There once was a man. He was like other men but at the same time he was not. He drank and ate and laughed with them but when he was alone he would ponder. He would unravel the universe and attempt to neatly organize the chaos around him and he was surprisingly successful most of the time. He sorted everything and everyone. Not by race or looks but by their actions. He had boxes for everything. A box for liars, a box for honesty, a box for kindness, a box for cruelty. He felt as though he had built all the boxes he would ever need to build.
One day as he walked through the woods, holding his spear for protection but not expecting to use it, he heard a strange voice behind him.
“Hello there,” said the voice from nowhere. “What has brought you to my woods?”
The man spun on the spot to find the source, his spear raised in instinct. “I have come to seek the wisdom of solitude,” the man said to the nothing. “Present yourself so that I may go away from you and seek my peace alone.”
“If peace you seek,” said the nothing “then why, might I ask, do you carry a weapon of war?”
“I am but a man,” he responded. “I have no fangs as the great wolf does. I have not the size of the bear, nor the speed of the cat. I carry this weapon to ensure my safety from beasts such as these.”
“Do you feel safe behind your spear?” the nothing said. “Does it bring you peace?”
The man spun around looking for the source as it seemed to come from everywhere. “Show yourself, man, and let me be away from you.”
“But I am not a man,” responded the nothing. “I am the guardian of these sacred woods. I have seen you here many times. I have watched you on your walks. I have watched you with your spear. I have watched as you sought your wisdom. I have watched as you took from my forest and consumed its flesh. I have watched as you drank its blood from the river. A man is what you are, as destructive as all the others. A burden on this forest. A burden of this world.”
“Are you here to pass judgment then, spirt?” The man asked lowering his spear. “Have you watched me and found my actions wanting? Am I to pay for the sins against your forest?”
“No,” the spirt responded. “How can these things be sins? Should a wolf not be a wolf? Should a bear not be a bear?”
“Of course, a bear should be a bear and a wolf should be a wolf. What else would they be if not themselves,”
“Then why should a man be anything but a man. Men are beasts like any other beast. So why should they be judged differently from any other beast?”
“Men have brains for logic and reasoning. My brain made this spear. It has slain many creatures, large and small. It has taken many lives. Men should know better than to build such weapons. We know the pain they cause and the harm they do but still we proceed. We should be judged for the harm we knowingly do to others because we know what we do.”
“Your brain is but a tool. As you said, you have not the fangs of a wolf, nor the size of a bear, nor the speed of the cat. These are their tools. Do they not use their tools to eat? Do they not use their tools to fight? Your brain sets you apart from other beasts, this is true. It tells you to step over the anthill instead of on it. It tells you to let the doe pass as your coffers are full. It tells you to be mindful not to take all the berries as you’ll need them to grow again. It tells you to feed the rabbit so that it may feed you. A man’s brain is his tool. It can cause much destruction but it also causes him to aim for the heart of his prey, to not cause unneeded pain, and to feel pain when his misses. So I ask again, why should a man be judged differently than any other beast?”
“Then tell me, sprit, why have you come if not to judge me? What business have we thar you have disturbed my walk.”
“I wish to offer you the wisdom you seek.”
“You know why men are evil and cruel?”
“I do. The answer lies I’m this very conversation in fact. Although it may not be the way you thought to look for it.”
“Give me your wisdom, spirt. I shall ponder it as I do all things.”
“Every beast works with the tools it is given. Few have the ability to make their own tools as you have and fewer yet may ponder how best to use them. Do not hate the man for being cruel any more than you would hate the wolf for biting. Instead, pity him for lacking the tools to be kind.”
The man thought about this for a moment before responding. “So the question is not ‘Why are men cruel?’ The real question is ‘Why don’t all men possess the tools to be kind?’, am I correct?”
“You are very wise yourself,” the spirt replied. “I am going back to tending my woods, but always remember when you come here that I am watching. Use your tools, man, as the other beasts do. But just as I do not judge you for being a man, judge not other men for not possessing your tools.”