“The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear.” –Rumi 

It is near the midpoint of my January sabbatical, a time planned for rest, reflection, and integration of what I’ve been learning. In October, I traveled to Sweden and Norway to get closer to my ancestral roots and explore the roots of transformational change at the Inner Development Goals (IDG) Summit. The experience was rich with new experiences and inspiration, but I returned to the familiar rush of November and December, finishing Rotary Charities’ fall grant season. I had been holding my breath, waiting for January to settle into a new rhythm.

A week after returning to my sabbatical, I felt unsettled, like I was failing somehow. I’d outlined guiding questions for my time that felt compelling:  

• What mindsets and capabilities help changemakers navigate complexity and foster thriving, equitable, and adaptable communities?
• How might these be cultivated and sustained? 
• How might this type of inner work align with the mission of Rotary Charities? 

I jumped into my “For Sabbatical” folder, filled with bookmarked articles, reports, and notes. I revisited interviews with changemakers and staff, found themes, and mapped the IDGs to similar frameworks. By the end of the week, I had a long list of things I’d done, notebook pages filled, but felt hollow – I was busy, but not fulfilled.  

During my week one check-in with Sakura, I shared, “It feels like Covid days” –few meetings, working mostly from home in my pajamas, and lingering uncertainty about what I “should” be doing. She encouraged me to recalibrate, let go of productivity and get more intentional about incorporating activities of unwinding and restoration, explore my own inner development.  

The irony struck me. Even with this gift of time, even with my chosen focus on the power of inner development, my own inner development was the last thing on my to do list.  

Presence 

On Monday morning of week two I made a prompt and determined pivot.   

Today, as I’m sitting in the Delamar lounge next to an amazing fireplace, watching a light snow fall over West Bay, I can already feel a shift. I just finished my second yoga class of the week, my first group yoga experience in over 20 years. Ambient music plays all day in the lounge like a subtle sabbatical soundtrack, “Reaching for the light, leave it all behind.”  

Yen Yoga is a warm, dimly lit, sanctuary. It smells like eucalyptus, camphor, and lavender. I unroll my mat behind the electric candle that marks my space. My mat! I’ve missed my mat. Time slows. Mind slows.   

“When asleep or numb, or moving too fast, we only touch surface to surface... The feel of truth and meaning waits below the surface.” –Mark Nepo, Seven Thousand Ways to Listen 

I breathe deeper. A spaciousness is returning, making room for feeling and memory to flow in. 

Yoga and meditation have threaded through different periods of my life. As a child, my father taught me breathwork, shoulder stands, and Om chanting. He would guide me on meditative journeys high above our house, our neighborhood, the planet—out into the universe and slowly back again. In my 20’s he introduced me (and anyone who would listen) to Tibetan singing bowls, orchestrating personal sound baths in the living room.  

He passed away in 2010. I’m not surprised to find him here, waiting for when things slowed down, nudging me back into the current.    

Inhale cleanly and feel the current of all life, which is timeless
Exhale cleanly and know that this current came before and it will continue after you
Breathe fully and consider that how you join and move with this current is your destiny
Open your eyes and enter your day, ready to find this current, ready to be unraveled of your plans, ready to love what you find. 

–The meditation at the end of my second yoga class, by Mark Nepo 

“Back into the cold,” my mat neighbor says at the end of class. Yes, back to the cold, but warmer. Much warmer.  

Wintering 

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” –Lao Tzu 

As I watch the snow slowly fall into the bay, I remember the wisdom of nature and the purpose of all the seasons. After the flurry of the holidays, winter is quiet, winter is slow. Winter’s purpose is not productivity, but preparation. Roots anchor deeper into the earth. Seeds rest and are protected until the conditions are right for germination. Leaves and plants decay, creating nutrients for new growth.     

Many cultures welcome this season. For the Anishinaabe people of our region, winter is a sacred time. It is the season for storytelling, for passing on values, and deepening connections with family and community. In Scandinavia where winters are even longer and darker, they embrace the season by getting cozy with blankets and candles, and bundling in warm clothes to continue to connect with the season outdoors and uphold what Norwegians call friluftsliv, or open-air living.  

Winter invites us to slow, to find what warms us and nourishes us, and to rest in the darkness and replenish our reserves.  

Join us for a Winter Warm-Up 

This winter, as I emerge from my sabbatical, I want to invite you into a new virtual space of connection where we can gently explore the Inner Development capacities together.  

This Winter Warm-Up will be a 10-week journey lightly exploring each of the 23 inner development capacities I began learning about at the international IDG Summit – things like presence, openness and learning mindset, sensemaking, connectedness, trust, and perseverance. Each week, Rotary Charities staff will share two or three capabilities along with reflective questions, micro-practices, and tools for deeper development.  

You will work at your own pace in a supportive Slack space where you can access weekly updates, engage in dialogue, share insights, and connect with others. 

The journey will begin February 10. Learn more and sign up here.