It was later than autumn here on Project Earth. The cool winds intercepted the previous warmth of the September month. We had past the times when the leaves were changing and the woven tree-covered mountains took on the various colors of yellow, orange, purple and even red. The trees took on a sea of color to make the canopy of autumn more vibrant and alive.
I swear, one could walk outside and smell the aroma of the season. One could smell the hint of wood burning from fireplaces and escaping through chimneys to permeate the air. At this moment, I could feel the nostalgia. I could feel the memories and taste the emotions which I admit were bitter sweet and beautiful.
A Little from the Abstract: Reversing Our Polarity
I am here, between two poles, mid-gravity, and I am neither up or down or even mid-range but instead, I am somewhere in an atmosphere, which is either unexplained or misunderstood.
I am between two poles.
It is morning somewhere in a city where the pavement takes the sun between the buildings. There is shade and moments where the sun peeks through. My hands are tied in some regard. Tall buildings block the views but on occasion, we can find ourselves somewhere by water or someplace unobstructed and feel the breeze move through our hair.
Just to Write: The Day’s of Way Back When
Early morning when the sun was about to show, the night was behind us and the dawn was proof that as young as we were, we were living. We were alive enough to recognize that we beat the dawn and that we broke the night into different pieces of memory. We lived as fast and as wild as we could and throughout the night, we danced and we played and we sweated in the hot celebrations in the downtown scene. We moved with trance-like music beneath the bright lights flashing and strobe lights, beaming and flickering, or pulsating to the techno-sounds and hypnotic beats of club music.
Continue readingJust to Share
One of the more interesting stories to me in the business world is the story about a man named Paul O’Neill. This was a man who came into the role of CEO at a company called Alcoa (Aluminum Company of America.)
What interests me most about this is not the position O’Neill held or the fact that I remember the Alcoa commercials from when I was a kid. No, what I appreciate most about this story is O’Neill’s approach when he first started his role.
A Working Man’s Prose: A Sunday Night’s Thought
It rained. And the streets were wet but the afternoon sun came through the clouds to make the roads glisten. I can think of literally a thousand times when I have seen this before. I can think of the emotional background from when the afternoon looked this way.
And Sunday? Well, Sunday is more like a half-day to me. It is a day that’s partly a day off and partly a day of rest. It’s a day that’s partly holy or God-like with the streets filled with people in their Sunday bests and church goers. And, it’s a day that’s partly cut short in preparation for the work week ahead.
Stream of Consciousness: The Beach
I was there at sunrise, the beach, the warmth of the sand and there she was, the hot sun, rising above the ocean. It was not long before that darkness took the sky and somewhere deeper in the sands by the shoreline, I could hear the howls and calls from a small homeless camp with men drinking and shouting up to the stars. They were drunk beneath the nighttime sky and in the warmth of a South Florida beach.
I was here not too long ago; yet, this seems like it was another lifetime. I took walks along this beach during the sunrise. I let the colors from the horizon take me away. As the sound from the surf crumbled in waves, I walked along the beach with a mindful of thoughts and a heart filled with wonder.
Imagine the Action: Time to Make it So
I think I will end this here yet I am not ending anything. At least, not really. I’m not ending anything except for another journal. I am certainly not ending my dreams or my hopes or my plans to reach the next level of my journey. Not at all.
If anything, I am ending another chapter or phase so that I can prepare for my next project.
My idea to imagine the action was part of a stage or as it states in the stages of change, this marks the end of my contemplation and preparation. Next comes action. Then comes maintenance.
For the record, I have a plan. I have a goal. I have methods and tactics and the ability to achieve. I also have the hunger and the desire to see my hopes come to life. However, it is clear that nothing worthwhile will simply appear. Our dreams take work to build them and effort to keep them going.
Imagine the Action: Understanding Value
Imagine having something so valuable and then all of a sudden, it’s gone. Imagine this is something that money cannot buy.
Say, this is more of an accomplishment. Or, say this is something internal like an achievement that no one in the world thought you could manage yet you did.
Imagine the thoughts and the feelings that come when this is gone. Or more accurately, imagine this is something you gave away in a moment of haste.
Imagine the Action: Finding My Method to Beat My Madness
I have chosen this as my method. And by this, I mean my journals and my time with you. This is my way to settle the tiny disputes that whisper in my head, in which I need something more than a quick fix or a temporary system of relief. After a while, you grow tired of the brief or interim remedies. You grow tired of the plans which only placate the troubles we see. Nothing is ever solved this way, only paused or momentarily tolerable. At best, we grow tired of the short-term ideas that lose their ability to desensitize us from the sharp edges of uncomfortable surroundings.
I chose this because this has become a voice for me. These words on my screen and the thoughts in my head have agreed to come together and allow me a moment of peace. This way, the worn soldiers in my mind can rest for a while and retreat from the enemies that never existed.
Imagine the Action: Acknowledging an Accomplishment
I see us all as a gathering of people or possibly spirits and souls. We are a massed gathering of both coherent and incoherent minds who are caught in the inevitable path of things that will eventually come true.
We will age, live and we will see a child who grows into adulthood. We will note people who we saw for the first time. We will note people who find a partner or a lover or a friend to discover the universe together.
There will be friends and acquaintances, lovers, family and, of course, there will be the inevitable enemies, adversaries and moments of adversity.
The Written Addiction 