gozzterLeave a Comment on I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks.

I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks.

Is there a difference between spontaneous inspiration, and building on ideas borrowed from another? I don’t mean stealing someone’s words, as much as being creative with them, motivated by them –changed in some sense by them. After all, we build on things, don’t we? By standing on the shoulders of others we can see further down the road.

The problem, though, is that there are some who only lead me down main streets, busy thoroughfares where I’ve already been. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the trip -a journey with someone is always different from the same trip taken alone- but my attention is divided then; if the mixture is pleasant but predictable, I am merely entertained. It’s only when we’re both so engaged in our ideas that the road we’ve taken disappears and something bigger expands in both our minds.

Perhaps that’s why we are social creatures, though, especially when the thoughts we share evolve in synergies where the whole is greater than the sum it’s parts. Those who can contribute to that are treasures, although sometimes unintentionally so…

I was intrigued by Ayr the first time I met him. He had moored his boat on the opposite slip to my tiny sailboat. I had just gone through a divorce, and he… well he never said, but his boat was much bigger than mine, so I suspected that his life was much different as well. At any rate, it was evident that we both liked to talk, and since it was starting to rain, we decided to go for a coffee at the marina’s restaurant.

I suppose neither of us thought we had anything but sailing in common, but that’s what coffee is for: an excuse to explore Life, and what it has offered thus far. I have to admit I thought we were destined for yet another busy street filled with banal pleasantries until he asked me whether I thought that referring to an illness as a battle was ever an appropriate metaphor.

I remember putting my still untasted doughnut back on my plate and having another sip of my coffee as I thought about it. I’d never really questioned that kind of depiction of illness before, and I was puzzled what sort of description might replace it. “How else could you represent it then…?”

He sat back in his chair and sighed. “Well, I wonder if illness is more of a challenge than a fight…” He gently stirred his coffee again with the metal spoon and let his eyes wander around the almost empty room. “I mean challenges muster a different sort of response than battles. You don’t just win or lose; you confront whatever it is and test your resolve don’t you?”

He had a good point. “But, maybe surviving, say, the flu fits better with the idea of a challenge than dealing with cancer or something…”

He smiled enigmatically, and I felt his eyes suddenly perch on my face. “Why are they different, G? Isn’t cancer even more of a challenge than the flu?”

I played with the doughnut on my plate. “Yes… but don’t you want to conquer cancer? That’s pretty warlike isn’t it?”

“You mean get rid of it forever?”

 I nodded.

“And if it comes back, is it yet another battle?”

I nodded again, but I could see where this was going.

His smile warmed. “So how is that so different from the flu?” He reached over to my plate and tore off a piece of the doughnut. “They’re both things you can probably never be sure will not come back… So why not accept the give and take that a challenge entails? Why not see a recurrence as an invitation to yet another contest? Another chance to prove your mettle?”

Whoa!

“Words matter, though…” He helped himself to another piece of doughnut. “For example, why is the flu, to stick with your example, just a disease, but cancer is… what, an uncontrolled division of cells? What is the flu, for goodness sakes? Or for that matter some other sort of ongoing infection?

“But we say we fight a cold, don’t we?”

He shrugged. “More likely you say you have a cold, or maybe suffer a cold…”

I could tell he was backing me into a corner… arguing me into a corner. I had to smile at his earnestness. “Are you a lawyer, Ayer? Are you just arguing a brief to try it out on me?”

His face lit up with a massive smile and then he chuckled. “You mean am I exploring arguendo -saying something for argument’s sake -as in arguing a hypothetical?”

“I love the word, Ayer…”

“So, how about asking whether I am being eristically argumentative?”

“Even better!”

But his face, although temporarily jovial, became serious again. “No, I’m not trying to be disputatious, I’m just…” He paused for a moment to consider how better to explain himself. “I’m just concerned with what losing a battle might mean for the soldier involved… Losing a challenge would suggest they could keep trying -you know, ‘practice makes perfect’ and all that…”

I wasn’t sure I knew him well enough to probe more deeply into his motivation, his determination to make his point. He didn’t look ill to me, and he did seem willing to joke about it, but we’d only just met.

We were both silent for a while, but when he finished the last remaining piece of my doughnut, he smiled. “Leukemia,” he said looking me right in the eye. “A challenging word, don’t you think?”

“I…”

“It challenges all sorts of the body’s defences, too, apparently. It’s sort of like watching a game of rugby from the stands. The players don’t hate each other; they’re not trying to shoot or knife each other on the field… It’s a game they both want to win, though.”

“But the body is trying to cure itself…”

He nodded. “And the disease wants to win, too doesn’t it? I mean there’s a half-time break -a series of remissions, I suppose- but the game usually starts again after each break.” He smiled and pushed his chair back from the table and looked out of the window at the rain. “Pathetic fallacy, eh?” He reached over and shook my hand as he stood up. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again, G; I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed our conversation. But I’ve got another doctor’s appointment tomorrow to find out whether I have another challenge to face.”

“My father always used to say ‘It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.’ Just remember that Ayer.”

He smiled bravely and disappeared out of the door and into the rain. I hope he heard that as a challenge rather than an actual fight -which I’m sure my father never meant- but I never saw his boat again.

I still look for it…

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