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.
Imagine the Action: Find Your Way Up
Part of what drives my ideas is that I see the need for change. I see the need for a new dynamic in the way we treat mental illness. When I say this, I am not speaking as someone with a degree or as a healthcare professional.
No, I am speaking as a person with boots on the ground. I am saying this as someone who is working my way up from the bottom and as a means to improve my life, I am writing this to you as someone with my own scars and challenges.
I am writing this as a person with my own stressors and disorders. As well, I am writing this on a person to person level. As such, I say there’s a need to switch our focus from symptom-based programs to solution-based plans and strategies.
Imagine the Action: The Ideas of Change
Here it is again. Monday morning has come and the alarm goes off again. My body is in a routine or a usual mode, so-to-speak. I can be mostly asleep and my body knows what to do, where to go, where the coffee is and how to push the magic blue button on the coffee machine. I can do nearly all of these things without much input from my surface mind.
I know where everything is. I know where I put my phone. I know where my sneakers are and where I placed my car keys so that come morning, I can start my car, to warm it up, and make my drive to work a little more comfortable.
Imagine the Action: A Statement of Purpose
My idea to write to you is something that comes from the heart. My aim is somewhat selfish too because I admit that this is my only voice. I admit that this is the only place where I can go and be welcomed without any struggles or doubt.
This is the place where I can be heard and not judged or worry about what comes next. Essentially, I come here to find peace; but more, I come here to make sense of the ideas that interrupt my thinking.
Then again, I suppose you already know this about me.
(Or at least I hope you do.)
Therefore, I suppose you already know that these journals of mine are necessary to me. This is more than my voice and more than a moment of sanity. This is my fix or my special dose that defends from the unpleasantness that goes on around us.
The Written Addiction 