Heard in the Oak Grove

Sun shone through the tiny crack between the curtains of his bedroom window,
the slow flood of light gently waking him. His eyes opening gradually, he was greeted by
wonderful surroundings--a lot of which he had created himself during his habitation of
this manor, deep in the English countryside.
Parting the curtains, he looked out upon the seemingly endless forest that lay at
the foot of his vegetable garden and fruit orchard. "Farewell my friends; today I visit the
city," he stated aloud, his attention directed to all the creatures, plant and animal alike,
anywhere near his home.
A young man, he was born to rather a privaleged family. As such, he was free to
spend his time as he wished, which he chose to fill with creative pursuits. He was
eternally grateful for the gift of time and ease that his life had been blessed with.
It was unusual for him to visit the capital. However, on this sunny winter's day,
the city had called to him in the form of an exhibition of instruments from around the
world. This proved hard to ignore, the temptation of adding to his collection of
instruments too immense. And so, he boarded the train to begin the many-houred
journey, with only his mind to pass the hours; this, he found, was one of the greatest ways
to spend time.
The exhibition all he had hoped for, he could be seen a few hours later carrying a
newly acquired instrument (originally descended from far Eastern lands) through the
aging city streets. And yet, this purchase was not the only event that captured him during
his visit.
On his journey to the station, he found himself in the middle of a crowd, parted in
the centre to make way for seemingly very important people. Secretly, he scoffed at the
idea of admiring fellow humans for the sake of tradition--the reason he was not in the
habit of attending events of high society, despite the invitations.
It was not long before the highly esteemed individuals passed through. He
wondered to himself when his last visit to the city had been, as it surprised him not to
recognise the entirety of the royal family in their carriage. In particular, his eyes were
drawn to a young woman who sat in the back, clearly forcing a smile for the onlookers,
as she had no doubt been told to do. Who was it, he wondered, quickly reaching the
conclusion that only a member of the royal family may take a place in the carriage.
As the crowd dispersed following the passing, his journey continued. Despite
bearing his new item of music beside him on the train, his mind drifted around the girl
and little else. Indeed, for the following weeks, while deep in thought as always, his new
friend visited him often.

A number of weeks passed and his life continued as normal, filled with the
wonderful activities of designing the world around him in ever-increasing beauty.
Sitting in front of his piano one day, pen in hand, he was distracted by a noise.
Walking to the door to answer the knock, he opened the door to be handed a letter
addressed to him. Thanking the provider and closing the door, he wondered who it it had
originated from. After parting the sealed paper and briefly examining the note, it was
quickly put on a small pile, out of habit for anything from the individuals of wealth in the
country. However, after he returned to his composition, the young royal returned to him.
A few weeks later, he was once again in London, only this time with a rather
different destination. Upon arrival at the palace, he was clearly different than others.
Surrounded by intensely ornate outfits of elaborate colours, he stood alone in his
carefully chosen outfit of dark cloth. Attention was also drawn to his shoulder-length
hair, accompanied by his long side-burns. Occasionally intrigued looks were directed
towards him, but the few that recognised him had accepted that he was original long ago.
He was, after all, for those who could look past what they thought of as oddities, a rather
dashing young man.
Not in the habit of attending such events, he wasn't recognised immediately by the
royal hands, who took their duty by the towering doors of the palace hall. However, it
was not necessary for him to even speak, as, upon receiving a authoritative whisper from
behind, they apologised profusely and immediately led him to his seat.
Time was taken in brief conversation with others around him, but when the royal
family arrived, in the short greeting queue was where he waited. As he knew almost all
of them already, there was only one that it was necessary to speak with when he reached
the front of the line.
His eyes peering towards her, he took her hand in his as was customary, placing a
soft kiss upon it. Never turning his gaze away, he nodded slowly, smiling at her.
"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am." His hand from hers, he carefully stepped back, their eyes
still locked, and made his way back to his chair. Her face slowly regained its pale colour
as she once again sat mostly ignored by the well-wishers.
"You are skilled in philosophy, are you not?" a gentlemen asked him some time
later, as they sat eating.
"Why, I don't know about skilled! Trained and in the habit of pondering, yes," he
responded.
"How would you feel about instructing the young highness?" the gentlemen
continued.

A few days later, the princess stood on the doorstep of a countryside manor, her
servant knocking on the door. It was unusual for such a young royal to be away from the
palace for tuition, but, desiring the best, they had agreed for her to be instructed once per
week.
Closing the door, he took her coat, before leading her to his study. Lit by both the
calm light from the large windows and the glow of the fire, the room was naturally
illuminated, showing its many beauties. The princess's eyes gazed at the sketches and
designs of unusual buildings that filled the walls.
 "Whose designs are these?" she questioned.
"They are mine," he responded, a friendly smile on his face.
A quiet and comtemplative girl, she did not say much in return, although, as
indicated by the look on her face, it was clear that she was impressed.
In front of the fire sat two large sofas across from each other, grey in colour and
unusual but appealing in shape. The philosopher and the princess took their places on the
sofas.
"So, philosophy, what is it?" he questioned, sitting back to relax.
"Well, I'm not certain of all its details, but I believe its the study of thought," she
responded. "If I am not mistaken, it means 'love of widsom' in Greek."
Nodding and then pausing for a brief moment, he continued, "I wish to start each
of our sessions with a question...from you. For today, let us journey through my grounds
to inspire a question."
Together, they travelled to the various areas of the house, through his music room,
to his building workshop, among his well-tended vegetable garden. The focuses of the
rooms clearly different than any other house she had ever entered, she admired his
audacity to create an environment of his choosing.
"Why does your home bare so little resemblance to other homes I have visited?"
she started.
"What is found in a typical modern home?" he responded, pushing deeper.
"Well, I suppose people usually have a kitchen, dining room, living room and
bedrooms. Come to think of it, all houses I've visited have had these."
"What about your uncle who does not have immediate family?" he queried.
"Yes, even he has these rooms, despite not really having a need for most of them."
"As is common in philosophy, I like to ask why," he stated.
"Yes, why does he have all those rooms..." she started, before pausing.
"So, one has to ask, if my house is different, why have I chosen to make it so? I
am a creator, both in thought and in action. If I am to compose music most effectively, a
room filled with instruments is useful. And without a workshop, how would I create my
furniture? I have chosen a certain life for myself, and great architecture and design must
reflect this effectively."

Much of the following week until her next lesson was spent considering their
discussion. Clinging to each of his carefully chosen words, she greatly looked forward to
their next session. Indeed, this excitement continued every week after each of her visits
to his unusual and yet very comfortable home.
"Where are your servants and tenders of your grounds?" she asked, once again on
her sofa.
"An insightful and understandable question, my dear!" he responded. "I will ask
you this: what would life be like if you did not have servants?"
"Well, I suppose it would be more difficult," she replied, carefully contemplating
the difficult notion of living without the aid of others.
"Let us imagine: when you get up, what do you do?"
"My servants place my clothes on me..." she started, "which I could easily do
myself, I suppose."
"Yes, and you could even do so with more choice in your appearance, and even
privacy, should you value it. What happens next?"
"I sit at the dining table, where my breakfast is brought to me."
"Now, it may be daunting to you at the moment, having never done it, but I can
inform you with personal certainty of the pleasures of cooking. So, you have been up for,
what, half an hour in this hypothetical world, and without servants, you have already had
two wonderfully creative experiences--choosing your appearance and cooking that which
you wish to eat. But, as we philosophise, we should continue asking..."
"...why," she responded, a grin on her face.
"Precisely! Should we aim to create? Why or why not?" he furthered.
"Well, the few times I have had the opportunity to do so, I felt satisfaction in
producing something."
"I bet you did! I would also argue that creativity allows an individual to do
something new, which appears to give increased significance to a life, in addition to a
sense of freedom.
"I've wondered about freedom. Do servants wish to be servants?" she put forth.
"What was your conclusion?"
"I decided it was highly unlikely that they dreamed of serving others when they
were young."
"Yes, quite. One can imagine a world in which all beings are free from birth. You
have grown up surrounded by individuals who would fight against this notion, for they
believe their lives would have greater hardship. However, as we have discussed, minor
hardship is not necessarily negative. One of the reasons that individuals hold on to such
notions is this concept of tradition. Have you had much thought on tradition?"
"Hmm, what is tradition?" she pondered. "I suppose it's the pattern of actions that
have taken place before oneself; most individuals seem to feel a need to continue these
long-term habits."
"Now, unless there is some kind of logical basis, there is no reason to continue
taking an action," he added.
Pausing, she continued, "Just like all actions in life, in certain incidences, there
are valid reasons for doing things and at other times, there are not. In the case of
servitude, it's not reasonable to expect individuals to dedicate themselves to others."
"Precisely! Tradition is therefore largely irrelevent. Do what you believe is right
for the contentment of all, regardless of whether it has occurred before."

A year or so passed, each week the princess journeying from her home to learn
this applied philosophy. And yet, she had come to see that at its heart, philosophy was
simply life. Lucidity in one's thoughts ultimately should bring lucidity in one's actions,
as had clearly happened to her cherished tutor.
On a summer's day, the two took their place beside one another in his study, ready
to begin their in-depth discussions on all matters. She ritually began with a question: "If
I may, why do you not have a wife? You have all that would make a wonderful husband,
and father for that matter. Even in a traditional sense, in terms of what most people would
desire, you are wealthy and bear good looks..." She trailed off, wondering if too much
had been said.
"I'm pleased to hear you asking questions that interest you and not worrying about
my thoughts! All questions are valid, and I have nothing to hide from you, as in you, I
see open-mindedness. It is a difficult matter that you bring up that has certainly involved
much thought from me. In opposition to the current tactical arrangement of marriage
practised by wealthy families, I appreciate the freedom of spending my life with whom I
please. What should I base such a choice on?"
"Well, with contentment as the ultimate goal in life, I suppose you would want to
spend your days with someone who could share this sense of freedom and beauty with
you, perhaps even promote it further."
"Indeed, as I have thought. And yet, have you come across any individual who
may satisfy this?"
"Why no, I suppose not," she replied, quietly considering her own attributes.
"I have come to believe that one should not compromise on such matters. It's
mathematical in a way, simply a way of maximising contentment. For,what leads to the
least unhappiness, being alone or spending time with one who does not promote
greatness? I am happy alone and therefore I remain alone, although I do of course enjoy
imagining the day that I may regularly spend my time with one who truly is with me."
"Your majesty," he started slightly facetiously after a brief pause. "I greatly enjoy
our weekly meetings. I perhaps have not mentioned that I do not--I have not--had such
interesting discussions with anyone. It is a true honour for me, and frankly, I no longer
can imagine a life without it."
Her heart sank in time with his words--reflecting feelings that were at once
familiar. She too lived for her outings to the countryside. In this place, her entire
existence awakened from its usual slumber.
"Walk with me," he invited, holding a hand out to her as connecting warmth
flooding between the two. She smiled, closing her eyes briefly, capturing this moment in
which all felt as it should.
Connected by arm, the two journeyed through the grounds, conversing on various
matters, even touching on slightly more personal topics than they were accustomed to.
Questions of the various works and objects in his house interspersed these words. When
it came time to return to the city, moreso than usual, she found great difficulty in parting.
"I will see you again soon, will I not?" she asked, almost with tears in her eyes.
"Of course, as always!" he replied, himself shedding a quiet tear.
 "Farewell," she stated, inaudibly adding, "my beloved."

It was but a few days later that she received the news; she was to be married. As a
royal, she had known the day would come when such an action would be required of her,
in order to further develop yet another seemingly unimportant alliance with a nation. In
this case, a prince from northern Europe was to be her husband. The details held no
importance to her, as she knew that this was not the choice she would to make.
Over the following weeks, many a day was spent arguing with her mother and
father, many a night spent alone and tearful. Yet, none of her protests were ever really
heard. To make matters far worse, all tuition had been suspended in order for her to focus
on her immenent engagement. She knew that if she remained, her continued happinesss
could never be maintained. And so, she took the only action left--escape her royal life
and run from the palace.
Under the cover of night, and dressed so as no one would recognise her, she
travelled to the only place she knew, the only place she could ever feel alive. After an
anxious train journey, she found herself on his doorstep.
"How wonderful it is to see you!" he excitedly shouted, upon opening the door.
Noticing the tears in her eyes, he contined, "What's the matter? What's happened?"
Through desperate sobs, she struggled to let the words emerge from her.
"I...am...to be...married."
"I know!" he responded excitedly. "To me!"
"What?" she looked up. "But I am committed to a foreign prince."
"Perhaps I did not mention this, as it is of little importance to me, but I am indeed
a prince. I too was initially crushed when my parents informed me of the arrangement,
until I heard who it was to. While they have typically accepted my freedom to choose, I
suppose they grew sick of waiting and made the choice for me. Although I am clearly
against such an order, when the arranged individual coincides with my choice, I have
little to counter it!"
An smile of immense joy had spread across her youthful face, the tears
evaporating from her cheeks as he spoke of what had happened. "Why did you not write
to inform me of the wonderful news?"
"I did. Did you not receive my letters?" he questioned, receiving a shake of her
head. "I wondered if that may have been the case when I did not receive responses from
you. I imagine they filtered all communication to you due to your busy schedule of
preparation, and in order not to distract you further in your clearly devastated condition.
Oh, come here!" he smiled, putting his comforting arms around her, the two physically
experiencing each other for the first time.
"I am...so alive," she managed to mutter through her overwhelmed sobs of
euphoria.
"I am too," he responded, "I am too, my dear. And with you, I will remain so
forever more."