Melt Into the Moment

From our hotel balcony, a dozen palm trees swayed with the breeze. Each crown held an iguana. Each one claiming it their own. In the tree directly in front of us, the largest of all. My wife named him Larry.

Every morning, Larry performed the same ritual. He climbed to his sun throne, settled into the green branches, and disappeared into stillness. Fully relaxed. Arms hanging. Eyes half-lidded. Quiet. Bathing in light.

Hours passed, and he didn’t rush. He simply received the day.

By afternoon, he’d descend slowly and deliberately to feed. At dusk, he returned to the safety of the palms. Night lifted him back into the leaves, away from birds and other hungry mouths. A simple rhythm. No wasted motion. No panic. No hurry.

Watching him, I felt the ache of our habit of sprinting past the very moments we claim to want. The Yogis teach that when a creature rests without strain, unhurried, and un-anxious, awareness widens and the mind clears. Larry modeled this effortlessly. Still and present.

We are meant to pause, breathe, and receive life rather than chase it endlessly. We are meant to step into the light and be still long enough to feel it. To let the wind touch our skin. To let the noise pass by, and hurry nowhere. To melt into the moment.