Against the erasure. Against the inability to think.
The physical struggle of the last several months, as described in this blog, usually with considerable understatement, is merely the engine-room difficulties. Scotty's bailiwick. The real fight has been, once I survived the night or the day, to focus the mind sufficiently on the work.
It is odd, to have a geist of which no one knows (or really has reason to know, or care), and that quite logically would be snuffed out by these struggles. But if that were ever the case, it would be better not have survived the difficulties.
My private understanding and reason will not have been in vain. That is the concept of the struggle.