July 17, 2025
Filed under: General
This past spring, I stepped away for a six-week sabbatical. It’s something our team at OWM offers after six years of work. I ended up taking mine at the ten-year mark, which tells you a little bit about me: I might not be great at slowing down.
The sabbatical had two distinct halves. The first three weeks were spent traveling through Spain and Portugal, and Paris and Normandy. The final three weeks were spent at home, with no schedule and nowhere I had to be.
The cities were amazing – beautiful, vibrant, and full of culture. Spain and Portugal, in particular, had this way of saying, without saying, “We know how to live here, and you, my American friend, do not.” And honestly, they weren’t wrong. Getting away from the tourist spots the pace was slower. Priorities were different. Meals were long and unhurried. People seemed more present and connected to each other.
Despite this I also noticed something in myself. I kept trying to do more. Fit in another stop. Walk a few extra miles. Maximize every day. That instinct to stay busy didn’t disappear just because I had time off. If anything, it followed me.
It reminded me that rest and presence are not things that happen automatically. They’re choices.
Time with My Mom
After Spain and Portugal, I traveled to Paris and then Normandy with my mom. I couldn’t remember the last time it’d been just the two of us. No siblings. No distractions. Just us, wandering, eating, catching up.
Count me firmly in the camp that believes Paris is the best city in the world. There’s not much else to say other than it’s beautiful, the culture is unrivaled, and the food is amazing.
Normandy was unlike anywhere else I’ve been. The beaches were calm and peaceful, and it’d be easy to mistake it for any normal countryside. But standing there, I knew this was the same place where my grandfather landed as a 19-year-old paratrooper during World War II. He survived. And because he did, I’m here.
That realization hit hard. There’s something about standing in a place like that and knowing your life exists because someone else made it through utter carnage. I don’t know exactly what to make of it. But it reminded me that luck plays a much bigger role than we often like to acknowledge.
Being Home
One of the reasons it probably took me four extra years to take the sabbatical is that I wasn’t sure what I’d do with the space. I like structure. I like a full calendar. I like feeling productive.
But the second half of the sabbatical, three weeks at home, surprised me. I wasn’t working on projects I’d put off or checking off a bucket list. I was just being. Reading. Sleeping better. Going for walks. Letting the days unfold without plans and no guilt for the first time in years.
And I loved it.
There was some peace in the quiet. Not dramatic or life-altering, but steady and grounding. It made me realize I’d probably needed it more than I thought.
What It Made Me Realize
During that time away, I also quietly passed a big milestone. Ten years as a financial planner at Omega. I didn’t mark it with any fanfare, but I noticed it. Having the space to reflect on those ten years, what I’ve learned and what I want the next ten to look like, was one of the most valuable parts of the entire experience.
What struck me the most is that the time away gave me a small taste of what so many of us are working toward. Freedom. Presence. Time with the people we care about. The ability to decide how we spend our days.
And there I was, in my 30s, experiencing that. Not in retirement, but in real time. It made me think maybe we don’t have to wait so long. Maybe those moments don’t have to live in the someday category. Maybe we can build lives that include them now, even if only in small, intentional ways.
Moving Ahead
The sabbatical didn’t flip a switch or radically change how I see the world or who I am. But it gave me space and perspective. A clearer view of what life feels like when you stop constantly moving.
Here’s what I want to carry with me:
- A little less urgency.
- A little more presence.
- And the reminder that some of the most meaningful things in life aren’t earned by doing more, but by learning when to pause.
If you’re feeling the pull to take a step back, even just for a few days, I’d encourage it. Not to escape, but to listen. You might be surprised by what surfaces when the noise finally quiets down.
jared