Quara diye bir siteden, bana ilham vermişti
That you're alone on this Earth.

When I was 23 years old, I graduated college, worked for my father for about a year and then packed up my car and moved roughly 1,000 miles away from Chicago to Boston.

I had never visited Boston before. I was going to move in with a friend of mine, try to find a job and ultimately build a life for myself.

My father opted to help me with the drive. We spent 2 days on the road together. We talked about a bunch of stuff:

Stories I had from college.

Stories he had from his youth.

Stories of his victories.

Stories of his failures.

How proud he was of me.

One piece of advice he bestowed upon me has clear-as-day stayed with me now eight years later:

“You're alone on this Earth. You have me and your mother. We will be here for you more so than anyone. You then have your brother and sister. You will probably find a life partner. You will have the illusion that they are with you and that your close friends are with you. The truth of the matter is you are the only one in that head of yours. You have to determine what you want and who you want to be. Only you.” -My Father.

At first, it seemed like the most depressing thing I had ever heard.

I couldn't imagine this guy, the guy I hold above all other people in my life, saying that.

The guy who I aspire to build my character to mirror.

The guy that gave me everything I wanted as a child.

The guy that loved his family unconditionally could say something like this.

I thought to myself, he's lying. I have friends that will be there for me thick and thin. I have a network of people that support me and care for me.

He's wrong.

I meditated on his advice for a few days.

What he was talking about began to marinate. I knew exactly what he was talking about.

It was the most liberating thing I had ever heard:

"I am alone.”

I felt free in that moment. No one but me was going to be living in this head for the rest of my life.

No one was going to follow what truly makes me happy, but me.

No one was going to challenge myself hard enough to learn what I wanted to learn, but me.

No one was going to put myself out there to share love with a woman, but me.

No one was going to be hurt by women in my life and have the opportunity to learn from those scars quite like me.

No one was going to go into an interview in my place in order to secure employment, like me.

No one was going to get fired (like I ultimately did) and learn from that experience, like me.

I was alone. This is my life. No one else's.

I was free to be me.

I have never forgotten what my father said that day and I never will. When I feel down, I know that I am the sole catalyst in getting myself “back.” When I want to learn something I know that it’s within my power to get out and learn it. When I want to write and create, I know that I have no one else that will do the work for me.

I work on myself and live my life so I can help build the community around me.

You're the only person that is going to be in that head.

Every night before you go to sleep—just before you settle off into the dream-state.

Every morning when you wake up. Just before you enter the world to meet its demands.

It's you.

You're alone.

What are you going to do with that freedom?

What Is Patriotism?
by Emma Goldman
San Francisco, California
Men and Women:

What is patriotism? Is it love of one's birthplace, the place of childhood's recollections and hopes, dreams and aspirations? Is it the place where, in childlike naivete, we would watch the passing clouds, and wonder why we, too, could not float so swiftly? The place where we would count the milliard glittering stars, terror-stricken lest each one "an eye should be," piercing the very depths of our little souls? Is it the place where we would listen to the music of the birds and long to have wings to fly, even as they, to distant lands? Or is it the place where we would sit on Mother's knee, enraptured by tales of great deeds and conquests? In short, is it love for the spot, every inch representing dear and precious recollections of a happy, joyous and playful childhood?

If that were patriotism, few American men of today would be called upon to be patriotic, since the place of play has been turned into factory, mill, and mine, while deepening sounds of machinery have replaced the music of the birds. No longer can we hear the tales of great deeds, for the stories our mothers tell today are but those of sorrow, tears and grief.

What, then, is patriotism? "Patriotism, sir, is the last resort of scoundrels," said Dr. [Samuel] Johnson. Leo Tolstoy, the greatest anti-patriot of our time, defines patriotism as the principle that will justify the training of wholesale murderers; a trade that requires better equipment in the exercise of man-killing than the making of such necessities as shoes, clothing, and houses; a trade that guarantees better returns and greater glory than that of the honest workingman...

Indeed, conceit, arrogance and egotism are the essentials of patriotism. Let me illustrate. Patriotism assumes that our globe is divided into little spots, each one surrounded by an iron gate. Those who have had the fortune of being born on some particular spot consider themselves nobler, better, grander, more intelligent than those living beings inhabiting any other spot. It is, therefore, the duty of everyone living on that chosen spot to fight, kill and die in the attempt to impose his superiority upon all the others. The inhabitants of the other spots reason in like manner, of course, with the result that from early infancy the mind of the child is provided with blood-curdling stories about the Germans, the French, the Italians, Russians, etc. When the child has reached manhood he is thoroughly saturated with the belief that he is chosen by the Lord himself to defend his country against the attack or invasion of any foreigner. It is for that purpose that we are clamoring for a greater army and navy, more battleships and ammunition...

An army and navy represent the people's toys. To make them more attractive and acceptable, hundreds and thousands of dollars are being spent for the display of toys. That was the purpose of the American government in equipping a fleet and sending it along the Pacific coast, that every American citizen should be made to feel the pride and glory of the United States.

The city of San Francisco spent one hundred thousand dollars for the entertainment of the fleet; Los Angeles, sixty thousand; Seattle and Tacoma, about one hundred thousand... Yes, two hundred and sixty thousand dollars were spent on fireworks, theater parties, and revelries, at a time when men, women, and children through the breadth and length of the country were starving in the streets; when thousands of unemployed were ready to sell their labor at any price.

What could not have been accomplished with such an enormous sum? But instead of bread and shelter, the children of those cities were taken to see the fleet, that it may remain, as one newspaper said, "a lasting memory for the child."

A wonderful thing to remember, is it not? The implements of civilized slaughter. If the mind of the child is poisoned with such memories, what hope is there for a true realization of human brotherhood?

We Americans claim to be a peace-loving people. We hate bloodshed; we are opposed to violence. Yet we go into spasms of joy over the possibility of projecting dynamite bombs from flying machines upon helpless citizens. We are ready to hang, electrocute, or lynch anyone, who, from economic necessity, will risk his own life in the attempt upon that of some industrial magnate. Yet our hearts swell with pride at the thought that America is becoming the most powerful nation on earth, and that she will eventually plant her iron foot on the necks of all other nations.

Such is the logic of patriotism.

...Thinking men and women the world over are beginning to realize that patriotism is too narrow and limited a conception to meet the necessities of our time. The centralization of power has brought into being an international feeling of solidarity among the oppressed nations of the world; a solidarity which represents a greater harmony of interests between the workingman of America and his brothers abroad than between the American miner and his exploiting compatriot; a solidarity which fears not foreign invasion, because it is bringing all the workers to the point when they will say to their masters, "Go and do your own killing. We have done it long enough for you."

...The proletariat of Europe has realized the great force of that solidarity and has, as a result, inaugurated a war against patriotism and its bloody specter, militarism. Thousands of men fill the prisons of France, Germany, Russia and the Scandinavian countries because they dared to defy the ancient superstition...

America will have to follow suit. The spirit of militarism has already permeated all walks of life. Indeed, I am convinced that militarism is a greater danger here than anywhere else, because of the many bribes capitalism holds out to those whom it wishes to destroy...

The beginning has already been made in the schools... Children are trained in military tactics, the glory of military achievements extolled in the curriculum, and the youthful mind perverted to suit the government. Further, the youth of the country is appealed to in glaring posters to join the Army and the Navy. "A fine chance to see the world!" cries the governmental huckster. Thus innocent boys are morally shanghaied into patriotism, and the military Moloch strides conquering through the nation...

When we have undermined the patriotic lie, we shall have cleared the path for the great structure where all shall be united into a universal brotherhood -- a truly free society.

Süheyl Karakaya, bir alıntı ekledi.
02 Haz 2017

Happy few
Sonra, neden muhatabı "happy few" olan bir edebiyat nevini tek ölçü alıyoruz? O zaman matbaa yoktu, müstensihler Divanları muayyen sayıda ve zengin birkaç "mecelle" için kopya ediyordu.

Jurnal Cilt 1, Cemil Meriç (Sayfa 51)Jurnal Cilt 1, Cemil Meriç (Sayfa 51)