.
I carry gratitude for Berlin, LA, Tucson, Phoenix, and all the stamps in my passport. But not a day goes by that I don’t think; I am so glad to be HERE now👇
