Albuquerque International Balloon Festival – New Mexico, U.S.A. Hundreds of hot air balloon burners flare just before dawn, tall flames licking the darkness. I point frozen cheek bones and a bare, numb forehead toward the nearest. On a frigid desert morning, fire is a reminder of the thawing warmth to come with sunrise. And it is our only light.
Our pilot is young. His name is Moses, like the prophet. He previews our journey and orients us to our balloon–still a sea of deep blue fabric rippling across the dewy grass, basket resting on its side. I’m invited to help hold the balloon’s gaping mouth while an industrial fan fills it with cold air before the crew sparks the fire that will stand it up. Stiff, cold fingers hold tight. I’m thrilled. It’s my first time.
When Moses explains that he will have very little control over the balloon once afloat–his primary levers being lift and descent, not speed and direction–I pause. Where the balloon drifts and where it lands will largely be determined by the wind current, he adds. No, that can’t be right, I think. Who could be comfortable with so little control? I look around incredulously at the balloons ascending around me, the fire in their bellies lighting up the sky like lightbulbs, crowds left on the ground waving, cheering. I’m sure that he’s exaggerating for effect. I’m certain.
Just like I am certain that I went about it all wrong–this career sabbatical thing that finds me with time to tick off a bucket list item: participating in the mass ascension at the largest hot air balloon festival in the world. Without advance planning, formal goals, or desired outcomes, I just walked right into my sabbatical. No ready and set; just go. Lift off.
Early on, I thought to search for the definitive book or essay on sabbatical, one that plumbs its roots in the Jewish “shmita”–I’m a history and culture buff–and lays out the original road map for how exactly this all is to play out. I never did it, though. I didn’t want to know how unorthodox my career break really was or to be reminded of its hasty start. I just wanted to make it count.
Making my career sabbatical count is one thing that I have learned to do well over the past few months. Here’s what I have found to work:
Take a Break, a Real Break
Within days of launching my sabbatical, Jabu cautioned, in that way of his, to beware the impulse to get immediately back to work. I would be tempted to scour LinkedIn and comb my network for new opportunities. I would have an urge to be productive, in that way of mine, to crowd out any space for rest and reflection with strategic planning and goal-setting. He was right. I struggled, at first. Being away from work compelled me to search for work. I quickly discovered that I would need to unlearn this instinct. In order for me to truly reboot, I would need to shut down.
Introduce some structure, but not too much
I’ve written elsewhere about how my goal of summiting a “fourteener” became an organizing theme for my sabbatical. That and reading, writing, and photography helped me to structure my sabbatical just enough to stay active and ward off lethargy, but not enough to foreclose on the insight and imagination brought on by free time.
For me, a standard sabbatical day looked something like this:
Of course, I never thought twice about jettisoning this schedule for alternative plans, and on days when sleep left me before 7am, I would even hop in the car to catch sunrise in the mountains. The point was that I had a template for my days that I could fall back on, one that was loose enough to modify or ditch altogether depending on circumstances or my mood. It turned out to be priceless, helping me feel tethered and stable during a period of uncertainty, and sometimes, discomfort.
Find Your Wind Current; It’s ok to be Swept Away
Moses, of course, was right.
The balloon lifted weightlessly, buoyed by the rising heat. Once aloft, Moses periodically sparked the fire to keep us up and to test the flow and tug of the wind currents. When we found a current we liked, we stayed there and let it take us where it would, at its speed.
My sabbatical, unplanned as it was, had no goal save to re-set professionally and personally mid-career. Not all sabbaticals are as open-ended, and they need not be. Take, for example, the academic sabbatical that results in a work for publication.
“If you surrender to the wind, you can ride it.” -Toni Morrison
But for those sabbaticals, like mine, without a pre-defined outcome, there is reward in allowing yourself to feel out the currents, to find one or more that work, and let them blow you where they will. Sabbaticals, regardless of their intent, are ideal for purposeful drifting.
Months into my sabbatical, I read a book called Designing Your Life. The authors argue that we all contain many versions of ourselves, many paths that our lives and work may take. There is, in other words, no one single “thing” that we should be doing. To find the best path for ourselves at any stage of our lives, we must imagine all of our many options and try them out. For me, initially, that meant allowing myself to be swept away by a lifelong passion for writing and imagining it as a potential career. My sabbatical gave me the space and safety to try out this version of myself. This was scary, at first, but in order to float the balloon, you must test the currents.
From time to time, Moses communicated via cell phone with his crew on the ground. They were, I came to discover, trailing us in a van, keeping tabs on our location via GPS. After some coordinating, it was agreed that we would allow the balloon to land in a field ahead. Our wind current would take us there, and then Moses would orchestrate our descent. As we approached, the field became larger and clearer, it’s edges defined. Moses released air from the vents atop our ballon and slowly, gently, we fell back down to earth.
Whenever I tell people that I am on sabbatical, they first ask whether I am an academic–no–and then they ask how long my sabbatical will be. The second question used to trip me up–I had no idea how long my sabbatical would be. I gave various answers, most having to do with my sabbatical being as long as I need it to be.
Now, nearly a year in, I’m beginning to see the end of this journey. I’ve hiked three fourteeners and more than 100 mountain miles. I’ve waded through an ocean of wild flowers, had lunch beside waterfalls, met new friends, and made a home in Colorado. I’ve devoured books that have been sitting on my to-read list forever and taken up regular writing again. And, for my own sake, I’ve finally learned to let go of that which I cannot change and neither want nor need.
By year’s beginning I expect to resume working. My focus is sharper these days and my outlook new. I’ve begun to shape in my mind personal and professional goals that I would never have dreamt last year. I rocked my sabbatical; now it’s time to let this balloon land.
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