The Art of Letting Go: When Rocket Sirens Hijack Your Sabbatical

Six months sabbatical checkin: how a season of chaos became a masterclass in letting go

1. The Map I Drew

Going 6 months into my sabbatical, my plan looked wonderfully tidy:

• Walk the full Kumano Kodo in Japan.
• Dive deeper into Buddhist psychology.
• Coach and pay it forward while I roamed.
  

I had dates, flights, and itineraries. I felt in control, right up until I wasn’t.

2. Detour on the Trail

Half-way through the Kumano Kodo, a friend who joined me hit the wall and wanted to quit.
Letting her hike out alone wasn’t an option, so I surrendered the final day.

Frustration bubbled. My “dream trek” shrank by 16 kilometres. Yet the anger became its own curriculum: every muddy step a meditation on compassion, for her and for myself. I ended with fewer kilometres, but a lighter pack on my heart.

3. When War Rewrites the Calendar

Days later Iran launched missiles at Israel.
Imagine sirens at 3 a.m., again at breakfast, again at lunch. Shrapnel fell on my street; windows rattled with each boom. Almost overnight:

• Airports closed, and so did my travel plans.
• Workplaces rallied around their people, but a sabbatical has no HR team. And I had no team to lead this time.
• Writing? Impossible. Survival stole the pen.
  

I missed the “village” that a normal job provides. Sabbatical solitude suddenly felt like exile.

4. The Lonely Stretch of Sabbatical

This was new.
In past crises I had a team to lead, colleagues to lean on. Now it was only family, neighbours, and an empty Google Doc.

Silence followed. Plans froze. I froze, too.

5. The “Let Them / Let Me” Moment

I am now reading Mel Brown’s 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘺. It is a mindset shift focused on accepting that you cannot control other people’s actions, emotions, or choices, and choosing to focus your energy on what you can control: yourself.

I can’t control friends who quit treks, wars that rain rockets, or where debris lands.
I can choose where my energy goes next.

6. What I Can Move

• Coaching – showing up online for clients determined to build careers that feel true, even while sirens wail.
• Giving – volunteering and donating to people affected by this war.
• Practice & Study – daily meditation plus all day study for my Buddhist-psychology exam (I passed!).
  

Each action is a tiny vote for possibility over paralysis.

7. Letting Go ≠ Giving Up

Letting go often sounds passive. It isn’t.
It’s redirecting precious attention from the impossible to the possible, again and again, siren after siren.

If you’re in your own season of upheaval, try this:

1. Name one thing outside your control. Write it down, circle it, and label it “Let Them”.
2. Name one thing squarely inside your control. Label it “Let Me” and commit to a small step today.
3. Repeat tomorrow. Resilience is repetition in disguise.
   

8. Over to You

What do you need to let go of today?
And what will you focus on instead—big or small?

I’d love to hear your “Let Me” steps in the comments. We might be walking different trails, but we can still share the load.

Photo: A quiet moment on the Kumano Kodo, before the world tilted. A reminder that peace isn’t a place on the map—it’s a practice in motion.