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Models of the World
By Richard
Eyre Editor's note: This weekly column focuses on physical and spiritual journeys, the autumn of life, notes on life's passage, and the life of a seeker. Read the first column here.
The Telestial Models of the World
Have you noticed how everything in our world seems to be measured, evaluated, and valued in economic terms? From the personal ways in which we judge people (wealth, appearance, "success") to the way we try to understand the broader world (GNP, productivity, recession) we base our opinions on parts of a giant and pervasive economic model.
Another worldly model is the competitive model, where there is always a winner and a loser — one who controls and one who is controlled. It is a power paradigm where our judgments and evaluations are based on who has more or less power.
And a final cultural icon of modern measurement is something that could be called the individual rights model. We judge countries, programs, curricula, and all kinds of other systems by whether they violate human individual rights and whether individuals can become all that they can be.
What is wrong with these models?
They ignore the spirit; they ignore the soul; they ignore the family. They are materialistic, telestial models that fail to take into account eternal priorities.
They fit, one to one, with the Three Deceivers (click here for a quick overview of the three deceivers). The economic model matches up with the "ownership" deceiver. The competitive model matches up with the deceiver of "control." And the individual rights model matches up with the "independence" deceiver.
Lost in Autumn
I've been a little lost in thoughts of the autumn of life, as illustrated by three poems that came into my mind this week:
Sunfade
Fading?
Are our family memories fading
Like the family pictures in the sun room?
Still beautiiful, but dimmer, slipping away
From the subconscious?
Does too much brilliant present sun
Eclipse past's hues and textures?
I want the archival ink of memory —
A formula of reflection —
To retain and revive and restore those vintage moments
Like crystal bells that ring whenever touched.
They are alive, not dead, real, not conjured,
Part of us, not external but imbedded clear in our hard drive,
Recharged by the occasional thought.
Diapers on the Beach
It's the equinox, the longest day,
The moon was full last night.
Past eight, sun still two fingers up,
Alone on our beach,
Still, deep, vivid colors.
Sun slants in from behind as
I stand on the sailboat tramp,
Looking in from slow sail onto shadowed hills,
And down into clarity of sand ripples through three vertical feet of passing water.
First sail of the summer, then first tractor launch,
The Eyurealm mastercraft cuts, perfect
figure eight on backlit glass.
Laughter memories skip across
And as I pull it back out,
Two of last reunion's diapers
On the floorboards.
Views
Views matter.
Lighthouse picture frames — 21 of them
Positioned perfectly for
Sky-mountains-lake triad.
Kolob view of fingers
And hues spreading the other way.
Bali-wood aimed at Toll Canyon
And arched to show sky from upstairs,
Each window with slope and pine.
Perfection the goal for views.
Inside the head too,
View points,
Perspectives
Paradigms.
How we view the world,
Our fellows, ourselves,
Our view maker
And view master.
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