“’Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is or and, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part… Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What’s in a name? That which we call a rose… By any other word would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, Retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee Take all myself.” –Romeo & Juliet

The message is the prototype not the platform. The word itself appears to carry great weight, but upon its conveyance it is discovered to carry little substance. Anarchist, a word meant to communicate great meaning finds itself, in practice, lost on definition.

Monks have a saying. If you see Buddha in the street, kill him. Do not allow someone to define your practice for you. Your practice is yours alone.

To “Kill King Abacus” and live a personal anarchism that acknowledges many anarchisms, not just one, is to adopt a life without certainty. Without a prescribed anarchism, one which exists through the piety of its priests, what is left?

What is this word, anarchism? What purpose does it serve?

If we are not attempting to build movements, ideologies, dichotomies, then what use are the letters together?

Unless we hope to secure and enforce a particular definition, and we in fact value the liberty of the individual, then what value remains in a flag—black or otherwise?

If there is nothing uniform about anarchism then what makes us anarchists?