Coming Home to My True Self: Why I'm taking a 6-month sabbatical

I feel like I am waking from a deep slumber.?

But not the kind of slumber where, upon waking, you?know?you had a phenomenal night’s sleep. This waking, instead, feels like I am crawling out of a steady restlessness.

Earlier this fall, I participated in a multi-week course called the Decade Game. During the course, we playfully explored what the next 10 years might have in store for us, and ?what we might want to bring to it. In all honesty, each class was agitating. There was talk about bigness, grandeur, goal setting, and living your biggest life possible. Every time that language was used, I recoiled.?

“Is there something wrong with me?” I wondered. “I used to love dreaming big!”

The Decade Game was a 40th birthday gift—one I was excited to embark on. Turning 40 has given me a natural pause to reflect and get curious about what the next chapter of my life could look like. At the start of the course, we explored our life up till now and had to give that life a title, like a memoir.?

My title?

The Hungry Ghost: One woman’s restless quest for fulfillment through grand external validation.

No wonder the idea of grandiose goal setting made me recoil. Those three words—"the hungry ghost"—struck deep. In Buddhism, the hungry ghost represents the aching ego, forever yearning for fulfillment through endless consumption. The great irony? It remains eternally empty.

On my 40th birthday, out of curiosity, I pulled out my box of journals and rummaged through until I found one from my 30th birthday. And as I began reading it, sure enough, I found I was asking the exact same question on the edge of my 30th birthday that I have spent the better part of the last decade searching for an answer to.

The question varies here and there, but it’s always some version of, "What will bring me the most fulfillment in life and work?”

As I sat on the threshold of 40 and imagined the years to come, questions began brewing in the back of my mind about my quest for fulfillment. For the past 10 years, I have checked numerous boxes that I was convinced would yield not only fulfillment but an infinite supply of it.

Successful business? Check.

Exponentially compounded growth? Check.

Being in the top 1% of income earners as a coach? Check.

Dream house? Check.

A bit of a status in my small corner of the world? Check.

Fulfillment? No check.?Ugh.

And if I'm being brutally honest with myself, I’ve wondered for a few years now if I’ve been living further and further from my True Self. I checked all the boxes. I was convinced they would seal the deal for me, only to discover the boxes never go away and they don’t stay checked for long.?

As Maureen Murdock describes in her book,?The Heroine's Journey, I climbed the ladder only to discover there was no true summit—not only was the ladder propped against the wrong wall, but none of us are equipped to fulfill the empty promises of capitalist society. In a world where success is measured by endless growth and ever-expanding wealth, it's clear that society itself has become its own hungry ghost.

This slumber I am awakening from is a process that, as members of this culture, we must all undergo at some point. So what finally woke me up?

Was it the pressure I felt to endlessly expand the growth of my business?

Was it moving into a home that brought with it a litany of (self-imposed) “Keeping Up with the Joneses?”

Was it simply that I have been in a season of life where I was committed to finding my truest sense of self-worth, separate from what I accomplished?

The answer to each is “yes,” and so much more.

A couple of weeks ago, this quote arrived in my inbox. It stunned me in the most illuminating way. The quote is from the late Jiddu Krishnamurti, an Indian philosopher and orator who said, “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”

There it is—the truth we must sweep under the rug to keep climbing up the ladder, forever.?

The adjustment isn't contentment or even joy. It's accepting that this is all there is and believing that, if you play along, you'll be rewarded with grandeur, influence, wealth, fame, worth (and worthiness), and abundance.?

For years, I’ve noticed some signs that I’ve been misaligned. I needed to justify it to myself—to constantly rearrange in my mind that I was still aligned with my own values, all while pursuing, without question, a place in the world that catered to the part of me that wants to matter. The part that wants to ensure she's enough.

And then, a couple of days after the eye-opening 2024 US election, I woke up.

I don't blame myself for playing the game, and I don't regret it. But, as I emerge from this slumber, I recognize the emptiness I’ve carried throughout my quest for fulfillment—especially when it is attached to external validation and any amount of capitalist status. Because truly, in that quest, what is ever really enough?

The recent election clarified for me that, in this next chapter I’m stepping into, it’s time to divest my energy from all of the above and take stock of my resources, what matters, and what I can contribute when I am no longer distracted by the conditioning of this culture—and my past.

Now, for the first time in a decade, I’m reimagining how I pursue fulfillment—and accepting that the journey I will take there can no longer be an external one.?

As I emerge from this slumber, I’m realizing I have been pursuing an externally big life when, all along, what I’ve really craved is an inwardly big life.?

This is the embodiment of loving your small corner of the world.

I can no longer look around my life and feel committed to maintaining its facade—the big house, the ever-growing business, the attachment to what others think of me.

In this next chapter, I am letting go of:?

• ambition as a compass
• external metrics of success and status
• chasing after goals in order to fulfill my potential
• the aim to be liked
• dismissing my intuition
• extracting (and depleting) my resources in service of all these pursuits?

Instead, I hope to return home to my True Self.?

I seek a slower, more deliberate pace of life that savors each moment. I want to commit to my craft—not to be confused with the business of my craft. I'm drawn to the kind of infinite expansiveness that can only come from turning inward and living a right-sized life. I am cultivating an inner sanctuary of fulfillment, an inwardly big life.

Amidst all this reimagining, I’ve wondered, "What if...

... I purposely closed enrollment in my coaching practice from the new year through next summer?

... I took an overdue sabbatical for rest, recalibration, and repair?

... I kept only what still holds life for me, releasing commitments and obligations to everything else that has withered on the vine?

... I spent six months resting my body, nervous system, and mind??

… I slept each night and woke each morning without an alarm clock, paying attention to the natural rhythms and routines that want to emerge.

... I spent the majority of my week walking, hiking, writing, reading, and learning about things that draw me in, gathering ideas without the pressure to publish or produce?

... I disentangled my value from my productivity?

And what if I waited to respond to what comes next—not through the pursuit of goals, but through purposefully waiting for whatever is meant for me to resonate in my heart??

What would it be like to walk through the world offering, instead of demanding or requiring? What would it be like to share ideas without pushing for action or requesting engagement unless others felt genuinely inspired? What if I truly lived the values of the Sophia Century that I am so deeply drawn to?

Thomas Merton once said that in order to be great, one must let go of all notions of greatness. I think I get it now. What he's saying is that to be our full selves, we have to let go of being full of ourselves. I need to be unimpressive and unimportant, no longer living my life by the diluted metrics of material success. I don't want to be revered for what I produce—I don't know that I want to be revered at all. But I do want to come home to my True Self.

In the end, I finished my Decade Game. Not a single grandiose goal emerged—instead, I found invitations to slow down, be present with the people I love most, and nurture a meaningful relationship with my small corner of the world. A corner that's about to get a whole lot smaller.

Beginning December 21st, 2024—coinciding with the winter solstice—I will be embarking on what I'm calling a "purposeful pause," a sabbatical that will extend through the summer solstice of 2025.

This sabbatical aligns with a significant life change: We have decided to relocate from Oregon, where I've lived for over 16 years. Although we haven't chosen our final destination yet, we feel deeply drawn to a small island in Puget Sound, just off the coast of Seattle, near where I grew up. I am ready to try something new but also familiar—a return to my roots.?

What is it like to have no noise or light pollution??

What happens to a nervous system when there are more trees than people??

What is required of a community when reliance on one another is not a nicety but a way of life?

This pause will provide much-needed rest, allowing me to deepen my study of depth work, explore new places with my partner, pursue fresh ideas and dreams, and restore my nervous system.

During this time, I will continue working with my current one-on-one clients and writing my monthly newsletter. However, all other aspects of my coaching practice will be on pause.

During this purposeful pause, I'll be embracing what I've been advocating for - an inwardly big life that values presence over productivity, depth over status, and authentic connection over external validation.

As we enter 2025, I invite you to consider your own relationship with external validation and success. What might emerge if you, too, chose to cultivate an inwardly big life? What wisdom awaits when you choose to come home to your True Self?