Groundhog Day
Groundhog Day
Last night to celebrate Groundhog Day, my wife and I watched the Harold Ramis movie, Groundhog Day. (what else?)
If you haven't seen it, I recommend it-- it's one of the most inspirational comedy films of our time. Wikipedia has a good plot summary (Spoiler Warning!) but the theme I'd like to focus on is illustrated in a scene early in the film when Phil (played brilliantly by Bill Murray) begins to realize the implications of being stuck in a time loop.
While this story's plot is about this day that keeps repeating for Phil, this story on a deeper level explores what it means to be stuck in life, using the mechanism of the main character in a time loop.
He says to one of the blue-collar locals he's getting drunk with, "What would you do if you were stuck in one day and nothing you did mattered?"
The man replies, "That about sums it up (my life) for me."
A funny, observant line. Like the humor in most well-done comedies, it's rings true to how many people feel about their lives at least some of the time.
Phil decides to drive his drunk friends home, when the question arises, "What if there was no tomorrow?"
The answer, of course, is that Phil could do anything he wanted. And he does. "I am not going to play by their rules any longer," he declares as he goes for a drunk-driving spree. At first, Phil uses the situation to magnify all the worst parts of his character-- lust, greed, gluttony. Eventually, the indulgences bore him and he sets his sights on Rita, his producer. But none of the tricks he had plyed to bed the local women work on her, and as he falls genuinely in love with her, he comes to realize that the reason is character: "I could never love someone like you."
He recognizes himself for what he is, and fears he will never realize the love he feels for Rita. "...I don't deserve someone like you, but if I ever could, I swear I would love you for the rest of my life."
After going through a self-pitiful suicidal phase, Phil embarks on a journey of personal development: He studies piano, classic literature and poetry, masters ice sculpture. He begins to use his (by now) nearly omniscient knowledge of the town on that day to serve others: Catching a boy falling out of a tree, fixing the flat tire of an elderly woman, saving a man choking on his steak in a restaurant, buying the entire spectrum of product offerings from a former high-school acquaintence turned insurance salesman, giving all his money to a old street beggar and later trying repeatedly (though unsuccessfully) to prevent the old man's death at the end of each iteration of the day. As the film nears resolution, Phil has learned to truly love himself, his (albeit repetative) life, the people of Punxsutawney and becomes a genuinely attractive person through the process. Everyone who comes to know him, loves him. Including Rita. And upon his successful transformation-- he has gone from being what National Review's Jonah Goldberg calls "a thoroughly postmodern man: arrogant, world-weary, and contemptuous without cause" to a caring, selfless, charismatic person-- the spell is broken, the time loop ends, and he is able to move on with his life.
The brilliance of the film is the clever illustration of one of the laws which govern success: Becoming a great person requires placing the interest of others ahead of one's own. It's the great irony of life, and it applies in all areas, including business. John C. Maxwell defines charisma through the illustration that, when you walk into a room, your focus is on other people and adding value to them.
There's some other great insights that can be gained from the movie, though. After the movie, my wife asked me: If that were you in Phil's place, what would you do? What kind of things would you spend your time doing? I expected this question because I had pondered it myself at some length after my first time seeing the film.
My first inclination was that, were I placed in a similar time-loop situation, having the ability to act without apparent consequence, I would likely go through many of the same phases that Phil did, to a lesser degree. I began to list the things I would do or develop within myself... Then I realized that if you broke this question down to it's essence, it becomes a very familiar question to many Independant Business Owners (IBOs): If time and money were no object, what would you do with your life?
Or as an IBO might ask a prospect to itemize on a 3x5 card in a 2-Step, What are the things that you absolutely have to do, have or accomplish in your life before you die?
I encourage you to go through this exercise yourself if you haven't before, or recently. Whatever you come up with is your "Why." And whatever vehicle you choose to best address your "Why," you will never find satisfaction in life unless/until you are at least actively making progress towards the accomplishment of those things.
And here's where the second insight comes in: Absent the advantage of a fictional 10-year timeloop, what is stopping you from accomplishing these things? Why can't you start working toward those things now?
The answer is the same as the real reason most IBO's don't build a big business, and the same reason Phil had gone his whole life previously without making those changes: Because there's nothing forcing you to do it.
Or, more accurately, in both Phil's case and your own, nothing had yet driven home the realization that the actions, habits and attitudes that make up character must change in order to be and have the things in life that make one truly happy.
In reality, you and I will never have an actual Groundhog Day in Phil's sense-- and yet...
To return to Phil's drinking buddy in the bowling alley, on a certain level, Groundhog Day is the story of our lives. More likely than not, you knew yesterday what time you would be getting up today. Where did you go today, and what did you do? For most working adults, isn't it essentially the same thing you did the previous day? Same stuff, different day, right? Aren't you, like Phil, tired of playing by "their" rules?
So the date on Phil's calendar never changed and that time loop gave him effectual immortality. So the things he did had no apparent consequence. Otherwise, though, are we really that different from him? Don't we often feel that many of the struggles we go through are of no consequence? And yet...
There did turn out to be one thing that persisted, one consequence: Since he retained his memories from the previous iterations of the day, the consequence of his struggles was his character change, and it was ultimately his character change which made the difference.
And HOW did he do it? Slowly, painfully, one "day" at a time. By maximizing his time outside of his daily obligation (his morning broadcast from Gobbler's Knob, i.e his job). By focusing on the most important activities (thereby replacing the irrelevant or unconstructive activities). By being on purpose. We are no different.
Today is Groundhog Day. Every day.
What are you going to do with it?
Last night to celebrate Groundhog Day, my wife and I watched the Harold Ramis movie, Groundhog Day. (what else?)
If you haven't seen it, I recommend it-- it's one of the most inspirational comedy films of our time. Wikipedia has a good plot summary (Spoiler Warning!) but the theme I'd like to focus on is illustrated in a scene early in the film when Phil (played brilliantly by Bill Murray) begins to realize the implications of being stuck in a time loop.
While this story's plot is about this day that keeps repeating for Phil, this story on a deeper level explores what it means to be stuck in life, using the mechanism of the main character in a time loop.
He says to one of the blue-collar locals he's getting drunk with, "What would you do if you were stuck in one day and nothing you did mattered?"
The man replies, "That about sums it up (my life) for me."
A funny, observant line. Like the humor in most well-done comedies, it's rings true to how many people feel about their lives at least some of the time.
Phil decides to drive his drunk friends home, when the question arises, "What if there was no tomorrow?"
The answer, of course, is that Phil could do anything he wanted. And he does. "I am not going to play by their rules any longer," he declares as he goes for a drunk-driving spree. At first, Phil uses the situation to magnify all the worst parts of his character-- lust, greed, gluttony. Eventually, the indulgences bore him and he sets his sights on Rita, his producer. But none of the tricks he had plyed to bed the local women work on her, and as he falls genuinely in love with her, he comes to realize that the reason is character: "I could never love someone like you."
He recognizes himself for what he is, and fears he will never realize the love he feels for Rita. "...I don't deserve someone like you, but if I ever could, I swear I would love you for the rest of my life."
After going through a self-pitiful suicidal phase, Phil embarks on a journey of personal development: He studies piano, classic literature and poetry, masters ice sculpture. He begins to use his (by now) nearly omniscient knowledge of the town on that day to serve others: Catching a boy falling out of a tree, fixing the flat tire of an elderly woman, saving a man choking on his steak in a restaurant, buying the entire spectrum of product offerings from a former high-school acquaintence turned insurance salesman, giving all his money to a old street beggar and later trying repeatedly (though unsuccessfully) to prevent the old man's death at the end of each iteration of the day. As the film nears resolution, Phil has learned to truly love himself, his (albeit repetative) life, the people of Punxsutawney and becomes a genuinely attractive person through the process. Everyone who comes to know him, loves him. Including Rita. And upon his successful transformation-- he has gone from being what National Review's Jonah Goldberg calls "a thoroughly postmodern man: arrogant, world-weary, and contemptuous without cause" to a caring, selfless, charismatic person-- the spell is broken, the time loop ends, and he is able to move on with his life.
The brilliance of the film is the clever illustration of one of the laws which govern success: Becoming a great person requires placing the interest of others ahead of one's own. It's the great irony of life, and it applies in all areas, including business. John C. Maxwell defines charisma through the illustration that, when you walk into a room, your focus is on other people and adding value to them.
There's some other great insights that can be gained from the movie, though. After the movie, my wife asked me: If that were you in Phil's place, what would you do? What kind of things would you spend your time doing? I expected this question because I had pondered it myself at some length after my first time seeing the film.
My first inclination was that, were I placed in a similar time-loop situation, having the ability to act without apparent consequence, I would likely go through many of the same phases that Phil did, to a lesser degree. I began to list the things I would do or develop within myself... Then I realized that if you broke this question down to it's essence, it becomes a very familiar question to many Independant Business Owners (IBOs): If time and money were no object, what would you do with your life?
Or as an IBO might ask a prospect to itemize on a 3x5 card in a 2-Step, What are the things that you absolutely have to do, have or accomplish in your life before you die?
I encourage you to go through this exercise yourself if you haven't before, or recently. Whatever you come up with is your "Why." And whatever vehicle you choose to best address your "Why," you will never find satisfaction in life unless/until you are at least actively making progress towards the accomplishment of those things.
And here's where the second insight comes in: Absent the advantage of a fictional 10-year timeloop, what is stopping you from accomplishing these things? Why can't you start working toward those things now?
The answer is the same as the real reason most IBO's don't build a big business, and the same reason Phil had gone his whole life previously without making those changes: Because there's nothing forcing you to do it.
Or, more accurately, in both Phil's case and your own, nothing had yet driven home the realization that the actions, habits and attitudes that make up character must change in order to be and have the things in life that make one truly happy.
In reality, you and I will never have an actual Groundhog Day in Phil's sense-- and yet...
To return to Phil's drinking buddy in the bowling alley, on a certain level, Groundhog Day is the story of our lives. More likely than not, you knew yesterday what time you would be getting up today. Where did you go today, and what did you do? For most working adults, isn't it essentially the same thing you did the previous day? Same stuff, different day, right? Aren't you, like Phil, tired of playing by "their" rules?
So the date on Phil's calendar never changed and that time loop gave him effectual immortality. So the things he did had no apparent consequence. Otherwise, though, are we really that different from him? Don't we often feel that many of the struggles we go through are of no consequence? And yet...
There did turn out to be one thing that persisted, one consequence: Since he retained his memories from the previous iterations of the day, the consequence of his struggles was his character change, and it was ultimately his character change which made the difference.
And HOW did he do it? Slowly, painfully, one "day" at a time. By maximizing his time outside of his daily obligation (his morning broadcast from Gobbler's Knob, i.e his job). By focusing on the most important activities (thereby replacing the irrelevant or unconstructive activities). By being on purpose. We are no different.
Today is Groundhog Day. Every day.
What are you going to do with it?
posted by anonibo at 17:55
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