This one came to me at 3am this morning. I am not entirely certain if it was one of those crazy dreams - I guess we’ll find out if it makes any sense at the end!
The hypothesis: Life is not like a box of chocolates but instead is like “Playing Giant Jenga on a Travelator”
Before we start, I feel like we need a glossary:
- Giant Jenga - a game usually played in modern pubs - it consists of having to meticulously build a tower of large wooden blocks and hoping it doesn’t fall down when one is taken away
- Travelator - a moving walkway, typically at an airport
Now, the idea goes like this. Each one of us is on our own unique Travelator. There are billions of them traversing across the landscape. None of us can see where the Travelator is going (imagine the path ahead is pitch black, or pitch white if you prefer to avoid the connotations of black representing darkness - it is basically shielded from view). At birth, our parents give us one Giant Jenga wooden block. As children, our Travelator is attached to our parents (or guardian, or whoever is looking after us, or no one in those sad cases where it is no one). Then, as adults we branch off, heading in our own direction, but often still in the vicinity of those closest to us. Through education, privilege, luck, talent, love, etc, we begin to accumulate these Giant Jenga blocks and start building our own towers. We don’t know why, but it is innate within us to want to build a good tower. For some, that would mean the tallest, for others it might be the strongest, or prettiest, or most individualistic, whatever is most important to us individually. We are aware of the black, or white, or whatever is out of view at the end of the Travelator, but for most, it doesn’t occupy our minds too much and we get on with building our towers. We might meet others along the way and choose to combine our towers, maybe start a new Travelator and pass on one of our bricks to our offspring. We spend our lives building these towers. Sometimes, we notice others seem to have a bigger, or prettier, or stronger towers and that makes us jealous. Sometimes we might see someone without any bricks and choose to give up some of ours to help them. We can experience a myriad of life events which cause us to wobble and lose some of our bricks.
And this is where cancer comes in. Cancer is an obstacle on the Travelator. It is not a once size fits all obstacle and impacts each person differently. It might be a small bump and you regain your balance quite quickly, but I don’t think anyone gets away without losing at least some bricks. It might be such a large and unexpected obstacle that it knocks you off the Travelator permanently, and you fall down (or up if you prefer) into the black, (or white) and never reappear. Or you might end up somewhere in between - badly wounded, your Giant Jenga tower a complete mess, with you left to pick up the pieces. You may be left clinging on to the side of the Travelator with all bricks completely destroyed.
Whatever the impact, the obstacle suddenly makes you focus on what is there at the end of the Travelator. You realise how fragile the Travelator is and how close you came to falling off. You might have noticed some friends or family disappearing off the Travelator and wonder where they have gone. It may be only a fleeting focus on the end of the Travelator and you may get back to building a new tower with haste - indeed, you may realise that you were building the tower completely incorrectly before the cancer obstacle arrived and you want to build a better one. For others, what is at the end of the Travelator becomes all-consuming and you lose interest in building any more towers.
That’s when a search for answers as to what lies at the end of the Travelator might start. Some on the Travelator are convinced that this is not the only Travelator and that a new, better Travelator waits at the end. That whoever started the Travelator has got our backs. Others are convinced there is nothing at the end and so they use the time they have left to build the tower they’ve always wanted to build, while they can. Some are paralysed by fear and turn their back on the end and pretend it is not there. Others decide that what is at the end of the Travelator does not matter, and it is much better to focus on building towers until the day comes when the end arrives. Others sadly decide that they have had enough of building towers and jump off, or put themselves so close to the edge in the hope that the next obstacle will easily topple them off.
So, where this 3am revelation leaves me, I’m not sure. It has helped me make sense of a few things, but it hasn’t provided any answers.
Maybe the most important thing I’ve reminded myself of is that I don’t really like Giant Jenga - I’d much prefer a game of darts or pool!
