Look, I wrote this some time ago:

Well, did I say “Man’s Rights” ? What rights ? The rights for not being wronged ? Wronged by what ? by who ??
In fact, the declaration of rights equals a bill of slavery, because it legalizes wrongs by penalizing them. One cannot harm anyone but, if he does, he will pay for that … if caught for the ‘official’ wrongs, but more often uncaught because the right wrongs have become wrong rights !!

Slavery for blacks had been declared illegal because whites were to become, as if they had never been, slaves too. Slavery has become, since the era of liberty, equality and fraternity, an industry, a global sophisticated business that needed wars, revolutions and genocides. All has been done in one century, the deadliest ever, from 1870 to 1970. Wars had to reshape the industrial lung of the new world masters that were to replace all the old local and nation bounded ones, kings and popes, though these olds crowns were to remain in the game, at a lesser level, the game of raising cattle… say people.

So, as long as one wants rights, he is wrong. Liberty is not a right, but a duty, toward oneself and the other. Freedom is the natural liberty that is not a right but a given, as long as parents do not become coaches and play the same game the elite plays: raise kids for serving, serving their egos, their aborted dreams, the rules, all these rules man has established in all the orders of life, cultural, economic, technical, political, religious, social, recreational …

Because life is not about what we know but about what we don’t, because it’s not about what we can but what we cannot, life is not a rehearsal but a guess, life is not about what is but of what is not, yet. Life is not about rights but duties, the first being the duty to be a man. Liberty is a duty, not a right.

Liberty is first and foremost my own, my duty, toward myself and the other, the first “other” being the creator, creator of all things, the one who gives me an appearance, a soul, a faith, then to myself I had to build, then for you, all of you whom I live with but, without being “free” myself, I’ll be a burden, to me, to you.

Being a personal duty, liberty does not need to be written outside, it is an art from inside, a life of learning. Liberty, this one which I’d rather call ‘Liberty-too’, liberty that gives life its meaning, the fondamental hope that I am connected to a larger reality, the hope I walk on the right path, the sense that life has a meaning, a direction, by itself and by what I do according to it and to who I am, well, who I try to become.

Life is about having a father, no choice, “the destiny of man is the love of the father”, not only but … We are not alone but conected. We are part of a 13,7 Milliards years of history that is in progress, no matter what man wants, and this progress is more powerful than any other thing.

mformankind.blogspot.co.il/2012/04/long-is-life-but-short-is-time.html

BTW, should I stop playing, “I am not Divine?” And, should any intelligent creation not be asking the same question? When will you, Jon, think about stopping playing, “I am not Divine?” Or have you already thought it and are in the midst making it happen?

AdamXYZ

I reached in my backpack and pulled out “Atlas Shrugged” and asked her the same question back. “Yes, they are both brilliant and naive in opposite ways, so what of a synthesis that marries them both?”

“Ah… a soaring island paradise of Buddha, Krishna, Rumi, Jesus, and Rand, … that’s an impossible courtship I’d be willing to try. When do we go?”

“‘The Moon is a Harsh Mistress’ as Heinlein’s rocket story of freedom told, and the place I know is no easier to find, to get to, or to survive. It is not harsh by weapons and war, but through confronting what lies hidden within you. Peace-nicks and hippies aside, nothing of worth is free or easy or without risk.”

“I noticed you reading here yesterday, so I brought a test, … and an invitation.” She reached in her bag and pulled out three worn paperbacks. The exaltant naked couple on the front of John Varley’s “Persistence of Vision” was definitely suggestive, and electric sparks surged from my belly to groin and heart to crown. She and her manner were utterly unusual, strange, and beautiful.

“In this collection of Varley’s short stories “Persistence” invites you to move beyond literal interpretation of ‘vision’ to see it as metaphor for a kind of consciousness that transcends seeing to sense and feel a greater intelligence of communication and relationship. What of your senses and mind would you be willing to give up to go beyond this institutional reality you live? Would you surrender your left brained linear thrust for truth… to explore beauty’s nebulous expanse of balance and relationship?”

She then laid Frank Herbert’s “Santaroga Barrier” on top of Varley, and on top of that M. A. Foster’s “Game Players of Zan.” “These tell my life, almost literally. This is no fantasy. This is where I live when I’m not here. I have an intuition it could someday be your’s as well, or it might be your insanity and death. It may also be just a good read you once had among the rare science fictionings of spirit as con-spiracy of soul and relationship rather than missiles and machines.”

“If you can’t give up this life you know, you will never have the one you long for, but the cost is beyond anything you can imagine. I will find you here some day to hear and test your answer.”

I looked into her eyes and began to fall into an unhuman depth as her fire burst into my heart. “If you speak of this to anyone, or try to track me or trespass my privacy, my kind will hurt you and kill you without mercy. You have much to read and consider… and a life path to choose.” She rose up with the grace of a jaguar and disappeared behind me. I had no wish to move.

Four decades later I can tell you that I endured her tests and those of her kind to follow her into another world, much as in Herbert’s story. That led to the greater “science of imagining” that steered the “mind-ships” of “Zan” beyond Earth. I don’t need you to believe me, I now live there and merely visit here. You have before you a life, and an epic invitation to your own future unbound.