Member-only story
an Art of Dying fragment
I was taking a Sea Org break. As it happened, I never returned; but for now, it was just a break. A short break to make some money, pay some debts I decided I had, and then return.
It began as a two-months CO FB (Commanding Officer Flag Bureaux, who happened to also be a good friend of mine) approved leave of absence that morphed into an additional LRH approved year, and then a second Prince-approved year, and then my daughter Jenna arrived and soon thereafter the no-children-in-the-Sea-Org edict arrived and fatherly I was stranded ashore while the Sea Org sailed on without me. Oh, well. Probably for the best.
(In the interest of full disclosure let me add that I did, eventually, after nearly thirty years, return to the Sea Org bosom for a short spell — see the fragment called Angry Children.)
Deven, my then (and for the next twenty years) wife, was a U.S. Citizen (still is) and suggested that we would probably have more opportunities to make the money I needed for my debts (for me to know and for you to not) in America, and yes, I agreed: let’s go there.
But even there, how was I to make money? I didn’t have any resources, nor any contacts, nor any particular skills, and neither did Deven — well, she did have some fruitful contacts as it turned out.
