How a Sloth Taught me to Enjoy Life Deeper
Revamping the day of rest.
Walking along the path in Manuel Antonio, Costa Rica, I came upon a wall of people blocking my path. Their heads were turned upward and their cameras were pointed toward the trees.
I looked up to see a blob of fur between two branches. The tourists were making cat and dog calls in hopes that the animal would turn towards them, as their guide explained that the fur belonged to a sloth.
After a few minutes the tourists became bored and walked away, disappointed that they didn’t get a better look. I wanted the chance to see the animal’s face, so I sat down on a rock and waited for movement.
I’d planned to only give it a few minutes. I was on a tight schedule. My travel companion had given me a half hour for my walk and a swim before we needed to leave the sanctuary to go to the butterfly garden, and then the final part of the day would be a bridge hike in the cloud forests.
Ten minutes passed, and still no movement. I went to leave, impatience setting in. A rustling sound from above stopped me. I looked up and the sloth had shifted his weight, and was slowly turning his head.
Dark rounded eyes peered down at me, staring into my own eyes. I stood as still as possible, worried he’d be frightened and would turn away. Minutes passed, and as if I were watching a slow motion movie, the sloth began to turn and climb down the tree.
Where other animals race from branch to branch and then sit quietly, staring at nature, this one had absolutely no need to rush. One minute passed, then two as the sloth bit by bit climbed down the tree, stopping once in awhile to check out what I was doing.
I looked at my watch. My time was up. I needed to return to my friend, but the chance to be alone, on this path, watching this incredible animal move with such grace and precision, held me spellbound, not wanting to leave.
Fifteen more minutes passed, and the tourists returned. The sloth, hid behind the tree trunk as they all rushed past, taking one more look into the tree branches to see if they could get a picture, and then they were gone.
The animal took a moment and walked, this time crossing my path, as he worked his way towards another tree. Each lift of his paws, was slow and methodical — a meditative walk.
I forgot about the time, and the need to rush, and as I watched his movement, and then thought about the speed of the tourists, who hadn’t taken the time to slow down to see what they hoped to see, I thought about how I lived my life.
On vacation, I was overpacking my day to fit in all the experiences, yet I was going so fast, that I was missing the moments. In my daily life, I race, I push, I run from activity to activity, overfilling each day, working hard, and trying to experience all I can from life.
The sloth’s movement reminded me of a Christian woman I met who had six children. I’d asked her how she did it, “Well, my dear,” she’d said, “there’s a reason on the seventh day even God rested. If you want to enjoy the most out of life, well then you better stop at least one day a week to restore.”
As I watched the sloth, I realized that it had been months since I just stopped and restored, even while on vacation I couldn’t slow down.
Watching a sloth, taking the time to be slow, to not race, to have intentional movements that were meditative had me feeling centered and balanced.
The sloth began to climb another tree — each lazy movement to the next. When I could no longer see him, I walked down the path, never having reached my original destination. My friend was upset that I was late. She wanted to get on the road, and onto the next place.
Instead, I told her that she could go on without me. I didn’t want to spend the day racing. I wanted to float in the beauty of the water, drink coconut milk on the beach, read my book, and take the hike I had started to go on, but this time I wanted to stroll, instead of racing so I could be back as quick as possible.
The fear of missing out sat with me for a few minutes, as we made our plans to meet up in a few hours. I questioned my decision, but it was the best one to make.
That day, I learned the greatest lesson, that it’s in the slowing down that we recognize how beautiful life can be. It’s in the moments when we recognize our surroundings and breathe them in, noticing the small details that we honor the gift of this incredible world and life.
It’s in the slowing, that we have time to restore, to feel gratitude, and to know that it isn’t the checking off of what we see or experience, but how present we are in those moments.
