Wednesday, 11/3 -- The meaning of life. - OR - Uh oh, now he's talking to himself. - OR - I'm so full of crap, my eyes are brown.

Cancer hasn't given me any special powers to know the previously unknowable or to see beyond "normal" men... I've been contemplating my predicament and having this conversation with myself: What is the meaning of life? I found an answer, but one that seems to suite me.

It's hard to come up with an answer to that question, especially for someone that doesn't go to church any more. God always seems to muscle in on these philosophical discussions. They say that there are no atheists in foxholes, maybe the atheists are too smart to get themselves in that situation. But it's hard to argue against a cliche. When trying to answer the meaning of life, the tendency is to go grandiose in scope and perspective, to make it all much larger than ourselves. I can't see it that way; I can't make it all larger than the life I was given. It's all about me, remember?

So what's the meaning of life? Is it really "42"? At the end of the universe it very well could be. For me, right now, it's really moronically simple. In my imagined conversation with myself, I placed "me and I" at a nice Irish American pub, lots of wood, low lighting, no obnoxious 21-year-olds doing shooters. It's a little cold outside and there's a fire going in the pub's authentic fireplace. Besides the two mes there are a number of close friends enjoying each other's company and drinks. The conversation has narrowed down to the two mes. Before us are the remaining halves of a nicely drawn pints of Guinness and a plate of scraps from our shared nachos. I ask me, "So, now that you're faced with a life threatening illness, you must have insight to the meaning of life?" I smile and say the answer is sitting right in front of us. I pick up my pint and take another mouth full.

"What, the answer is getting drunk? That's pretty base. I'd expect more than that from you," I say.

"No, no. You're missing the forest for the trees, as we all often do."

"Then explain it to me."

"Right now I'm in a charming pub surrounded by close friends. I have a gut full of well-made nachos, our favorite food."

We nod.

"Each time I sip my drink, I savor it. I let the taste fill my mouth and tickle my throat. It makes me smile, genuinely smile. I don't even know that I'm smiling, it's just happening. That's the meaning of life."

"OK, I'm beginning to see. Go on."

"I'm enjoying the moment that I'm in. From one moment to the next. I didn't always do it in the past, now that I know what I know I plan on putting myself in these kinds of situations as often as possible."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, I know you were expecting more than that."

"A lot more, actually."

We take a drink.

"Well, if you think about it, really think about it, you may come to realize that that's all you really need. Enjoy the moment you are in. That's it! Everything else is bullshit we put ourselves through because we want to make our lives more meaningful. We play roles, we set goals, we push ourselves to work harder. We want what we haven't got, and we torture ourselves to get it."

He shifts in his seat and says, "That's life in the modern age. If we weren't that way we'd all be working entry-level jobs and living with our parents for the rest of our lives."

"True, I don't disagree with that. We need to grow, to learn, to let our curiosities take us where they may. There's a mind-blowingly beautiful world out there and we're not going to see it if we just sit in front of the TV all day. Nor do we see it if we've always got our noses to the grindstone."

"So what do we do?"

"We strike a balance. We follow our hearts. We judge our options and make our decisions. We work hard to reach our goals, and those goals should include: peace of mind, happiness, contentment, harmony, wisdom, hunger, courage and most importantly of all – the ability to give yourself permission to enjoy the moment you are in. It's ok to make lots of money and drive a little sports car, so long as in your heart you know that's what makes you truly happy. Long term happy, not waning gratification."

"This suddenly isn't quite so simple."

"Nothing ever is."

We both order a single malt scotch on the rocks. Glenlivet if they have it. We realize this is a scotch conversation.

He grins and says, "So are you enjoying the moments of your cancer?"

"Not at all, Mr. Smartypants. There's nothing to enjoy in this experience. Cancer is just one of those unavoidable life-things. Adversity. Road blocks and detours. Forks in the road. Getting lost without a map while low on gas."

"Enough with the driving analogies."

"Sorry, I get carried away. My point is that there are many things that we can't control. Things are going to come along occasionally and slap us in the face. A big splash of hot wax reality in our face. Everything gets turned upside down. All sensor readings are off the scale."

We finish off our Guinness and I continue, "It's not all that desperate, with adversity comes opportunity. Having your world explode gives you the gift of perspective to look at your life and see what's important... and what's not.

"Easier said than done, Brother."

"Actually, easier than I ever thought. In a moment things become crystal clear. You just look at yourself, your life and the people and things that surround you and you ask yourself, "Self, does this make me smile without thinking about smiling?" If the answer is yes, then give yourself a hug, you've made some great choices and enjoy the fruits of your labor. If the answer is no, then brother, you have some hard choices to make and maybe none of them are good."

We both gladly take the scotches from the waitress and take a drink before the glasses reach the table. The scotch makes us smile. We smile at each other, but it turns to a sad smile.

"It's only when you've lost everything that you're free to do anything," he says.

"That's true, but it doesn't have to be that dramatic... unless you've made some pretty bad choices from the start."

"So what are you doing with this new-found enlightenment? Are you cleaning house? Changing your life? Filling a mental Dumpster with sentimental white elephants?"

"No, not really. Luckily I find myself in a pretty good place. I'm happy with who I am, and the choices I've made to get to where I am. I know that nothing in the past, now or in the future will ever be perfect. I'm happy with friends and family I have around me. I accept that they are not perfect, I accept that I am equally imperfect. And that's just fine by me. I harbor no grudges and have no enemies... except for our white trash neighbors. I'd like to bulldoze them, house and all, down the hill and into the frigid creek out back. But I digress."

I continue, "Cancer has been a nuclear bomb in my life, so was being laid off, and so was failing at starting an antiques business. None of those things make me smile. All I can do is try and make the best of it all. I resolved that I'll try the antiques business again someday when it doesn't have to be our only means of support. ... I am still angry at being laid off the day after my honeymoon by a company, that over the years, had become my family. That anger has become tempered since being hired by a better ad agency that has quickly accepted me as family. My career is in a better place."

There is a moment of silence as I play with the little red stirring straw in my drink. He breaks the short silence.

"And the cancer? That's not something you can resolve on your own. Being sick is beyond your control. I'm dying to know how you're enjoying those moments when your face is over the toilet, or when you're stuck in the chemo chair for six hours, or when your whole body aches as you discover new meanings to the term "Not feeling well." Tell me, what's to smile about then?"

We take a sip of scotch. I can feel his frustration and sarcasm.

"Not a goddamned thing." I take another sip of scotch. Then another. "Only a simpleton smiles at everything. What I do in those unpleasant situations is to resolve to fight my way back to a time and place where I can enjoy the good moments. I fight because I don't know of any other acceptable option. I fight for the love of my wife, my family and friends. It is most often in their company that I enjoy the moment, that I smile without effort, that I enjoy life for what it has given me at that time. That's worth fighting for."

"It sounds hard, fighting something so overwhelming."

"Yes, it is hard. But as three modern day philosophers once said, "You have to fight for your right to party." Who knew that the Beastie Boys where offering advice for surviving chemotherapy."

I chuckle at my little joke. I have always had the bad habit of laughing at my own jokes. I guess you get that way when you talk to yourself.

I order another Guinness and rejoin the conversations at the table. I'm smiling. In doing so, I see the smiles of my friends reflecting my smile. How can life be any more grand?