There is something mildly absurd about me writing about taking breaks. I am not particularly good at them.
\nIn more than three decades of existence, I could probably count the genuine breaks I’ve taken. The rest have been pseudo-breaks at best. Time away from earning a living, perhaps, but not necessarily away from the things that make earning a living necessary.
\nAnd yet, I’ve increasingly come to appreciate what happens when we step away from our usual endeavours, even temporarily.
\nThere is a certain clarity that comes with it. Things that previously seemed urgent become less so. Problems that occupied our minds for weeks begin to look different. Sometimes, the decision we had been struggling to make no longer seems particularly difficult.
\nBut there is also the guilt that accompanies the decision to stop.
\nAm I resting, losing momentum, avoiding something, or quietly giving up? If I leave something alone for long enough, will I still want to return to it? And if circumstances force the break upon me, can I even call it a break?
\nI’ve been thinking about these questions, particularly the relationship between taking extended holidays and the important decisions we make in life.
\nInterestingly, the word holiday comes from the Old English hāligdæg, meaning a holy day. Originally associated with religious observances, its meaning eventually expanded to include time away from ordinary labour.
\nI find that origin rather fascinating. The idea that certain days could be set apart from the usual demands of existence.
\nNow, I’m particularly interested in breaks that last longer than a weekend or the occasional two-week holiday. The kind where you step away from earning a living for months, perhaps even a year, without necessarily knowing what you’re going to do with the time.
\nSomething I’ve observed about people whose accomplishments we admire is that extended periods away from their usual endeavours sometimes appear in their stories before significant changes in their lives.
\nWhen I watched the Jobs movie, I became curious about Steve Jobs’ journey to India.
\nIn 1974, before Apple existed, Jobs travelled to India with his friend Daniel Kottke. He spent several months exploring spirituality, visiting ashrams and trying to make sense of questions that had little to do with building computers.
\nIt wasn’t a conventional holiday, but neither was it a professional undertaking.
\nThen there is Phil Knight.
\nIn Shoe Dog, Knight recounts his journey around the world in 1962, visiting Japan, India and several other countries before Nike existed.
\nWhat makes his account especially interesting is that he already had the idea of importing Japanese running shoes before leaving America. His travels were partly an opportunity to explore that idea and partly an attempt to experience a world he knew relatively little about.
\nHis father also helped finance the journey.
\nThat last detail is important, and I’ll come back to it.
\nBoth men eventually went on to build extraordinary things. It is tempting to look at their travels and conclude that stepping away from conventional work somehow prepared them for what followed.
\nI’ve certainly been tempted to make that connection.
\nBut perhaps we’re giving these journeys importance because we already know how their stories ended.
\nIf Jobs hadn’t founded Apple, would his months in India have meant anything to us? If Knight hadn’t built Nike, would his journey around the world be regarded as anything more than the adventure of a young man trying to find his place?
\nHow many people have taken similar journeys, returned home, and simply continued with their lives?
\nAnd would that make their experiences any less valuable?
\nI don’t know.
\nThere is some evidence that time away from work can improve aspects of cognitive flexibility, but that doesn’t necessarily explain why certain experiences appear to precede life-changing decisions.
\nIt reminds me of something considerably more ordinary.
\nWhen we wake up after a good night’s sleep, we often find ourselves better equipped to think through things that seemed difficult the previous evening.
\nWhat exactly changes?
\nAnd if a night’s sleep can offer that kind of mental refreshment, what happens when we extend the distance between ourselves and our usual responsibilities?
\nIs there a threshold?
\nWould taking a nap every three hours improve our ability to think throughout the day? Or would our minds eventually adapt, making the supposed benefit less noticeable?
\nPerhaps an extended holiday offers something sleep alone cannot. The opportunity to experience life without constantly returning to the same obligations.
\nOr perhaps I’m confusing two fundamentally different things.
\nWhat I do find curious is that, whenever I manage to take a break from earning my keep in the committee of the human species, I tend to become more engaged with the things I enjoy doing for their own sake.
\nRunning, writing, building software.
\nThings that could reasonably be described as work, except that I am not necessarily doing them because someone needs them done or because they must produce an economic outcome.
\nI’m doing them because I enjoy doing them.
\nIt makes me wonder whether the clarity I associate with taking breaks comes from doing less or simply having greater freedom to decide what deserves my attention.
\nBut this brings me back to the uncomfortable part of the whole observation.
\nThe ability to step away from earning a living without worrying about the consequences is a luxury that isn’t evenly distributed.
\nSomeone might argue that everyone can afford a holiday suited to their financial circumstances.
\nAnd I wouldn’t necessarily disagree.
\nBut that isn’t quite what I’m talking about.
\nI’m talking about the possibility of taking an entire year away from earning a living without spending that year worrying about what happens afterwards.
\nWhat happens to your employment? Will the job still exist? Will the skills you’ve spent years acquiring remain relevant in a world where technological change, particularly AI, is already making people question the future of their work?
\nWhat happens to the responsibilities that do not disappear simply because you’ve decided you need some time away?
\nOne could argue that a year is excessive.
\nWhy not three months? Six months? Or even two?
\nBut the question remains.
\nHow much of that time would genuinely belong to you if you spent it worrying about what awaits you when you return?
\nAnd what about someone whose break wasn’t a choice at all?
\nSomeone who lost their job, whose business failed, or whose circumstances simply made continuing impossible.
\nThey might have an entire year away from work, but would they experience the clarity I’ve been describing?
\nThere is a difference between having nothing to do and having the freedom to do nothing.
\nPerhaps that difference matters more than the duration of the break itself.
\nI’m also beginning to question my original assumption that vacations should lead to clarity or important decisions.
\nWhy must a break produce something valuable before we consider it worthwhile?
\nThe moment I describe extended holidays as a superpower for making better decisions, I’ve already found a way to turn them into another instrument of productivity.
\nTake time off, gain clarity, return with a better idea, make something extraordinary.
\nEven our attempts to escape the demands of work somehow end up being justified by what they might enable us to accomplish afterwards.
\nWhat if nothing extraordinary happens?
\nWhat if someone takes a year away and returns without a business idea, a new career, or some profound understanding of their existence?
\nHas that year been wasted?
\nI’m not entirely sure why we are so quick to measure time this way.
\nPerhaps it’s because many of us have spent most of our lives learning that our time must be accounted for, that there must be something to show for it.
\nAnd perhaps that’s also why taking a break comes with so much guilt.
\nAs with most things I write about, I don’t have a solution to offer.
\nI can only reflect on my own experiences, the lives I’ve observed, and the questions they leave me with.
\nPersonally, I hope to someday have the luxury of taking at least a year away from earning a living.
\nNot necessarily to discover the next big idea, reinvent myself, or return as a more productive person.
\nJust to experience what it means to have that much time without having to worry about the state of my existence afterwards.
\nI look forward to that possibility, hopefully in the not-so-distant future.
\nAlthough, there is one thing I haven’t quite figured out.
\nAfter spending so much of my life learning how to keep going, would I even know what to do with the freedom to stop?
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