April 4, 2026
Hello,
With the ski season officially over and the lifts shut down, my friends and I have been ramping up our hiking in preparation for our trip to Machu Picchu. Walking in the woods provides plenty of time for reflection and I have been pondering the dichotomy Aidan and I set up in the Legend of Order and Chaos.
As I mentioned in my previous two newsletters when I examined Power and Knowledge, I am dissecting the themes that Aidan pointed out to me. You would think that I might have noticed them on my own, but—
Anyway.
Vallus, a god created as an ultimate leader, first plots to maintain peace throughout his world. He creates a place where all the kings can live together—with the intention of fostering close relationships and peace.
It doesn’t work.
He finds that after a while, that element of selfishness that infects almost every one of us, limits the leaders’ willingness to think of the greater good. Once their power is established, they begin to manipulate for greater wealth and more power.
In response, Vallus destroys the City of Kings and turns his attention to creating Chaos. He and his son, Kelhos, do everything in their power to make life difficult.
When I lift my head from our fantasy world and look out at the real world, I cannot help but notice the parallels. Some people find the cost of order too high. Once they reach a certain level of power and wealth, they want more. They begin to imagine themselves above the laws that allow us to live together in peace and stability.
If you’ve ever watched a power-hungry person operate—whether in a family, a workplace, a community, or a nation—you might recognize the strategy. Chaos is not an accident. It’s a tool. If you can make people afraid, you can make them trade freedom for protection. If you can make them doubt what’s true, you can make them cling to whoever sounds certain. If you can keep everyone fighting each other, no one has the energy left to notice they’ve been hoodwinked.
The antidote is steadiness.
That’s what Kristof provides.
He refuses to be herded by fear. He chooses to build trust slowly and examine every heart for its wisdom.
In our world we must verify before we amplify and hold to our boundaries without dehumanizing the people on the other side of them.
Order isn’t rigidity—it’s the daily decision to be accountable to something bigger than our appetites.
Order, in both our world and Vallus’s, isn’t something that appears fully formed. It’s built through restraint, attention, and the willingness to slow down when the easier option is to react. Chaos thrives on speed—on outrage, shortcuts, and certainty without understanding. Order asks for patience.
That’s what I keep coming back to as I revisit this story. Not the clash of gods or the fall of cities, but the quieter question underneath it all: when things feel unstable, do we reach for control at any cost, or do we choose the harder work of steadiness?
So this week, I’ll leave you with that: where might slowing down, paying closer attention, or choosing patience change the outcome?
Happy reading.
Warm regards,
Paula Baker (and Aidan Davies)
Here’s a video from this week. Follow, like, and comment.
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