At first he offered few opinions of his own, only gut-level reactions
when they would not be silenced, which the woman-child must then
decipher on her own. Not only did he feel unqualified to do so---the
very word ‘philosophy' intimidated him, seeming a thing reserved
for larger and more important persons---but also, some other sense told
him that it was unwise to speak or pass judgment upon things he did not
fully understand.
But after a time, having whole days to mull over what he had learned
(when hunting, trapping and working did not require his full attention),
he began to speak and question at a level which surprised her. Not only
would she have believed him incapable of such subtle thought and
inquiry, but she had always assumed that he would consider such pursuits
frivolous, and beside the immediate point of survival. Such was not the
case. His mind and spirit hungered, just as the body did, to be
nourished and fulfilled. And in some ways this spiritual hunger was
more acute, since it had been so long denied.
His two favorite writer/philosophers, to judge by the number of times he
asked her to read them, were Ernest Hemingway and Lao Tsu. And this
apparent contradiction puzzled her. She could not imagine two more
directly opposed outlooks, or approaches to life.
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