My latest post in my blog “globvilla” worth checking out:
My latest post in my blog “globvilla” worth checking out:
I had a very interesting discussion regarding Aristotlean Drama, Linear Programming and Transactional Analysis today and it lead me to reevaluate my own thoughts on these concepts.
First I reevaluated my thoughts on States:
Aristotlean Drama is simple because it only involves the state of one character following a linear path.
However, when you begin to think about the outcomes for two characters the dynamic becomes tabular which brings us to game theory and the famous prisoner’s dilemma and game theory payoff matrixes:
However, it immediately becomes apparent that the Prisoner’s Dilemma does not account for all of the States.
Here we have the States of Transactional Analysis, however this state model is not complete either.
Even with a pentad the States are incomplete. This is where my epiphany came in. There has to be a begin state and an end state.
Now with a heptad, we have all seven States and a complete tabular model.
However, we are learning tabular models are not adequate. We are learning network models are necessary. And network models require an alternate portrayal.
Here we have a network presentation of the seven States. And each of these States have seven states of their own. There is no magic here. The correlation to the week I do not think is coincidental, but cultural, however I do not think that astronomical phenomena have any causation.
The 20th Century Organization:
i. Implicit 1984: Explicit Brave New World
ii. Implicit Psychopathy: Explicit Humanity
iii. Implicit Fraternity: Explicit Sorority
1. Management – Implicit Slavery: Explicit Liberation
2. Accounts – Implicit Scarcity: Explicit Abundance
3. Schedule – Implicit Death: Explicit Life
4. Facility – Implicit Prison: Explicit Palace
5. Policy – Implicit Moralizing: Explicit Neutrality
6. Procedure – Implicit Stereotyping: Explicit Individuality
7. Transaction – Implicit Purchase: Explicit Sale
I have been having some very interesting conflicts between my business model and conventional business models these days. And the result has been an increase in my resolve to live according to my model.
I have been building my business around my life and the lives of those I choose to help in this world instead of building my life around business. The result is I am seeing the people I help making real progress in becoming independent and self-sustaining individuals with a deep concern for the welfare of those around them.
I have been called undisciplined, unprofessional, unfocused and many other things, however I realize that the real difference is my vision and mission as an individual and as a business person. I am truly putting people first and that scares the 20th century thinkers I come up against. And my life and business are both growing in a way that people want to come on board.
You look at the American economy and it is a failure. Capitalists are in denial. Every political concept does not deliver. Maybe it is time for something new.
Today I read about the United We Serve initiative by President Obama and I feel I am on the right track as a servant leader and a servant business here in Canada.
A Psalm of Life
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
“Life is but an empty dream!”
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act to each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,–act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.
“Earth’s the right place for love”
Is your user in a pathless wood or swinging on birches? — relationary
by Robert Frost
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You’d think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows–
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father’s trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I’d like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.
I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree~
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.