It’s Sunday and well….it’s Sunday. My self-imposed exile from work on Wednesday afternoon plays out as usually when I have more than two days off of work. I spend the first two days fretting about how I should be working, the third day finally unwinding and the fourth day realizing NOW I need to proceed with REAL time off. It takes that long to disconnect. Except, it’s Sunday and I have to reconnect everything and get strapped back in so as to charge off again in the morning. And I will because I am good at that. I am not very good at disconnecting. Disconnection is not an impulsive act. I don’t karate chop through my bindings and have sudden, rash freedom. Disconnection is a slow untangling of all that binds me. And often, the desire to disconnect from one thing mandates disconnection from other things you wish to retain. To unbind and unwind is not a selective process it is not cherry picking. It’s shaving. It’s bush hogging. In an emergency, this method works as an escape function, an eject button. But, to truly disconnect requires discernment and presence. There is no engagement needed for an ejector seat other than to be strapped in tightly, which already existed for proper take off. But to disconnect, I must stay still and focus on the act of disengagement. A seat belt doesn’t disconnect itself. If it did, flight attendants wouldn’t spend time at take off giving us instructions.
And so, on this Sunday, I begin all my pre-flight check list in preparation for Monday. I really wish someone would cancel my flight and leave me stranded here a bit longer.