Will You Begin Again?
My annual coaching sabbatical officially ended two weeks ago. For anyone who doesn't know, this sabbatical is something I put in place back in 2019, taking my cue from a colleague whom I admire. The idea was -- and continues to be -- to give my brain some time and space to step out of "coaching mode" and focus on other things, things that I might not make time for in any meaningful way outside of the sabbatical.
The first year went alright; I honoured my self-imposed "time away" pretty well, but didn't pick a particular way in which to use this new-found time.
The second year was awesome from an "honouring time" perspective. I held my boundaries solidly and chose a conscious, deliberate focus for my four-week coaching hiatus: engaging in non-fiction reading that is otherwise hard to get to while my calendar is booked with meetings and clients.
The third year also went well; in addition to focusing on non-fiction reading in general, I chose a specific topic and let myself dive in deep. I also blended in some pure restorative time in which I allowed myself to sit on my backyard porch and just sit still.
The fourth year (last year) things got more challenging; in addition to my own coaching work, I had taken on a half-time position with the Co-Active Training institute which meant that I no longer had my entire calendar at my disposal. While I could definitely take a COACHING sabbatical, I couldn't take a sabbatical from my CTI responsibilities. As a result, while I honoured my commitment to not coach for a month, I inadvertently allowed my CTI work to creep into the hours that were now "empty" -- which meant I wasn't really away from my work at all, and there was very little change in focus.
Which brings us to this year. This summer, I booked my afternoons off for one, whole month. My intention was to use my mornings to do my CTI work, and then have four weeks of afternoons in which to give myself the intended time to rest, restore and refocus. I did a bit better this summer, but not great. There were definite times when the penciled boundaries in my calendar got written over or otherwise erased as I allowed myself to give in to other work demands. I did manage to refrain from coaching for most of the month, but at no point did I actually have the time to restore myself.
It would be really tempting after two years of missing the mark on my sabbatical practice to throw in the towel, to tell myself that sabbaticals are no longer possible for me so long as I remain employed by an entity other than my own company. This narrative would do anything but serve me well, because here's the thing: the fact that my sabbatical time hasn't been as effective or as manageable as I would like doesn't mean that sabbaticals as a whole are off the table. It doesn't mean that I've failed and am doomed to failure forever more. It means that I need to tweak a thing or two (or three).
Many folks have said words to the effect that failures are simply steps on the road to success. Years ago, when I participated in a leadership program, I learned the importance of two simple words: begin again. These words have become a mantra of mine (and sometimes I need to remind myself of their utility).
When I miss a day with my personal trainer, I could decide that this kind of exercise isn't for me; or I could BEGIN AGAIN.
When I miss a deadline on a project, I could beat myself up and hand the task over to someone else; or, I could BEGIN AGAIN.
When I give in to temptation, and have a sweet dessert, or enjoy a glass of wine with a friend, or spend an hour or two scrolling through TikTok when I know I have to get to bed early, I could tell myself I'm not cut out for such rigidity; or, I could BEGIN AGAIN.
You see, every moment, every hour, every day provides a new opportunity to tackle whatever it is we are trying to tackle. Staying the course and never veering off track or making mistakes might be something to strive for; but it's not the way success is actually achieved, at least not in reality. In reality, missteps happen, wagons are fallen off, and sometimes we fall short. In and of themselves, these scenarios are not failures. Instead, the failure lies in the choice to let these scenarios be stopping points.
Bottom-line: whatever you are facing right now, whatever way in which you feel like you're falling (or failing), it's actually okay. It's not the end of your journey to a particular objective; rather, it's a part of it. So, whenever you think it's time to throw in the towel, give yourself a moment or two. Take a breath or two. And then, when you're ready, begin again.