A Week of Rest, Reflection, and Reconnection in Sri Lanka

A Week of Rest, Reflection, and Reconnection in Sri Lanka

Almost a week has passed since I arrived in Sri Lanka, embarking on a visit that I had both long anticipated and desperately needed. This short break from work has felt like a gentle reset, a chance to fully immerse myself in the beauty and rhythm of life here. Yet, it hasn’t been all lightness and ease, and perhaps that’s what makes it all the more meaningful.

One of the first promises I made to myself before leaving was to truly disconnect from work. I decided that checking emails would be limited to the rare occasion, and even then, only if absolutely necessary. I wanted this time to be sacred, a genuine step away from the usual demands of my professional life. It hasn’t always been easy to resist the habit of staying plugged in, but choosing to let go of that mental weight has granted me a rare and welcome stillness. This intentional pause has allowed me to be fully present, savoring the quiet moments and appreciating the slower pace.

At home, life has been simple and restful. My days have been filled with lots of reflection, long stretches of relaxation, and the comforting joy of being surrounded by familiar sights and sounds. I’ve spent hours doing very little, and there’s a beauty in that stillness. Watching the rains has become one of my favorite pastimes. The heavy, rhythmic downpours have been both calming and cleansing, turning the world outside into a lush, green wonderland. The sound of the rain against the roof, the smell of the wet earth, and the sight of raindrops dancing in puddles have added a meditative quality to my days here. There’s something soothing about being sheltered indoors, just observing the rain’s embrace of the land.

The highlight of my week has been the simple yet memorable moments: sharing home-cooked local dishes, each meal a burst of flavor and nostalgia. While I did dine out with friends a couple of times, most of my meals have been lovingly prepared at home. The familiarity of the spices, the comfort of a warm curry, and the delight of fresh roti have reminded me of all the flavors I miss when I’m away.

However, this visit hasn’t been without its somber realities. My mother-in-law’s health remains a heavy presence in the household. Since her stroke on August 3rd, she has been bedridden and unable to speak, a shadow of the vibrant person she once was. My wife has been remarkably strong, spending countless hours caring for her mother. It hasn’t been much fun at home, as there is a sense of worry and sadness that lingers in the air. Despite the emotional strain, my wife has somehow managed to look after me, too, in her gentle, loving way. Her resilience and ability to balance the demands of caregiving with nurturing our connection have moved me deeply.

Amid these heavier moments, I’ve found ways to practice self-care and experience the unique comforts that Sri Lanka has to offer. A few days ago, I treated myself to a pedicure at a local beauty nail spa. The experience felt like a small act of self-love, a way to unwind and be taken care of. Tomorrow, I have a head and shoulder massage scheduled at a renowned spa in town. Just the thought of the soothing relief that awaits has me feeling excited and grateful for these moments of indulgence.

Every time I return to this island, I am struck by a familiar feeling — a longing to stay, to let this place envelop me in its warmth for just a little longer. The pull to make this home again is strong, even as I know that life here comes with its own challenges. After living abroad for the past two years, I’ve grown accustomed to certain luxuries and conveniences that aren’t always available in Sri Lanka. Yet, there is a trade-off: the simplicity and groundedness of life here hold a charm that the luxuries abroad cannot replace.

This week has been a lesson in embracing both the light and the shadows. It has been a time to rest and reflect, but also a reminder of the family bonds that keep us strong, even when circumstances are difficult. As I listen to the rain and think about the days ahead, I feel grateful for the quiet moments, for the love that surrounds me, and for the chance to be here, present and connected. Sometimes, even when life is far from perfect, the simplest things — the sound of rain, the warmth of a meal, the care of a loved one — can bring the greatest sense of peace.