When I got back home, everything was still the same. Except that it wasn’t. There were tiny differences that might easily have gone unnoticed, but after spending 13 months asleep in the woods, upon awakening I became very aware, even more than usual. I found that if I looked at anything in a staring, slightly unfocused way without moving or blinking, it would either remain stable or it would jump around a bit, sort of quiver. That’s how I began to sniff out the two different worlds.
I recall what I was told upon awakening in the woods: “A dark force came and split the world in two, but not two halves. It split the world into two wholes. Where there was one world, there are now two, but they appear as one and are superimposed upon one another.” And when I questioned what I must do about it, the reader may recall this response:
“You know what is right and you know what is wrong. You know what is up and what is down, what is warm and what is cold, what is day and what is night. You know how the natural world works. You know the seasons of the world and their correspondences in the body. You know what is health and what is illness. You know what is kindness and what is cruelty. So you will hold each path you encounter up to these truths, and whichever path rings true to the natural world, that is the path you will take. Beware of the merchant who will try to take your possessions. He is not from the natural world.”
Yes, I know right from wrong. I know the difference between opposites—the middle ground, and the pendulum that swings between the two. I know how the natural world works and the seasons of the year and the human body. I know what is truly health and what is contrived illness, and how belief of either affects the believer. I know when someone is kind and when they are pretending to be kind—it is all in the eyes. And now I hold everything up to these standards and make a judgment.
That’s right. I openly judge now. Before it was a hidden judgment in my mind that I didn’t dare speak outright or even admit to because someone told me long ago that judgment was wrong. And somehow I believed them. More simply put: It is discrimination. Somewhere, somehow, someone said that “discrimination” was a bad thing. They lumped it in together with judgmentalism (quite different from judgement), bias, unfairness, and provincial injustice. So I used to attempt to discuss my ideas in a tiptoeing kind of way, in the hopes of not offending.
But discrimination is not those things at all. It is simply the ability to discern. “A discriminating palate,” for example. It is having a good amount of life experience and then being able to learn from that and make good choices in life. AND THERE IT WAS! That was the answer. You see, when the one world split into two worlds superimposed upon one another, like a thief in the night, the World Wreckers stole a good portion of language—of words—and gave them new definitions, and usually those definitions were terrible and cruel and specifically designed to serve their evil purposes.
Suddenly, it seemed that experiencing life, learning from it, discerning different paths, and choosing wisely among them (that is—discriminating) became a bad thing because of the new definition. And the people became afraid because they did not want to be looked at through the new eyes of the World Wreckers, who brought swift punishment with them.
How perfectly diabolical. Take the very first skill, the very first gift, if you will, that a child is granted—discrimination—and turn it into something terrible instead. A little child learns to judge and discriminate and make choices. Through experience he knows the stove is hot and he chooses something cooler and safer. He knows the cookie tastes better than the broccoli. He knows the loud sound might mean danger, etc. And he begins to learn how to make intelligent, albeit simple, choices—how to judge, how to discriminate, how to know right from wrong (with guidance, of course, from his parents, who have even more life experience to bring to the table.)
The World Wreckers cleverly stole the word “discriminate” (along with “judgment” and many, many others) and gave it a new and awful meaning. Now the adults in the stolen world, who learned good discrimination a long time ago, were afraid to make the simplest of choices for themselves. They were afraid to even think about differences or that differences existed at all. When a discriminating thought would enter their minds, they would turn sharply away. “No . . . I mustn’t . . .”
I mustn’t what? I mustn’t make intelligent decisions for myself? I mustn’t make choices that will benefit me? I mustn’t prefer one thing over another? I mustn’t remember that I have an innate ability to discern right from wrong? How ridiculous this would once have seemed. I realized yet again that I had so much work to do, so many people to help . . .
And that is how the World Wreckers began their evil quest—even before the one world had split into two. It starts with language. It always starts with language. Because in the beginning was the Word, and we mortals use this to sit upon the throne of faith. He with ears, let him hear.
