My Vested Sabbatical: Lessons Carried in a Backpack

When I planned my three-month sabbatical, I saw it as a pause – a break from the deadlines, rapid responses, and market noise. I wanted my time away from the contagious energy of New York City to be slower, deeper, more human. What I didn’t realize was that by the end I’d be returning not only rested, but as a stronger, more intentional communicator.

I traveled widely, but three solo trips became anchors of this journey.

First, Japan. There, I experienced the stark contrast between the serene temple gardens and the rush-hour chaos of Tokyo. In quiet moments, I learned to value the space between words. Navigating Tokyo’s social codes alone – on hushed trains, in crowded izakayas – challenged me to read the room quickly, adapt my approach, and step forward with both humility and confidence.

Then, the Portuguese route of the Camino de Santiago: hundreds of kilometers on foot to Santiago de Compostela, alongside pilgrims from every walk of life. My days fell into the rhythm of footsteps and the kindness of strangers. Hospitality became its own language, spoken through generosity and curiosity. Locals welcomed me into albergues with hugs and home-cooked meals, café owners stamped my pilgrim passport with pride, and fellow walkers dove for their first-aid kits at the mere mention of a blister.

What made it especially unique was doing it alone. There was a certain magic in the way people appeared and reappeared – you might meet someone on day three and not see them again until day ten, yet pick up the conversation right where you left off. The Camino held its own invisible social safety net, catching each of us when solitude grew heavy, reminding us that though we may have embarked on the journey solo, we were never truly alone. No matter where you came from, everyone was walking the same road, sharing the same small triumphs and aches. We were easy to recognize, bent slightly under the same oversized backpacks, bound together by the camaraderie of moving toward the same destination.

Finally, Peru’s Sacred Valley and the hike to Machu Picchu. The thin air and steep climbs tested us all, but fellow travelers and I bonded over shared breaths and breaks. We were united by the goal to stand together before one of the world’s most sacred and awe-inspiring sites. In those moments, language and cultural barriers disappeared, and what connected us was a shared experience of wonder, gratitude, and hard-earned arrival. And of course, celebratory pisco sours.

Each journey reinforced something essential: communication isn’t just about the right words at the right time — it’s about presence, empathy, and adaptability. Trust is built not only through what you say, but how you say it and how well you listen.

My friends, family and colleagues said the summer flew by, but in the quiet hum of unstructured days where life was guided more by instinct than set plans, time unfolded slowly. That freedom was a gift, and I savored every bit of it, but as the weeks passed, I found myself genuinely ready to return. That was the clearest sign I’d done it right. I’d had the space to rest, to think, and to simply be; in doing so, I’d built the energy and clarity to step back in with excitement, not apprehension.

I’m coming back sharper, but also softer. More precise, but also more patient. Ready to navigate complexity with the same calm focus I carried on a mountain trail, a cobblestone path, or a lantern-lit street. In communications – where clarity, trust, and timing are everything – those qualities matter. Japan taught me the value of space and listening. The Camino reminded me to lead with openness. Peru showed me the strength in persistence and shared purpose. Ultimately, the greatest return from this journey was not a place or a milestone, but a widened capacity for connection: the invisible currency of our work.

Learn more about the Vested sabbatical program here.