I’m on a sabbatical right now. Away from my day job for a year, I can do whatever I want for the next 365 days, every day. The possibilities are, well, immensely satisfying.
I don’t have to wake up to an alarm. I can sleep as my body needs, finally listening to its pleas for rest.
I can do the same to my mind, releasing it from its short leash to let it roam with ideas, dwell on some to bring them to fruition, do something with them, share them.
I can be more emotionally available to my family. This means I can be there for my mum, without the stress and guilt of needing to be somewhere else, when she has to go for her cataract operation and be the one to give her post-op care. I can stop being cranky, from exhaustion, when talking to my dad. Instead, I can listen, really listen to every word he wants to say to me in his slow, measured pace.
In this year ahead, I can read, write, listen, feel, think to my heart’s abandon. I can be productive on projects that are dear to me and have gone on the backburner. I can open myself to random people and places that aren’t so random after all, if only I let them unfold as they will. I can explore, attempt, fail, try again, and then try again. I can understand. I can connect. I can breathe.
Fields are left fallow every couple of years. Animals hibernate. This sabbatical feel like the most natural thing in the world, a time to regenerate myself.