Speed is good, slow is scary.

I'm starting a two-month sabbatical next week. Usually, I work fast, cramming as much as I can between school bus pick up and drop off everyday. So slowing down for two months feels absolutely radical.

> I'm hitting pause on one on one coaching to make room for exploring new ideas and questions, and getting to work on a book proposal.

> I'm taking a break from the constant push-pull between the needs of family and the needs of my work.

> I'm allowing myself to settle in to a different rhythm for the summer season.

I was talking about my plans with a colleague last week, and something unexpected came out of my mouth:

"I'm excited about that open time—but I'm also afraid of it." Once I named that fear, it both felt really right and really surprising. Why would I be afraid of time off? It's simple: I honestly don't know what will happen when I slow down.

It's simple: I honestly don't know what will happen when I slow down.

This realization reminded me of a passage from a book that I read a long time ago, David Whyte's Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity.

I've turned back to this book and this particular chapter many times.

Here, Whyte writes about the role of SPEED in our work:

"I was incredibly busy. I had lots of responsibility, lots of meetings, courses to run, people to accommodate, budgets to meet...I had learned to work very fast, barely stopping for anything that did not seem productive or an aid to production. I moved from photocopier, to receptionist, to filing cabinet in a tight, self-enclosed orbit...

Speed in work has compensations. Speed gets noticed. Speed is praised by others. Speed is self-important. Speed absolves us. Speed means we don't really belong to any particular thing or person we are visiting and thus appears to elevate us above the ground of our labors.

When it becomes all-consuming, speed is the ultimate defense, the antidote to stopping and really looking. If we really saw what we were doing and who we had become, we feel we might not survive the stopping and the accompanying self-appraisal. So we don't stop, and the faster we go, the harder it becomes to stop. We keep moving on whenever any form of true commitment seems to surface.

Speed is also warning, a throbbing, insistent indicator that some cliff edge or other is very near, a sure diagnostic sign that we are living someone else's life and doing someone else's work. But speed saves us the pain of all that stopping; speed can be such a balm, a saving grace, a way we tell ourselves, in unconscious ways, that we are really not participating...

Part of the reason stopping seems like death is that speed has become our core competency, our core identity. We do not know what powers we would be left with if we stopped doing what we were doing in the busy way we were doing it. Besides, there is a deeper, older human intuition at play that knows any real step forward comes through our pains and vulnerabilities, which is the reason we began to busy ourselves in the first place, so that we could stay well away from them. If we stopped, we would have to sojourn in areas that have nothing to do with getting things done but everything to do with being done to ourselves."

There's the fear for me:

• What powers will I be left with if I stop doing what I'm doing in the busy way I'm doing it?

• What does it mean to focus not on getting things done, but instead being done to myself?

Working at a fast pace can feel purposeful, or important, or just how work has to be—but I'm realizing that it can also be a form of hiding.

You can use speed to hide from yourself, to quiet the wise voice inside you that is trying to tell you what you truly need to hear.

It takes courage to slow down, get quiet, and listen.

It's exciting, but not comfortable. Like many of us, I have a ways to go in sitting with myself in my own company.

Coaching and facilitation is care work—it requires me to create and hold space for others, to witness, affirm, and reflect back their needs, and to be fully present and deeply listen.

Perhaps there is hiding in that work as well.

Who knows what will come of this time? My intention is to resurface in September with a killer book proposal and new resources to knock your socks off. But I suspect that there will be deeper doing and being that will happen as well.

Get Ready to Learn from the Penney Leadership Community

One thing I know for sure is that while I'm taking a step back, some incredible members of the Penney Leadership community are taking a step forward (see below).

You'll be hearing from members of my team, clients, and collaborators throughout the summer. I'm excited to share this platform as a space for them to stretch themselves, step into their leadership, and share with you.

--> We have guest posts from former and current clients reflecting on their questions and challenges. You'll be getting these right in your inbox in upcoming issues of the Strategic Leader's Toolbox.

--> We have a special Leadership Lab alumni series including Budgeting Can Be Fun with Emily Robertson on 7/14 and Leading and Learning Mindfully with Alex Lehning on 8/16 from 12-1pm ET. Register here.

--> We have an all-new Resource Library brewing, where you can get answers to your pressing career and leadership development questions.

And my fellow coach Jessica and I will be back in September, ready to open up some new spots for Career Mapping Sessions and 1:1 Career Navigation this fall. We'll also be preparing to launch the next cohort of the Career Collaborative Accelerator in October—get on the list to find out when enrollment opens here!

Until then, take good care!