Which is both self-deprecatingly flippant (in his mild way) and wry understand of Seoraj's feelings on it. Bruce can't believe in god; he's just not wired for it. Between being a scientist and being a humanist, he finds the entire affair puzzling at best and wholly embittering at worst. That he has tangled with his fair share of supposed deities has only enforced his lack of belief.
But.
"..A long time ago, I was in a country high in the mountains. There's a lake there, called Namtso. Every winter the lake freezes over solid, and those seeking absolution, or those making pilgrimage, walk out over the ice and make camp. The ice melts and they're left there; boats are forbidden near the islands, and it's too far to swim. They walk back over the ice the next winter."
There's conversation down the hall, and Bruce pauses to look over - absent, almost, because it's clear they aren't going to be disturbed; apparently they look enough like they belong there that no one cares. But it's nice to have a little moment in which to be still. This is as many words as he's said to anyone at once in... weeks, really. Maybe more.
Eventually: "It was just spring, and the ice was so weak it'd melted near the shore. One last man swam two kilometers back, in the freezing water, dragging his robes. He laid there on the bank, exhausted, and I asked him if he learned anything about himself. He was smiling, and he said, 'Almost.'"
no subject
Which is both self-deprecatingly flippant (in his mild way) and wry understand of Seoraj's feelings on it. Bruce can't believe in god; he's just not wired for it. Between being a scientist and being a humanist, he finds the entire affair puzzling at best and wholly embittering at worst. That he has tangled with his fair share of supposed deities has only enforced his lack of belief.
But.
"..A long time ago, I was in a country high in the mountains. There's a lake there, called Namtso. Every winter the lake freezes over solid, and those seeking absolution, or those making pilgrimage, walk out over the ice and make camp. The ice melts and they're left there; boats are forbidden near the islands, and it's too far to swim. They walk back over the ice the next winter."
There's conversation down the hall, and Bruce pauses to look over - absent, almost, because it's clear they aren't going to be disturbed; apparently they look enough like they belong there that no one cares. But it's nice to have a little moment in which to be still. This is as many words as he's said to anyone at once in... weeks, really. Maybe more.
Eventually: "It was just spring, and the ice was so weak it'd melted near the shore. One last man swam two kilometers back, in the freezing water, dragging his robes. He laid there on the bank, exhausted, and I asked him if he learned anything about himself. He was smiling, and he said, 'Almost.'"