I’ve been driving for 22 years and it’s become second nature. I’ve been navigating my career for almost as long and it still doesn’t feel effortless. Maybe this is something you recognize too?

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.

But I’m not wholehearted looking forward to this time. In fact, I’m a little scared of it. Here’s why.

this time, when 30-40% of the workforce is expected to leave their current positions.

After my last essay about burning out from my nonprofit position, I heard from so many of you that the story resonated.

And right now, so many of my clients are asking themselves: Should I stay or should I go? (And if I do go, how do I face those unknowns?)

These conversations are bringing me back to a book that I read around the time I was thinking of leaving—David Whyte's Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity.

There was this one idea from one chapter that felt like it was written just for me.

I felt called out and called forward at the same time.

I think that it might do the same for you: