What might it feel like to step off the treadmill of urgency and return to the rhythm of enough?

For the past six years, our family has honored a weekly tech Sabbath—from Friday evening to Sunday morning. At first, it felt like a small act—a way to soften my own deep immigrant programming around relentless productivity. But over time, it became something more: a sacred rhythm. A quiet remembering that our worth isn’t measured by our output. That stillness is powerful. That rest is holy.

Sabbath doesn’t need to be religious to be sacred. It might be a long walk, an unplugged afternoon, or simply a few moments to pause and breathe. However it looks, it’s an invitation to remember what matters most.

This August through October, I’ll be entering a deeper form of that pause: my first-ever sabbatical. It’s not about stepping away from the work I love—but about returning to it more grounded, clear, and whole. With the care, trust, and support of our wise and loving board and my amazing colleagues at Transformative Educational Leadership (TEL), this sabbatical has been over six years in the making—slowly and intentionally woven into our shared vision.

I recognize not everyone is in a season or system that allows for this kind of extended rest. And still, I hope this letter can be a gentle invitation to reflect on what renewal might look like in your own life—however modest or meaningful, however small or sustained.

You likely won’t see me on social media much (I’ll be taking a digital fast in August), but I’ll return to your inbox in the fall with freshness.

Just before this pause begins, we’ll be wrapping up our retreat for the fourth TEL cohort—an extraordinary group of leaders who continue to inspire me with their vision and courage. After seven years on the TEL journey, I’m humbled by how much this work has shaped me. This sabbatical is not a departure, but a deepening. A time to integrate what’s been learned and continue evolving into the leadership our times call for.

In late July, I’ll travel to Copenhagen to present at the Academy of Management’s Annual Meeting as part of the launch of a new book, Redefining Sacred Spaces in the Age of Technology, co-edited by TEL board member and Fetzer Institute Senior Program Officer Xiaoan Li and published by Springer. My chapter, coauthored with my longtime mentor Linda Lantieri, explores TEL’s approach to creating virtual sacred space. It’s an honor to be published alongside thinkers like Krista Tippett, Richie Davidson, and others whose work has long guided my own. Here’s the link to the open-access book ➝

From there, I’ll step offline and into deep time with my family and fulfill a long-held dream to visit Iceland, Sardinia, and Greece. On the island of Syros, we’ll take part in Boundless Life, a global living and learning experience for families introduced to me by TEL alum Rana Boone. Her family found it deeply nourishing—perhaps it’s something your family may be called to explore as well.

We’ll return to Deer Park Monastery on September 1st to begin a new chapter of community living and begin to help lay the foundation for both Simplicity Hamlet and the Thích Nhất Hạnh School of Interbeing. A true homecoming.

In the spirit of sacred timing, I’m also thrilled to share that a new article I coauthored with TEL alumni Dr. Renee Owen and Dr. Shannon Wanless was just published in the Social and Emotional Learning Journal—the field’s leading peer-reviewed journal for advancing SEL research, policy, and practice. The piece is titled “Evolving Transformative Social and Emotional Learning with an Ecological Perspective,” and it lifts up the importance of nested systems and spiritual resilience in shaping the future of SEL. The visual below offers a high-level snapshot  of the article's contribution to the field.

This work, like my sabbatical, is about widening the lens—recognizing that meaningful change doesn’t happen in isolation, but through deeply interconnected systems that include the inner life.

As Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, “The Sabbath is a sanctuary in time.” Sabbath isn’t a reward for exhaustion. It’s a radical act of trust. A remembering that we are already enough.

This season isn’t about retreating from purpose—it’s about living it more fully. I’m choosing slowness not as an indulgence, but as a necessary rhythm for tending to the soul. And I wonder: what might choosing slowness look like for you? What would it mean to claim a pause—however brief, however brave?

May this season bring what your spirit most needs.

With love and quiet joy,