Philosophy and Zoology
Oct. 18th, 2004 09:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
talktoolooseIt was a beautiful weekend despite the rain on Friday and Saturday. The cool weather makes it hard to get out of bed, but once I hit that fresh air, my heart sings. Fall is the most glorious of seasons -- sad and liberating.
I'm reading Ursula K. Leguin's The Farthest Shore and, as she does in the other Earthsea books, she weaves in a lot of philosophical muscle. I will let the following quote stand without comment, other than to say that it resonates deeply in me.
Just before they plunge into action, the Archmage Sparrowhawk sits quietly in his boat and speaks to the young prince, Arren:
On to zoology:
What, I wonder, does our cat think our dog is? He must know he's not a human, as they are down at the same level and eat from the same corner of the floor. Yet when he's meowing for food and the hard-hearted humans are telling him that he'll have to wait until feeding time, he turns to the dog and gives a half-meow as a last resort. Also, the cat knows he shouldn't be licking the humans' oatmeal bowls if they are left empty on the table. But this morning, Tutu spotted him sneakily sticking his snout in for some hearty, pink-tongued licks. When the dog suddenly ran into the kitchen, the cat turned his back to the bowl and pretended he hadn't been anywhere near it.
I'm reading Ursula K. Leguin's The Farthest Shore and, as she does in the other Earthsea books, she weaves in a lot of philosophical muscle. I will let the following quote stand without comment, other than to say that it resonates deeply in me.
Just before they plunge into action, the Archmage Sparrowhawk sits quietly in his boat and speaks to the young prince, Arren:
I do not want to go among men again tomorrow... I've been pretending that I am free... That nothing's wrong in the world. That I'm not the Archmage, not even sorcerer. That I'm... without responsibilities or privileges, owing nothing to anyone... Try to choose carefully, Arren, when the great choices must be made. When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.
On to zoology:
What, I wonder, does our cat think our dog is? He must know he's not a human, as they are down at the same level and eat from the same corner of the floor. Yet when he's meowing for food and the hard-hearted humans are telling him that he'll have to wait until feeding time, he turns to the dog and gives a half-meow as a last resort. Also, the cat knows he shouldn't be licking the humans' oatmeal bowls if they are left empty on the table. But this morning, Tutu spotted him sneakily sticking his snout in for some hearty, pink-tongued licks. When the dog suddenly ran into the kitchen, the cat turned his back to the bowl and pretended he hadn't been anywhere near it.
