For parts of tonight's content, I am indebted to various posts at the Sullyblog. But not these first parts. I was reading some excerpts about Emma Goldman on some libertarian sites. Two quotes:
"The individual is the true reality in life. A cosmos in himself, he does not exist for the State, nor for that abstraction called “society,” or the “nation,” which is only a collection of individuals. Man, the individual, has always been and necessarily is the sole source and motive power of evolution and progress. Civilization has been a continuous struggle of the individual or of groups of individuals against the State and even against “society,” that is, against the majority subdued and hypnotized by the State and State worship." – Emma Goldman
"'What I believe' is a process rather than a finality. Finalities are for gods and governments, not for the human intellect." – Emma Goldman
Not sure how this connects, but I had an insight about cosmopolitanism. It's really the main thing. Cosmopolitanism is the sense that we are all citizens of the world as a whole. When we have this sense, we are able to participate intelligently in the modern world. If we don't, there are going to be problems.
What I'm listening to right now.
King Crimson, "The Court of the Crimson King." I remember listening to King Crimson a lot a very long time ago.
Lyrics:
The dance of the puppets
The rusted chains of prison moons
Are shattered by the sun.
I walk a road, horizons change
The tournament's begun.
The purple piper plays his tune,
The choir softly sing;
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue,
For the court of the crimson king.The keeper of the city keys
Put shutters on the dreams.
I wait outside the pilgrim's door
With insufficient schemes.
The black queen chants
The funeral march,
The cracked brass bells will ring;
To summon back the fire witch
To the court of the crimson king.The gardener plants an evergreen
Whilst trampling on a flower.
I chase the wind of a prism ship
To taste the sweet and sour.
The pattern juggler lifts his hand;
The orchestra begin.
As slowly turns the grinding wheel
In the court of the crimson king.On soft gray mornings widows cry
The wise men share a joke;
I run to grasp divining signs
To satisfy the hoax.
The yellow jester does not play
But gentle pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance
In the court of the crimson king.
16 "And when you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by men. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. 17 But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, 18 that your fasting may not be seen by men but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you." – Matthew 6:16-18 (RSV translation)