The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide to Disillusionment

The Order of Things

"There are two major principles in human society, Barns," Barnabas II said to his grandson, sitting in his modest office in the town he had reconstructed and named New Atlantic. "There is the male principle and the female principle. You need both to make a working and orderly world. They must be in balance. The male part is always forceful, fighting for dominance. It masters the natural world and fights violently for its territory. The female principle is more subtle. On the surface it is nurturing, caring, helping things grow, like children, plants, trees. It creates orderly rows, relative comfort, nourishment. Under the surface, the female principle is fierce and formidable, but it is different from the male's protection in its covert, rather than overt, dominance of others. Do you follow me?"

Barnabas the younger was eleven years old when his grandfather pulled him inside from his game of kickball to give him this speech. "I think I understand most of it," he replied, cautiously. "Men build and fight, women take care of things."

"Yes and no, Barney," the elder said. "All people, men and women, have both principles in them to greater or lesser extents. Some men are nurturers and some women are warriors or builders or even rulers. These principles don't apply only to a person's body parts. What is important is that you have enough of both the male and the female principle in a society regardless of what the makeup is in gender. They have to be in balance."

"But how do you know when a society is not in balance then?" Barnabas IV asked his grandfather.

"You watch the people," his grandfather replied. "See if there are warriors and caretakers and try to sense the balance. This is part of how you lead. This is something you will need to learn."

"You think I should grow up to be the leader? Why me? What about Bethany? She's older," the grandson asked. "Shouldn't she be the leader?"

"I don't think so, Barnabas," his grandfather replied. "Maybe, long ago, she could have, when the rule of law was stronger, before things broke down, but not now. It has to be someone like who I think you will grow up to be."

"Are you a king?" the boy asked.

"No." His grandfather laughed a little at this. "I'm not a king, and I'm not exactly a mayor or a governor either. I'm just someone who helped to bring about order when everything went to shit. Yes, I know your mother doesn't like me talking like that to you, but there's no point in mollycoddling you. We are going to need you to toughen up a bit for the job you were born into."

"Like my dad?"

Barnabas the elder frowned. The displeasure pinched his visage and darkened his eyes. "No, not like your father," he said.

There was silence, and the boy's grandfather got up and walked to a shelf. From it, he took down a box of taffy and the two of them ate one piece each. When the boy had finished his, he sucked on the paper. His grandfather did too.

"So, granddad, if you're not a king or a mayor or a gov... a govador..."

"Governor," the older man said.

"What are you?" Barnabas the younger asked.

"I'm a sort of shepherd. Do you know what that means?"

"Only from church. 'The Lord is my shepherd,'" the younger answered.

His grandfather smiled. Whenever young Barnabas quoted from a sermon or a passage in the Bible, it made him smile. "Yes, that's right, but of course, I'm not God here. I'm only a humble servant of God, looking after a small part of His flock. The word comes from a person who looked out for the sheep in his care. He and maybe a dog would keep the sheep on the field where he could see them and look out for wolves that might kill the sheep. But I don't call myself the shepherd of this town. I never took on a title, because I always hoped things would return to normal. I am here to maintain order and keep the people in the town safe and whole. That's all."