Sabbatical Joy

I picked up a free new hobby, my antidote to winter blues and urban living

Working in a windowless basement for seven years had its perks.

We called it “The Bunker”. Our offices were on the floor below our airline’s operations center. The building was hardened to withstand an F3 tornado. The tradeoff for safety and resilient operations was zero sunlight. The November daylight savings reversal each year started about three months of leaving work after dark. Depressing.

When I left my job to start my sabbatical in December 2020, I discovered something I wish I’d started years ago:

Chasing sunsets

My favorite treat during my first two months on sabbatical was driving down the street to our urban park, White Rock Lake, to watch the sunset. North Texas is known for flat topography and endless concrete. However the open skies provide a backdrop for breathtaking sunsets. We find the beauty where we can.

I began this new habit my first week on sabbatical during my redwoods disconnect trip. I googled a few places for sunset views on the far Northern California coast. I found new spots each day—a waterfront dock, a seaside rocky hill, a hot tub. One day I decided to make a foggy 20-mile drive up the coast to watch the sunset in Oregon. I enjoyed the sky’s pale palette alongside brave winter surfers, RV retirees, and young families keeping their little ones away from the huge waves.

Sunset-chasing paid off this December evening in Brookings, Oregon

“The land has left its luring autumn self behind and put on a new, aloof beauty. The greens and golds have thinned to watercolor; the sky is one scoured sweep of pale blue…”
—Tana French, The Searcher

When I returned home, I decided to continue carving out time for watching sunsets. This was a clear antidote to the winter blues I was used to battling every year.

Watching a sunset in solitude is replenishing. I take equal joy in watching it side by side with a group of diverse strangers. White Rock Lake usually has cyclists, teens sneaking a joint, couples doing engagement photo shoots, a guy practicing yoga, and men sitting on buckets fishing off the pier. Last time a guy brought a full size keyboard and was playing some intense, sunset-inappropriate classical music. I loved it anyway.

One month later, at White Rock Lake

I came up with a field guide to sunset-chasing:

1. Monitor the sky. Completely clear skies provide lackluster sunsets. Overcast skies won’t produce color. My favorite ratio is 30/70 sky/cloud.

2. Find an open space. Areas near airports and bodies of water have fewer obstructions. Finding a pond or lake adds depth and movement to the sunset.

3. Arrive at least 30 minutes prior to sunset and stay until dark. Sit or walk, and…chill the f**k out. With the right clouds, the sunset’s colors peak well after the sun disappears. It’ll seem like it’s over, and then the clouds put on their flashiest hot pink wares. I made the mistake as recently as six weeks ago of leaving a sunset too early. We were watching the sunset at Big Bend National Park, and drove away thinking it was over. We saw hot pink swirls in the rearview mirror and quickly made a U-turn back to our vista point.

Had to make a U-turn to come back to this sunset in Big Bend, February 2023

Finding space and joy

According to Merriam-Webster, the word “sabbatical” comes from the Bible’s Old Testament. The “Sabbath” is the day of rest, the seventh day. The term is mentioned in Leviticus as an entire year of rest for the land after six years of growing.

Our brains crave breaks, connection with nature, and small moments of joy. It’s not necessary to take a year off (although I highly recommend it). Carving out daily or weekly time for small pleasures—a morning sunlight walk, eating lunch outside, chasing a sunset—makes a huge difference in my mental state. This is a practice I’ve carried out of sabbatical with me.

What can you do this week to build a moment of rest and replenishment into your day?

Always searching for my next sunset