Two Worlds

The reason we have such difficulty understanding our world is that we live in two. One a constructed world, the other created.

This constructed world—metallic sphere supported by massive stilts—has been so painstakingly built and ever expanded upon, that the created world—including our original nature and purpose—is all but forgotten. Only the devastation of great calamity, war, or evil brings a storm strong enough to destabilize this world—at least until the patchwork begins anew.

Perhaps the most dangerous characteristic of the constructed world is that it has evolved in complexity to the point where one can become a genius or virtuoso with its own material and still be blind. An intelligent fool is still a fool.

The dichotomy of these worlds rests in one’s belief that laws can secure well-being and the other’s emphasis on love rooted in freedom that simultaneously acknowledges the present need for law, fulfills and far exceeds it.

The constructed world, in order to produce the environment it wants, persists in endless experiments, attempting to solve each new problem with its various lab instruments—legislation, regulation, innovation, etc. Inside the lab it’s not merely the layers of metallic panelling that constrict you, it’s the infinite and increasing maze of test tubes that seek to mold and regulate your behavior toward your neighbor, land, municipality, country, nature, and everything else known.

Endless prescriptions obscuring the cure. Our diseased human nature perpetually resisting the antibiotics attempting to subdue it.

One of the greatest tells that we serve this constructed world is not only that we find ourselves performing rote, meaningless tasks, but that even the tasks with presumed meaning feel so vapid. The well-being of each other, enforced rather than freely and mutually given, limited rather than limitless, expiration-dated rather than eternal, is stripped of true fulfillment.

The created world possesses none of this suffocation. Ah, how I wish you would step outside that world and join us on these hills at evening, the grass delighted to bend beneath our bare feet, my friend and I breathing in each other’s words!

The created world has always been honest with the constructed. It was never so naive as to tell it to shred all its laws, but it spoke from the heart: “I’ve always wondered if you would come home.”

And with one of those deep breaths that takes notice of itself, it added, “Let me show you the sun again, brother. The ground we stand on catches fire at this hour.”