Cheap Philosophy, Aisle 3

*** continued from previous post ***

She then recounted our afternoon, and our early evening journey to the Lodge three days hence. I didn't come out in the most positive light during her monologue but she had the basic facts straight. When she was done with her story, in all of its messy detail chock-full of near death experiences, the group, which had fallen silent as your Mother spoke, now turned to study me.

I grinned, and brought my hands palm-up in front of my chest. With a shrug I said, "Whatcha gonna do?"

Desperate to regain respect, I put on my best philosopher / old man face, narrowed my eyes and gently stroking my beard said, "Sometimes the only way out is through."

HA! Take that oh table' du Canadian. Chew on that bon-mot of irrefutable logic. Wrestle that paradox to the ground for an ephiney courtesy of this bald American biker! No need to thank me for enlightenment. You're welcome.

"Or sometimes," Terrence said, "sometimes the only way out is not to set on the path at all."
Gah! Evidently I had seriously underestimated Terrence. After filing that platitude away to later claim as my own I said, "But I think you'll agree, you cannot travel the path until you become the path."

Oh yeah, that just happened. I hurled The Buddha at you like a rotten tomato at the festival of La Tomitina in Bunyol, Spain.

Terrance chewed on this a bit. "Many are stubborn in the path they have chosen, few in pursuit of the goal."

Oh he did not just hit me upside the head with Nietzche! This required a rapid and deliberate response. Go and get all existential on me, will you? I looked him square in the eye. "A well-beaten path does not always make the right road."

Refute that Mr. Man.

Although I had delivered what I thought was a killing blow, Terrence took a deep breath prepared his response. Damn. I was all out of quotes and proverbs concerning a path. If he answered I was going to have to start making up crap.

"The best path through life is a highway." Terrence tossed this into the conversation with ease. Pleased with himself he added "That's Henri Amiel."

I studied this man - this Doctor. The table, now thoroughly engaged in our little repartee turned to me as if they were watching ping-pong. Or tennis. Or a really bad duel. Damn. Double-dog damn. I scrambled. There was naught to be done but open my mouth and see what would spill out.

"The path is long and arduous, yet even the rat packs a lunch."

Terrence blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally he said, "I have no idea what that means."

"Welcome to my world," I said. "I haven't a clue as to what I'm talking about three-fifths of the time."

Terrence laughed and I heard Robert giggle.

"That must be difficult."

Your mom, who had been following our tit-for-tat with mild amusement said, "You have no idea."

"Ah my dear," I said, putting an arm around Mom's shoulder, "what you call my ramblings I call entertainment."

"Okay sweetie," Mom said, patting my arm.



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