Our mojo is back. The power that may seem magical and that allows us to be very effective and successful is back. The sizzle to which others have grown accustomed has returned and they take notice. Now, what; do I make an announcement to reassure the markets and the masses? Do I host a kegger? What about the paradox of the sabbatical?
The Paradox
Finding creativity while searching for security is a paradox, an anomaly that I need to embrace. Inadvertently, I stumbled onto something. If I want to advance what I hope to be, I may need to return to what I once was. It’s as if I need the tension and stress of a day job, to provide the mindset that I need an escape. I do have to be an accountant, a welder, an undocumented Uber driver for my son and his posse to be creative! With nothing expected of me, I do nothing that matters; When faced with obligations, I am invigorated to do more! It makes no sense.
The Sabbatical Year
Rooted in Hebrew tradition, dating back to the time of Moses, the sabbatical year, or “shvi’itt” occurred every seventh year in the life of the observant Jew. He was commanded to give the land a year of rest, and forgive the debts and obligations due to him. While neither observant nor a Jew, I felt compelled to reconnect with the practices of my spiritual heritage by embracing the practice of the sabbatical year.
Back in 2001, after I closed my business, I made a feeble attempt to take a year off of work. While the implied intent was to use this period as a time of spiritual and professional rejuvenation, I used the time to remodel my garage, do some consulting and other self-serving activities. Nothing edifying, no mountain-top encounters with a far-Eastern Sage, no desire to map out a five-year life plan. Most days were filled with busy-ness and reconnecting with my family after many years as an absentee father.
Up until then, everything you could think of — work, school, business matters — came before spending time with my family. What was meant to be used as my time to lay the groundwork for something new so I could leave my mark on the world, turned into a trip to Disney, picking my kids up from school and other routine activities with my family. My mark on the world was beginning to resemble a dent in the couch. I spent my time of doing what I needed to do; rebalance my priorities and enjoying my family.
Reinstated
Fast forward about 15-years. I earned a Masters degree from a top university, successfully changed careers, and held three jobs; and forgot all about the “shvi’itt” of years seven and 14. I compromised during year 16, deciding that eight days off of work would suffice. As I said, I am neither observant nor Jewish.
So what changed? Why did I think I needed an extended period of rest 16-years ago and now after a week and a half off, I am chomping at the bit to go back to work.
I must have changed just as my priorities did during the past six years. Am I now a more engaged husband and father, a better boss and a more effective leader than I was so long ago? Then again, maybe I do a better job keeping what matters most in front of me.
The Other Paradox
The ultimate paradox is this. The disease that made me sick ushered in a place to heal. That which makes me bitter now directs me to a life of gratitude. The very thing that impairs my mobility is what now drives me to be active. When looking at PD in its totality, even though it has ravaged the lives of many, it has changed some parts of my life for the better. That is the ultimate paradox.
Others see something in me and want it for themselves, absent the trail of tears, so to speak. They are thirsty. Is it mojo they covet, or something more tangible, more transparent, and more transcendent? What can I say that eclipses what others can see? Mere words are fleeting, but actions show commitment and resolve.
Mojo was fun while it lasted but what replaced it is even better, something revolutionary, omnipresent and contagious. What do we call this phenomenon, mojo doesn’t quite do it justice? Maybe if it is in all caps and bold font, MOJO. I will have to work on that.
Thanks for reading, liking, and sharing,
Al and his faithful, but hood-winked sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.
Our apologies to you all for our absence last week. At the very last minute, Ivy, now my Producer, exercised her right to an 8-week Sabbatical. Now, she thinks that I pulled a fast one. I do agree that she was entitled to an 8-week sabbatical, it was calculated in dog years so she is back to work. There is a lesson here I hoped she learned. Never hire your antagonist, a feline with food issues that doesn’t read fine print to be your agent. Good job, house cat!