In The Razor’s Edge, Larry calls it loafing. He has returned from a tour of duty as an ambulance driver in the war. He was damaged before we had a diagnosis for it. He was not unhappy. He was not going to marry the rich and beautiful girl as expected, nor join her father’s industry just to be set in life.

He wanted to be untethered. A soul adrift. Seeking meaning.

The book is a lovely mish-mash of stream of consciousness, time jumps, and a 4th wall break that was very ahead of its time. Many would say On Human Bondage was his greatest work, like Kerouac and On the Road. I’m going with Dharma Bums, The Rum Diares, and The Razor’s Edge. Go figure.

I am in a brief moment of drift. What is next has not begun. What is past is slowly, stubbornly, vaporizing into memory rather than physical ache. It must be done.

Now that my craft is ready, it’s odd, I’m not leaving. I’m not waiting either. The new “her” was a shooting star. She will never receive the incoming messages. They were aimed into space, not at her directly. She does arouse my suspicions. I am a patron of the arts. She is a young performer. Courtesy is the order of the day. Not a partnership.

I get it. And I’m fine being adrift for the moment. Other pressing matters are at hand. I still have the cybersecurity contract work, if I can manage to keep my head in the rarified air of my ascendence. I am no longer tethered to the ground, to a woman, to a son failing all preflight handshakes. He will not be coming with Sid, Hunter, and me.

Adrift in his own rented spacecraft. He shared his recent weaponry pic when I asked about his availability for the zombie apocalypse. My tennis team was impressed. I was frightened. Not shocked really. Not worried either. The joke about the shooter over the weekend being my son… Well, that just about sums up where I’m at with that leash. He is his own sponsor, higher power, and life coach.

Daughter is aloof but doing as she pleases. I think back to the devastating loss in our divorce. I lost her, or most of her. My time with my kids was dialed back to 30%. There was not enough oxygen for me to be healthy. I did survive. I passed through several dark nights of the soul to get here. The dawn is cheerful. 7:43 am, May 19.

Let the ship’s log show that all cross-checks have been completed. The fuel system is topped off and pressure checked. The helium leak is no longer an issue. Sid was embarrassed at missing the flashing red light.

“It’s no big deal,” I said a few minutes ago. I could tell she was sulking a bit. “Just learn from your mistake.”

Of course, the cats don’t actually talk back to me. That’s the plant magic talking, there. (LOL CATS)

I have not plotted a new course yet. I am waiting for her, and yet, I’m not waiting for anyone or anything. The lines of credit are still down, but I will recover that as well. Honestly, this crash landing was not near as harsh as my rude forced exit from my family home.

I knew. I knew, and I fell apart knowing. My son needed me. He was fragile since his six months in a leg-fracture-cast-wheelchair in 3rd or 4th grade. I don’t remember, exactly, but they were in the portable buildings behind the school. In the wealthiest district in the state, the schools couldn’t keep up with the growth. This year, they shuttered the second elementary school in that neighborhood. The wealthy are sending their kids to private schools. The tax revenues are falling. And large parcels of land are being harvested for massive apartment complexes.

That’s a different class of people. Even condos in a rich neighborhood are frowned upon, yet you are welcome to pay HOA dues.

Pulling back the camera a bit, from my semi-ecstatic repose in the Captain’s chair, the drone shot lifts up and over the crash site and debris of the wreck. I see now that it’s my house. The house my mom’s death and legacy provided the down payment for. The navigation, maintenance, and objectives are up to me. The ship is solid. Provides me with all I need. Almost.

I know she is out there. I feel my sister Sidney every day. Tears well up as I’m typing this. If you get one thing from this book, let it be this.

Time is not relative. Einstein was close. Vonnegut will be credited with the discovery of time as a loop. All time at once. All beings are part of one big spiritual network. Your satisfaction in life is how well you tune yourself to the higher frequencies. Let go of the pain and sadness you are dragging behind you.

A scene in The Mission. Robert DeNiro is following Jeremy Irons up the sheer rock face near a waterfall in Brazil. They are missionaries bringing Christ into the Jungle. Behind him, he drags his heavy armor in a bag tethered to him by a rope. The climb is life or death. It is not looking good.

The second man climbs over and cuts the rope. The armour smashes away, exploding against the rocks and showering the riverbed with clanging and smashing of the metal fragments hitting the stone. Both men continue to the top.

DeNiro’s shame and release at the top of the waterfall is complete oblivion. Now, he can move on to complete his mission. The care and pain of these two men, two warriors, two heavy souls, well… You need to watch it. When I used to lead men’s groups up in New Mexico, we would often use the movie as a trigger. We often did not make it very far past the two men consoling each other.

The pain and shame are universal. Letting it go: human.

It says everything about untethering. Do not carry other people’s pain. Manage your own suffering with mindfulness, optimism, and easy release. I can’t tell you it was easy leaving behind the beautiful copilot. Incoming messages still ping against the windows of the ship.

Unanswered.

back to the Untethering index

Note from “time + space = love” – read here
In John Oakley McElhenney’s hyperfiction lexicon, the “Bone Thread” is defined as a “funny, blunt name for physical intimacy.