Back in the days when Immanuel Kant was setting up shop as a philosopher, the word on everyone's lips was, "Enlightenment." In hindsight, it's kind of ironic, with the clothes and the powdered wigs and harpsichords and all that stuff. But that's what they called it, Enlightenment. So one day the editors of some paper or other put their heads together, and speculated along lines we might call Petersonian: "How can we say we believe in Enlightenment, gentlemen, when we don't even know what the bloody word means? It's not as if we can just tell people to clean their rooms, and call that Enlightenment. We had better get someone to figure this out for us, or we're going to end up looking like bloody idiots." So they had a contest, to figure out who knew what the word actually means, and up stepped young Immanuel, and he knocked it out of the park. Here's what he came up with, or the gist of it:
It's late, and I'm going to temporarily publish this and then get back to work on it, I've been putting this one off for a while. I need to read Ian McGilchrist's books, I hate to admit it but I'm a reluctant reader these days, I kind of got burned out and feel like there's only so much you can ask.
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