The Artist Who Made Me Go — How Ren’s Music Sparked a 13-Month Sabbatical

Last updated: April 2, 2026

How a song, a hospital room, and grief turned into a 13-month sabbatical — this is the story of my Ren music sabbatical and how one artist changed everything.

I need to tell you about a song.

But first, I need to tell you about a hospital room.

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A hospital room in July

It was July 2023. At the time, my father was in a bed at Community Medical Center, and I was sitting in a chair beside him that felt like it had been designed by someone who had never actually sat in a chair.

He had colon cancer. In fact, he was diagnosed several years prior but thought he was in remission until he wasn’t.

His health deteriorated quickly. The cancer metastasized to his bones, and the pain became constant. Around me, the room was filled with the noises of a hospital—soft beeping, air vents, and the sound of nurses moving down the hall. Sounds of patients in other rooms were calling out for help. I took time away from my job to care for him. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Making decisions when he couldn’t. Maybe I’ll write more about him in future blog posts. I didn’t have the best relationship with him, but I’ll save that for another time.

By then, my mother had died eight years earlier. I was an only child.

So it was just me.

Me in the chair. Just me in the room. Me in the silence between the beeping.

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The music that started it all

Then, somewhere during those weeks, YouTube did what its algorithm always does: it handed me a video I didn’t ask for.

Unexpectedly, it appeared between a cooking video and something I’d already watched twice.

The thumbnail was unremarkable, so I almost scrolled past.

Now, the song was “Hi Ren.”

If you want to understand the rest of this story, you should probably watch it first.

I’ll wait.

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If you’ve just come back from that video, then you probably understand why it’s difficult to explain.

It’s nine minutes long, and it’s essentially a conversation between the different voices in your own head. Especially the voice that tells you you’re not enough. That you’re broken. That you should stop trying.

Typically, most songs try to defeat that voice.

Yet this one doesn’t.

Ren lets it speak. He actually listens. He answers honestly.

And then somewhere along the way you realize you’ve been holding your breath for most of the song.

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So I watched it once.

Then I immediately started it again.

By the end of the second listen, I was crying. The kind that comes from somewhere deeper than you expect.

For the first time in a long time, I felt understood in a way that surprised me. More than that, something about the song forced me to look inward—to see patterns in my life I’d spent years quietly ignoring. I didn’t know it yet, but Ren’s music was planting the seed for a sabbatical that would change my life.

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Who is Ren?

If you’ve never heard of Ren, here then is some background:

Ren Gill is a musician from Brighton, England. He spent much of his twenties battling Lyme disease and related autoimmune complications that left him unable to perform or even play music for long stretches. He still suffers from residual autoimmune issues.

Remarkably, no label. No marketing machine. Just a camera, a guitar, and a small group of friends.

He is extraordinary. He raps, sings, plays multiple instruments, writes characters, and builds entire stories inside a single song.

But ultimately that’s not why he matters to me.

He matters because his music is about something most art quietly avoids:

Specifically, what it actually feels like to be human when being human is hard.

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After my father died, I kept listening.

“Chalk Outlines.”
“For Joe.”
“Penitence.”

Each song did something different.

But underneath, they essentially all did the same thing: they made grief feel survivable. They made me feel seen for once.

Not smaller.

Not resolved.

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The thought i couldn’t ignore

Eventually, a thought started appearing in my head.

Quietly at first.

Clearly, I need to change my life.

Still, I ignored it for a while.

But thoughts like that don’t disappear. Instead, they get louder.

Particularly when you’re sitting in a house full of your dead parents’ furniture and realizing you’ve been living someone else’s definition of “fine.”

In short, “Fine” looked like spreadsheets, conference calls, and a calendar booked six weeks out.

Stable. Predictable.

And obviously, increasingly hollow.

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Looking back, that was the beginning of what I now think of as my sabbatical.

Although I just didn’t know it yet.

Ultimately, it took another year before the idea became real. A year of spreadsheets, logistics, lease-ending math, and figuring out how to step away from the life I’d spent decades building. (I wrote about what that feels like.)

Eventually, it became a plan.

21 countries. 13 months. Essentially, a route that makes sense if you squint and tilt your head.

Trains across Europe. Long-haul flights to Asia…with just a backpack.

Why this sabbatical starts in England

And when I started mapping the beginning of the trip, I realized something.

Of course, it had to start in England.

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Not a beach.

Not a temple.

Not on a mountain somewhere.

A festival. Well, three festivals, actually.

Obviously, watching Ren play live.

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The thirty seconds that made it real

In fact, I actually met him once.

Last year, during New York Fashion Week.

He was walking in a charity runway show called Project Lyme, raising money for Lyme disease research—the disease that had stolen most of his twenties.

All told, the interaction lasted maybe thirty seconds.

A handshake. Then a few words.

I remember his face. He was taller than I expected. I remember the noise around us fading for a moment while my brain tried to process something simple:

After all, this is the person whose music got me through the worst year of my life and whos music has helped me start to sort out what’s important.

And he had absolutely no idea.

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Without question, it was the highlight of my year.

Not a vacation. Not a promotion or milestone.

Essentially, a thirty-second conversation with a musician.

And strangely, that moment made something clear.

Thirty seconds wasn’t enough.

Not because the moment was disappointing.

Because it made me want the real experience.

The set list. That crowd. The feeling of being surrounded by people who discovered his music the same way I did.

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Where this journey begins

So this sabbatical begins August 3rd.

First, I fly to London, then down to Newquay for Boardmasters, a festival on the Cornish coast where Ren is performing.

Then, five days later I’ll head to Brighton.

Then to Boomtown, a massive immersive festival near Winchester that feels less like a concert and more like stepping into another world. Ren is performing there too.

After Boomtown I’ll head back to Brighton for a few weeks.

Then I’ll finish the month in London at All Points East, where Ren will be on stage one more time before the trip properly begins.

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I’ve heard his music hundreds of times.

In hospital rooms. Inside my apartment. In moving trucks. On business trips.

Hearing it live, in a field somewhere, surrounded by thousands of other people who found the music the same way I did?

Honestly, I don’t know what that will feel like.

But I suspect it might break something open in the best possible way.

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The Renegades

Naturally, there’s a community around Ren’s music. Fans call themselves the Renegades. During my trip to NYC to see him at the charity event, I met a lot of Renegades. It was a wonderful experience for me to meet people who enjoy his artwork. I look forward to seeing some of them again in the UK.

Notably, it’s not a fandom in the screaming-at-airports sense.

It’s more like a support group that happens to have a very good soundtrack.

For example, if you read the YouTube comments under his songs, people share the moment they found the music:

Cancer diagnoses.
Divorce.
Addiction.
The death of a child.

Truly, it’s the most honest comments section on the internet.

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The Big Push — a rehearsal for the main event

In May, I’m flying to London for a band called The Big Push— Ren is a member and his bandmates Romain Axisa, Gorran Kendall, and Glenn Chambers. They are all amazing artists in their own right.

Definitely not a runway.

Not a quick moment in a crowded room.

Rather, the real thing.

A full set. A crowd that knows every word.

As of now, three months before this Ren music sabbatical begins.

In essence, a rehearsal for the emotional main event.

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This sabbatical — following the thread that pulled me through

Certainly, I’m not naive about what I’m doing here.

Admittedly, building the opening chapter of a sabbatical around a musician I’ve technically met once, briefly, at a fashion show… that’s a lot.

But grief does something interesting to your sense of priorities.

After all, when both of your parents are gone, when the career you’ve built starts to feel like a costume you’ve been wearing too long, when you’re 48 years old staring at a spreadsheet with seventeen tabs…

Suddenly, you stop pretending the safe answer is the right one.

Instead, you follow the thread that actually pulled you through.

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Ren’s music pulled me through. That’s why this became a Ren music sabbatical before anything else.

Truly, the festivals are where that music exists in three dimensions.

And this sabbatical is what happens when you stop listening from the sidelines and start walking toward the stage.

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Sadly, my father never heard Ren’s music.

Sometimes, I wish he had.

I think he would have especially liked the honesty of it.

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I don’t know if Ren will ever read this.

That’s okay.

This isn’t really for him.

It’s for anyone who’s ever had a song save their life and felt slightly embarrassed admitting it.

Don’t be.

That’s the whole point.

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I’ll see you in the UK!!!

I’ll be somewhere in the crowd.

A long way from that hospital chair. Read more about the journey.

Curious what kind of sabbatical suits you? Take the quiz.

Frequently Asked Questions

Who is Ren?

Ren (Ren Gill) is a British singer-songwriter known for raw, emotionally honest music that blends folk, hip-hop, and spoken word. His work often deals with illness, resilience, and finding meaning — which is part of why it resonates deeply with people going through major life transitions.

Where can I listen to Ren’s music?

Ren’s music is on all major streaming platforms — Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube. Start with Hi Ren, Sick Boi, or Money Game if you’ve never heard him before.

How did music factor into your decision to take a sabbatical?

Music — especially Ren’s — gave language to things I was already feeling but hadn’t articulated: the grief after losing my parents, the numbness of going through the motions, the pull toward something more intentional. The songs didn’t make the decision for me, but they made it harder to ignore what I already knew.

Are you actually going to see Ren perform on your trip?

Yes. I’m planning to see him live in London in May 2026, which is woven into the sabbatical itself. The music that helped spark the trip becomes part of the trip.