I feel pressure. As I sit here on sabbatical with more time off than I’ve ever had, recognizing that I can do whatever I want, sitting at the point of never having been off work for this long since I started working at fourteen, I feel it.
Increasing tightness in my shoulders, neck and head.
A growing abyss of tightness in my mind.
All self-imposed mind you. As if this sabbatical were a holy trek, a spiritual pilgrimage that must result in some kind of enlightenment. I haven’t cut my hair or beard for over a month, maybe in part at least I’ll look like I was lost in India for a couple months.
I’ve read Genesis to Isaiah in the past 18 days, but have no sense of deep insight.
I’ve written 19,787 words for my book, but there is so much more to write and even more to rewrite.
Will I be different?
Am I different?
Will I see things differently?
What if everyone else sees me as different, but in my eyes – I haven’t changed!
The real change may be undetectable. A sense of subtle reassignment of some small segments of genetic code sprinkled here and there. What will it grow to become? Only time will tell with the help of good friends and Godly counsel.