Integral to a sabbatical is the longing to break away from the habits of our lives. More importantly, a sabbatical gives a break in a way that allows us to truly see the world around us.
Cultivating this art – as a pilgrim in a new land – is as simple as slipping on a pair of comfortable shoes and setting out to walk, listen, hear, and draw from your surroundings.
I’m practicing being a pilgrim for parts of the next three days. I still have work goals for this week and it certainly doesn’t hurt that I’m in New Orleans, which might be a world away from you but only 2.5 hours by car from my home. It’s a regular work week for me – except for three hours every day, I’m on sabbatical.
It’s not as if I haven’t been to New Orleans. I have visited several times. But I’ve never set out to see it as a journey that could transport me. How does one prepare to be a pilgrim – to experience this place not as a tourist or visitor? The trick is to make up your mind that you are on a journey of deep mystery – discovering a place and the people in it at the same time you learn something about yourself.
Here are the three rules I follow:
- Total electronic disconnection. I turn off my blackberry at 5PM and promptly fire it up at 8PM.
- Total silence, on my part. I purposely don’t speak or engage in conversation with anyone.
- Do it alone. I’ll meet up with my husband later at the restaurant.
Here are the highlights of my micro-sabbatical – a three-hour span of time from 5PM to 8PM - last Wednesday when I walked the French Quarter:
- At 5pm, walking tour guides are working in Jackson Square and the artists are setting up. I eavesdrop on the tour guides while sitting on a bench in front of the Cathedral and learn a lot. I wonder what it’s like to work in a beautiful city and repeat yourself day after day while people gaze at you. Do you kiss up for a better tip? Or does your love of this history move your soul – daily?
- After six, the readers pour in from four corners, transporting their card table and two chairs. After the table tops are covered with colorful fabric, it takes a good ten minutes to light all the small candles to cover each square inch of their working surface. No one appears to have a specific gender or age. And while some are dressed up like gypsies, most look like a person you’d see reading labels of Progresso Soups at your friendly Wal-Mart.
Few signs say exactly what they are reading – tarot cards, tea leaves, coffee grounds or a palm- and no signs to signal the investment or time it will take. I do not go up to the tables, because I am not a tourist; I am a pilgrim on a journey of observation. I find it interesting that they just sit quietly – in quasi-alertness – waiting and waiting. Despite the competitiveness in this small space (I can see 20 readers on the side of the square under the cathedral), no one shouts or waves you over. I wonder if they often go home without one customer. How do they process that? (More to the point, how would I process that?)
- As I round Jackson Square for the third time, I begin to follow a homeless woman who carries on conversations with musicians, shop owners, artists and a ten-minute friendly banter with a policeman. She seems to have more friends than I. I wonder what it’s like to live on the streets in this city. She doesn’t look sad. What five things would I take from my closet or house to fit in my cart, if I were homeless?
- There’s something about the smells I notice right around 7pm. Chicory, coffee, and something mingled with Cajun spicy – lovely and pungent. I stop on St. Peter Street and hear different kinds of music – the usual dixieland, a solo violin and a man playing a saw with a bow. What a strange, magical place.
My micro-sabbatical has left me with wonder, curiosity and some thoughts about my own life. The diversity of work and life fascinates me. There are vastly different systems at work for people to make their way in the world; my way is but a small, narrow stripe on a whirly-gig.
I wonder: Would my life look as interesting and colorful to an observer? What sights and sounds would be apparent to someone new in my neighborhood?
In my three hours of being a pilgrim, I’ve changed physically. I’ve totally focused on my energy to absorb and assimilate information, and I noticed that I have slowed down. You have to linger in order to savor and absorb. Though I still have some deep holes in a work project with a deadline early tomorrow morning, I’m all mellow about it. Totally confident that I’ll find pull together what I need.
At the core of a micro-sabbatical where being a pilgrim is the focus, three aspects converge:
- How deeply do you see?
- How attentively do you hear?
- How open are you to everyday encounters that could stir the heart and soul?
Tomorrow, another micro-sabbatical is planned from 11AM to 2pm.
No Responses Yet…