Our Human Leash

I drove home from Ft. Benning in a 1976 CJ-5 Jeep. Even at the time, it was an old, beat -up ride. While crossing the country, I experienced an unparalleled sense of freedom. After I returned home to care for my father, I soon questioned the usefulness of the strap around my wrist. In the Army, punctuality was required. That watch served me well. But in my new roll, I was the one with the plan. I had a new relationship with time. So, I removed the leash.

Wealth is the definition of living without a leash. Money fundamentally renders control over space, silence, and time. When you're the one with the funds, people wait for you. Large estates primarily provide extensive personal space and the ability to maintain a level of silent serenity. Why else get rich if not to come and go as you please, surround yourself with only the people and things you choose, and be able to find the peace and quite you deserve. For the rest of us, we have to go where we are told, do what we must, endure those we don't like, and complete all this by a certain time, under questionable conditions. Just like a dog, the masses must respond to a leash.

The current incarnation is new and shinny. It's smart. And it digs deep into your psyche. It capitalizes every aspect, every corner of your life. You don't only feel naked without it, you long for it when separated for even a moment. It's so cool and it's your phone. How much of your time, your space, and your solitude is exchanged for you complete attention on that small screen? What are we becoming?

How many of us do any number of things with this thing in our hand we would never do without it? Walking down the street while talking on the phone, minus the phone, and you look like a crazy person. Driving while texting, minus the device, and you're simply a slumped-forward tragedy waiting to happen. Exchanging texts about things instead of talking, sending photos instead of sharing physical space, watching others embarrass themselves on YouTube for a cheap thrill, filming reality instead of participating in it … the list is long. We act in ways we would not if not for this noose around our soft-stuff.

When will we confront reality and decide to dissolve the leash? Using a tool is so much different than being one. If the world around us can no longer compete with the world inside our phones, how are we fundamentally different from the pods of humans in the Matrix? Do our devices serve us or do we serve them?

The primary question is: how tight is the leash? The most simple answer is in the form of this question: when and for how long did you last leave it off?