A sabbatical is not a vacation. It is a mindful reclaiming of your time and your energy. If you are feeling the pull to unwind in a serious way, and you want to know how to take a sabbatical, I can help you. Whether as an individual or as part of your employee benefits package, defining the scope and purpose of a sabbatical is key to success.
For individuals, I offer two consultation packages:
- Single Session: This one-time, 90-minute consultation is designed to help you develop your sabbatical story and plan for your time off. We’ll talk through your hopes and fears, and get through as many of your questions as we can fit into the time allotted. I will provide you with a written summary of the insights we gathered and your next steps. Fee: $325.
- Short Term Engagement: These three one-hour sessions will help guide you through the process of negotiating, planning, and communicating your sabbatical intentions. I will provide you with written summaries of each session, including suggested next steps. Fee: $750.
For businesses, I offer a number of models for engaging with your human resources team to help you articulate and build your sabbatical policy. I am also available for longer term engagements to help coach your employees on a one-on-one basis. Rates are commensurate with the length of the engagement.
Contact: Email me at email@example.com for more information or to schedule a consultation.
My Sabbatical Story
My own experience with a sabbatical began in 2016, when I took a year off to walk the world. Here’s my first blog post, which explains how my journey came about, and my final post. The inspiration for my travel blog, which later became the name of my communications and storytelling practice, comes from this poem by Mary Oliver:
The Poet with His Face in His Hands
You want to cry aloud for your
mistakes. But to tell the truth the world
doesn’t need anymore of that sound.
So if you’re going to do it and can’t
stop yourself, if your pretty mouth can’t
hold it in, at least go by yourself across
the forty fields and the forty dark inclines
of rocks and water to the place where
the falls are flinging out their white sheets
like crazy, and there is a cave behind all that
jubilation and water fun and you can
stand there, under it, and roar all you
want and nothing will be disturbed; you can
drip with despair all afternoon and still,
on a green branch, its wings just lightly touched
by the passing foil of the water, the thrush,
puffing out its spotted breast, will sing
of the perfect, stone-hard beauty of everything.