I am sitting in the sun as I write. I can hear woodpeckers but cannot seem to spot them. There is a light breeze that brings with it the heavy scent of lilacs. It sounds bucolic, though I am in the middle of the city. I am trying to sort out a wide assortment of feelings from a chair in my backyard, which has included me ugly crying in it. I have just completed week two of my sabbatical. 

These early days of my time off have caused both joy and discomfort. I am grateful for the gift that it is to have this sizeable chunk of time off. I feel supported and encouraged. And, right now I am also out-of-sorts. During my last week we held a funeral for a community member named Barry and learned of the death of another, named Phil. Grief upon grief, which I will attend to, except I’m used to grieving over time in the context of our community. I really miss The Dale. Then my daughter Cate moved out. I am excited for her and deeply proud of this step she has taken. This too is true: I really miss being in close proximity to her. 

As I navigate this time, I realize that I am used to the rhythm of rest that I have held for years. This includes Fridays as my Sabbath and August as vacation. When July rolls around I can feel my body anticipating the cessation of work during the dogdays of summer. But this year? Well, I don’t think my body understands exactly what’s going on. A number of people have suggested that I am likely more tired than I realize, which I can hear. Believe me when I say I know having this time is a privilege and I really want to settle into it and the rest it will provide.  

Part of the challenge right now is holding so many seemingly disparate feelings at the same time. I have to remind myself of what I often say to others: two things can be true at once. I can be grateful and sad. I can know there is wisdom in a decision and still find it uncomfortable. I can want to get out of the way and desire to be in the middle of the action. I can long for connection and solitude. Life is not a straight line.  

My counsellor and I talked about a phrase that I might say to myself when I am tipping toward anxiety about my absence from The Dale. I came up with this, “No matter what you do or don’t do, you are beloved.” I close my eyes and turn my head to the sky to say just that. The busyness in my brain begins to slow and my senses are heightened. I think of Barry and Phil in a way that makes me smile. I consider my love and esteem for The Dale Girls. I know that I will see Cate soon. Dion and I get to spend far more time together and he’s helping me ask good questions about this sabbatical. I am experiencing the care of The Dale community in a different way and know that they are also taking care of one another.  

The sun has moved its position. Occasionally a cloud passes over it and I sit in its shadow. A squirrel is digging in a container that I am about to plant some flowers in. Next week Cate and I will be going on an adventure of a trip. I just turned 50. This time is not moving fast. I imagine this means it has more to teach me about being present to the moment. Week three now begins.  

Postscript: Writing is an important part of the way I process, and so I will occasionally share about this sabbatical journey here on my blog. My sabbatical includes a commitment to be intentionally off-line about 98% of the time, and so I look forward to interacting more upon my return in September.