For let it go how it will, he said, God speaks in the least of creatures. The kid thought him to mean birds or things that crawl but the expriest, watching, his head slightly cocked, said: No man is give leave of that voice. The kid spat into the fire and bent to his work. I aint heard no voice, he said. When it stops, said Tobin, you'll know you've heard it all your life. Is that right? Aye.
In this excerpt from "Blood Meridian" by Cormac McCarthy, a conversation unfolds where one character reflects on the nature of God's presence in the world. The expriest suggests that God's voice can be found in even the smallest creatures, provoking curiosity in the child. Initially, the kid misunderstands this notion, thinking of animals, but Tobin clarifies that it transcends ordinary perception. The kid, dismissive, claims he hears nothing, while Tobin insists that the recognition of this divine voice is an intrinsic part of existence.
This dialogue captures a profound exploration of awareness and spirituality. Tobin implies that true understanding is a lifelong journey, suggesting that the voice of God has been part of the kid's experience all along, even if he remains oblivious. The exchange highlights the tension between skepticism and the search for meaning, illustrating how some truths may be subtle yet ever-present in the fabric of life.
