“Amazing things happen when you introduce your body to your mind,” read the cover of the LaSource brochure that I perused while on the plane. In jest I thought, “Hello Ms. Body, I’d like you to meet Ms. Mind. Now I know you’ve been adversaries for some time. I’m tired of you vying for my undivided attention. I need for you to connect this week so that amazing things can happen.”

A limousine awaited my arrival at the airport. I just figured out what each of the buttons controlled when we entered the gate of the property. The winding road led past a little golf course, tennis courts and a few small pavilions. “Is this all LaSource property?” I asked the driver, noticing that there wasn’t another hotel in sight.

“Yes, all 40 acres of it,” he replied as if he were the owner.

Located on the southernmost point of Grenada along Pink Gin Beach, this 100-room resort hosts intoxicating views of the city capital of St. George’s located on the other side of the crescent shoreline. With exception to the nine Junior Suites that have a separate sitting area, all of the rooms are identical. Room categories are based solely upon location and view. The gardenview rooms are located in the second building, which sits behind the beachfront building like an adoring sibling. Perched on a hill, this posterior placement provides a peek-a-boo view over the rooftops of the beachfront units or the gardens in between, and some rooms have an open terrace as opposed to a private balcony. All of the rooms host a clean and timeless look, with hand-carved mahogany four-poster king beds or double beds and Italian marble throughout.

Looking at the chalkboard outlining activities for the day written in light blue, yellow and pink bubbly letters, I felt like I had been transported back in time to my days of summer camp. Ms. Body joked, “I wonder if they have a buddy system or if we’ll be required to take a swimming test to be permitted outside of the buoys.”

Ms. Mind retorted, “There is literally an activity every hour on the hour. Ms. Body, you’re not up to this!”

The Type A overachiever should plan an extended vacation, or bring along a personal assistant. I can see it now, a persnickety woman, hair pulled neatly in a bun, wearing sensible loafers and chasing after a guest with a notepad in hand. “Okay Mr. Iwanski, you’ve got a massage at 9, followed by fencing at 10, waterskiing at 11 and then just a short break for a frozen LaSource Special at the bar before heading to your sailing lesson…” One must really understand the concept of not trying to do it all, and simply realize that there’s always something going on if one ever happens to become, ugh, gasp, sick of sitting on the beach and relaxing by the pool.

This conclusion hit me on the second day when I realized how stressed I felt trying to get to the Relaxation Pavilion on time for meditation. Strolling through the nine-hole golf course, I could see the white-peaked roof of the pavilion in the distance. The last to arrive, I quickly sat down on the wooden floor and assumed the lotus position. Gauzy curtains hanging from the ceiling clutched the soft breeze long enough for me to catch a glimpse of the Asian-style pond and fountain accenting the exterior of this small building. Even though my palms faced upward, I hadn’t quite grasped the idea of slowing down.

The teacher, Michael French, said in a soothing tone, “Take a deep breath in.”

Ms. Body thought, “Wow, I can’t breathe this slowly. I’m still out of breath from rushing here.”

“Now let it all go; release all of that toxic stress,” he continued.

Letting out a stream of air, Ms. Mind added, “Stress, that’s my nickname. Do I ever feel stressed at work. I bet a ton of papers are piling up on my desk right now. Oh, I forgot to send out that email before I left. I wonder if I’ll like my seaweed wrap tomorrow.”

As if psychic, Michael further instructed us to leave all of our thoughts behind and simply focus on the sounds and life around us. To my inner children I commanded sternly, “Quiet, both of you.”

Guiding us through the meditation, Michael’s profound ability to help one escape external distractions in order to reach a place of tranquility proved mystical. His knowledge surpassed that of the typical resort yogi.

While one cannot expect expert guidance from all of the instruction, there’s definitely a variety of activities and someone there to give pointers, whether improving your tennis serve, golf swing or sharpening your archery and fencing skills. Watersports ran the full gamut as well. After breaking in the kayak, Hobie Cat and doing a bit of waterskiing, I looked at my watch and noticed that it was almost time for the dive outing (also included for no additional fee). Thoughts of how tired I felt were suddenly interrupted by an outburst from Ms. Mind, “She called me fat!”

“Well she called me stupid first!” retorted Ms. Body.

“Listen you two,” I reprimanded, “I need for you two to play nicely together. I’ve got to go scuba diving now and don’t have time for this nonsense. And don’t touch anything.”

Fifty feet below the water’s surface, we swam over acres of coral reefs colored in vibrant oranges, purples and gold. A little more air flowed through the regulator when encountering lobster the size of small countries in the South Pacific and a moray eel—thankfully, they didn’t touch a thing.

I didn’t hear any complaints from Ms. Mind or Ms. Body about the included daily spa treatment. The spa uses renowned Phytomer products from France to loofa, massage and detoxify. One can choose treatments ranging from a Swedish massage, salt scrubs and facials to holistic treatments such as Reflexology and Chandra, a technique used to massage the head, neck and shoulders. I selected energy oil for my aromatherapy massage, figuring that I would need a little in order to participate in more activities as well as do a little sightseeing around Grenada.

Grenada’s lush hills are flavored with aromatic spices. The scent of cloves, cocoa and nutmeg wafts through the air, not to mention fills little decorative baskets at Market Square. While coconuts didn’t seem to be a big commodity, there’s a law in Grenada that no hotel can be taller than a palm tree. While I’m no horticulturalist, I would guess that the only palm trees larger than LaSource were manmade for the movie “Jurassic Park.” Maybe LaSource architects were counting the palms growing in the rain forest on the island’s highest peak at a whopping 2,756 feet above sea level. But as my grandma used to say, “There are more loopholes in the government than in a sofa-top doily.” If they are breaking the law, they already know their rights, number one being, at LaSource, you have the right to remain silent.

While I only found time to do most of the activities once, my last day at LaSource, I made it a priority to go to Michael French’s meditation again. Slowly I strolled to the pavilion and even stopped along the path to sniff a Frangipani flower. Early for the class, I sat down on the floor, simply enjoying the feel of the cool breeze against my slightly sunburned skin. There wasn’t a peep out of Ms. Mind or Ms. Body. We all just sat there quietly, finally friends.