(Sabbatical, day 21)

Last week, on the third day of a much-needed vacation to Vancouver Island, I sat across from my husband underneath a blue umbrella at an outdoor restaurant. The server had just poured me glass of white and Bruce a glass of red. We clinked our glasses. We’d made it. We were finally on vacation and unwinding after an emotionally difficult year. Then, without warning, an insistent series of questions threatened to derail my bliss. Is this the right thing to do? I’m spending all this money on travel. Was it wise for me to pull the plug on a busy coaching practice, return thousands of dollars in retainers to clients, and leave without knowing when (or frankly, if) I’ll ever return?

I looked at my husband across the table. After five months of chemotherapy, his beautiful silver hair and handsome smile were returning. So was the sense of humor I fell in love with all those years ago.

Hell YES, this sabbatical was the right thing to do. Case closed. We moved on to dinner.

But the questions weren’t through with me. Several times over the next few days, the same inquiry presented itself, albeit in different forms. Am I being stupid? Am I deluding myself? Am I overlooking long-term financial consequences in favor of short-term fun?

The self-protective part of me, the part that has diligently set aside retirement funds from a skimpy writer’s income for 35 years, was worried. It needed reassurance that I—we—had made the right decision. It would poke me in the ribs at the most random times—while walking the beach, strolling through Butchart Gardens, going to sleep at night. Is this smart? Wise? Right?

But each time another part of me, a part that resides in a much deeper, more mysterious section of my psyche, responded. Yes, it would answer. I don’t know where we’re heading, but right here, right now, I know this one thing to be true: this sabbatical is exactly right.

This inner knowing despite all rational evidence to the contrary has happened a few times in my life—not many, but enough to matter. When I was fired at age 23 from the only job I’d ever had and chose to become self-employed as a writer. When I left all my family and long-time friends behind and moved to Colorado. When I left a successful writing career to build a coaching practice. Each move, though risky on the surface, was something I knew I HAD to do, and I made those moves without fear. I didn’t know where these decisions would lead but that was almost beside the point. What I did know to be true was that these were the right next steps for me at the time.

As I think about this now, I’m realizing I’d like my entire sabbatical to be experienced in this way–by taking one right next step after the other. Instead of looking six months out at what I might do when I return to work, I’m thinking about what my soul might want once I finish writing this.

Wow.

Just typing that last sentence filled me with peace and calm.

So much of my life has been spent setting goals, creating projects, and pursuing checklists, many of which went absolutely nowhere. How might my life have been different if I’d stopped more regularly to listen to my own inner knowing?

Now is my chance to find out.

So, here’s my publicly-stated-so-that-I-might-be-held-accountable goal: instead of crafting a life around something that may or may not feel right six months from now, I plan to follow what is right for me in the next hour or day or two. By following the breadcrumb trail of inner truths, I’m hoping my sabbatical will lead me exactly where I need to go.