A sabbatical? A sabbatical!
Why did it take me so long to find a word that accurately describes this year, while also giving me a sense of validation and affirmation of my time off?
As I finished up a FaceTime with my mom and stepdad, who were trying to talk me out of getting a dog in these last months of my time off, it suddenly struck me: I've been overlooking a chance to truly understand what this year is really all about.
This is my sabbatical.
Sabbaticals have most recently been reserved for university faculty who take time off from teaching to rest, research or travel. But “sabbatical” actually comes from the word “sabbath",” which, according to several religious texts, refers to God’s day of rest. Whether you are Christian or Jewish, Greek, Italian, Hungarian, French or Spanish, this is a known concept “characterized by rest or cessation from labor or tillage.”
Why did it take me so long to find a word that accurately describes this year, while also giving me a sense of validation and affirmation of my time off?
To my credit, I have done a lot of the things I set out to do this year: I applied to grad school, I started my art business (while you’re here, you could buy my art!), I wrote about teaching and other things that plague my mind, I updated my LinkedIn profile, I travelled abroad, I visited family, I learned more about holistic approaches to my health, I read dozens of books, I became more civically and politically engaged, I volunteered, I babysat and nannied, I took lots of deep breaths. This year has been truly informative, creative, and expansive.
But none of this is enough to stave off the restlessness and existentialism that comes with sabbaticals, or worse, the fear of becoming lazy and complacent and regretting all the time you spent on your couch.
And, as the panic of starting grad school 3,000 miles away from my beloved boyfriend settles in, it is only natural that I would start searching pet adoption sites to preemptively fill that void. My mother knows me well, and she asked me to sit with the discomfort, instead of reacting to it with an impassioned Google search for a furry companion.
She suggested I explore alternative ways to spend my time over the next few months that could be both exciting and healing, while also helping me prepare for the next significant life transition. I took her advice, and found that I’ve actually already accomplished much of what’s recommended for those taking time off in between chapters.
According to Timetastic.co.uk (a human’s essential guide to GOOD LIVING!), here are 10 “fun” things to do on sabbatical:
1 Take a road trip (I did a couple of short-ish road trips north from San Francisco to Mendocino, Carmel-by-the-sea, and Ukiah)
2 Go around the world (I went to Rwanda and Nigeria in October, and New Zealand in December/January).
3 Learn something you can only do abroad (I drove on the left side of the road, I discovered what Rwandans mean when they shout “mzungu!”, and I learned that McDonalds is the one establishment that stays open on Christmas day in New Zealand)
4 Learn a new skill (I learned how to paint on my iPad with Procreate, create linocuts with Jess, and do breathwork and meditation on my own)
5 Do some volunteer work (I volunteered as a teacher’s assistant at nearby Title I elementary school for 3rd through 5th grade classrooms)
6 Tackle a fitness challenge (after a knee injury, I replaced long runs with becoming a pilates regular, shoutout #BODYROK on Polk street)
7 Write a book (ok, this is an overachiever’s idea and I resent it)
8 Start a blog (well…this?).
9 Develop a personal brand (eviebirdseye.com)
10 Spend more time with family (I went to Florida for my grandfather’s 90th birthday, I visited my other grandparents in Atlanta, I hosted family over thanksgiving, I spent more time with my west-coast bound sister, brother-in-law, and step-brother).
So, according to Google, it’s clearly time to get a dog. Or become a certified yoga teacher. Feel free to weigh in in the comments below.
But in all seriousness, it has taken me nine months to get to this level of clarity on just what it is I am doing. I remember the times in college that I harbored a quiet jealousy of my friend, Rachel, who turned her phone off at sunset on Friday until sunset on Saturday in accordance with Shabbat. My girlfriends would communicate her whereabouts in our own group chat: “Rachel spotted in dining hall eating an omelette!” My envy stemmed from the fact that Rachel had grown up with clarity around what it means to rest. For me, Saturdays were about pancakes at 8am, sports, homework and violin practice (all key cornerstones of a very wonderful and privileged childhood). This is not to say that we shouldn’t aspire to busy schedules and various paths to self-improvement, but instead, to remind us (me) of the sanctity of rest.