Like almost everyone I’ve ever met, I love the movie Groundhog Day.

There are lots of reasons why I like this movie. First of all, Bill Murray. (Need I say more?) Second, I often love movies like this — ones that are mostly realistic but with one surreal twist (like Being John Malkovich or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). It also has a special place in my heart because I once got to take a workshop with screenwriter Danny Rubin (who turned out to be a pretty cool guy and even answered a question I’d been wondering for over a decade).*

Most importantly, though, I like movies that — whether or not they’re realistic — ring true on a psychological level. And Groundhog Day definitely does.

No, we don’t literally live the same day over and over. More often than not, however, we spend most days with the same people, in the same places, doing the same things, thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same emotions. Sure, the details change, but (with only occasional exceptions for special events, peak moments, and unexpected twists) the underlying experience of our life tends to be pretty consistent from one day to the next. Just like it is for Phil Connors in Groundhog Day.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. If we basically live the same day over and over, we can make that one day as good as possible. We can make it fulfilling. We can make it joyous. We can make it great.

From this perspective, the question becomes: What can you do to make your almost-recurring day a good one? How can you use your 24 hours (or 16, assuming you get a decent night’s sleep) to help yourself and others? What change(s) would take your day from bad to OK, or from OK to good, or from good to great? What’s one small tweak to your daily routine that could shift your day even a tiny bit in this direction?

When I asked myself these questions, the answer (for me) was obvious: write. Every day. I’ve also made other changes to my daily routine — most significantly, starting with “Life SAVERS” from Hal Elrod’s The Miracle Morning: Silence (meditation), Affirmations, Visualization, Exercise, Reading, and Scribing (better known as writing, but that wouldn’t make for a good acronym — or even a pronounceable one).

I’m now one month into this routine and, yes, reliving the same steps every morning is starting to feel a bit like Groundhog Day at times. But in a good way (think of Bill Murray at the end of the film) because I’ve consciously chosen these steps rather than responding to whatever the world happens to throw my way. And it sets the tone for a positive day to come — complete with recurring positive thoughts, actions, and results.

No, my semi-recurring day is not the most glamorous one imaginable. Unlike the film, my typical day doesn’t include any TV appearances, virtuoso piano performances, life-saving heroics, or ice sculpting. (On the plus side, I don’t have to listen to Sonny & Cher.) 😉

But it’s a day that feels more like me. My thoughts are more uplifting and my actions are more aligned with my values than they used to be. Plus, I’m seeing some positive results, particularly with my writing — including these words!

In the days to come, I hope you’ll do whatever it takes to turn your own version of Groundhog Day into one that you actually enjoy reliving (or at least reliving many of its general aspects, if not every last detail). It doesn’t require an entire life overhaul — or even an entire morning overhaul — just a subtle shift in the direction you want to go in: a few deep breaths and a smile each morning, 20 minutes for yourself at some point during the day, or a nightly pause to reflect on something you appreciated during the day. I think you’ll be amazed at how quickly you can go from feeling trapped in your life — stuck in a rut, repeating unwanted patterns — to embracing and cherishing your life…one day at a time.

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* By the way, here’s the question I asked Danny Rubin: I first saw Groundhog Day shortly after reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra, in which Nietzsche raises the hypothetical question of eternal recurrence — the idea of reliving the same experiences over and over again. See the similarity? I did — so, while chatting after the workshop, I asked Rubin if he’d written Groundhog Day with Nietzsche’s concept in mind. He said no, he hadn’t made the connection until someone brought it up to him after the movie was released. Nonetheless, both representations of this idea can be viewed as either horrifying or as the ultimate affirmation of life. I choose the latter interpretation. 🙂

(photo ©1993 — courtesy of Columbia Pictures)

This is the last post I will write during the first half of my life. Not because I’m exactly 50% through my life (or approaching any significant external milestone) but because I’ve made a decision that will divide my life into “Before” and “After” segments: I’m going to stop dancing around the periphery.

Allow me to explain…

For decades, I’ve inhabited the edges of what I consider my “true life”: the life where I pursue my passions wholeheartedly, rather than merely dabbling. The life where I wake up excited to spend my days focused on what matters most to me, rather than repeatedly pushing the snooze button on my dreams. The life where I dive headlong into the ocean of authenticity, rather than tentatively dipping my toe in the pool. The life where I step into the arena, rather than watching from the sidelines.

The life that actually feels like me.

For me, this true life is largely about dedicating myself to my writing — finishing and publishing the books that have been dancing through my mind for years, keeping me awake at night but, come daylight, go scurrying into the shadows, consigned to the edges of my consciousness and forced to subside on scraps (figuratively and literally, as I hurriedly jot down my ideas on scraps of paper rather than giving them the space and time they deserve and fully fleshing them out).

But this is also about other changes I’m implementing in 2020 — simplifying and streamlining my business, getting healthier, and consistently maintaining a daily practice of gratitude, meditation, affirmations, visualizations, and relaxation. (The last book I read, the book I’m currently reading, and the next book on my shelf are, respectively: Mini Habits, Tiny Habits, and Atomic Habits. Do you sense a trend?) 😉

More than any specific habits or practices, though, I’m committed to making this the year when I stop approaching my life as if I’m merely conducting “research” (to use Jung’s word), stop playing at living and start actually living.

So, why am I telling you this? Two main reasons:

First, because I know the power of making a public declaration — I’m now accountable to you and everyone who will ask me, “So, how’s your new ‘true life’ going?” I want to have a good answer for you! (I’ll definitely be checking in throughout the year — here, on Facebook, and elsewhere — so I’ll have many incentives to keep up the positive results.)

Second, because I hope that this sparks some latent desire in you to stop dancing around the periphery of your own life. Perhaps you, like me, have felt a nagging at your sleeve (or, as Morpheus memorably put it in The Matrix, a “splinter in your brain”) — a desire to embrace your true calling and live in a way that feels authentic and true to your fullest, highest self. Perhaps, like me, you feel like you’ve kept your true life waiting far too long.

I imagine a scenario in which my true life is sitting in my car, engine running, waiting to take me on an adventure — but I’m not quite ready (or so I claim). I scurry between the house and the driveway, loading the trunk, packing, unpacking, repacking, but never getting in the car. (In short, dancing around the periphery.)

Now and then, my true life rolls down the window and calls out to me: “Are we gonna do this, or what?” And I always say, “Yes…but not quite yet. As soon as I’m packed. After I’ve done a bit more research. Once I’m feeling a bit more confident.” And my true life grows increasingly impatient, but still it waits for me — engine running, ready to go the moment I give the word.

So, true life, consider this “the word.”

The Secret Sits

Over the past year, I’ve frequently thought of Robert Frost’s short poem “The Secret Sits” (“We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the Secret sits in the middle and knows”). While I may not know Frost’s “Secret,” I do know there’s more to life than dancing around the periphery. Yes, I know that safety, familiarity, and comfort reside on the edges of life — away from the heat (and the heart). But I also know that wisdom, truth, beauty, fulfillment, and divine mystery reside in the center.

I know it’s possible to go through your entire life without actually living your life. And that thought terrifies me because, to a large extent, I feel like I’ve been on this path for decades — a path that merely leads round and round the periphery.

But now is the moment when I officially leave that path. I’ve wasted more than enough time on it. Now it’s time to write. It’s time to commit. It’s time to dive in. It’s time to live.

So now when my true life asks me, “Are we gonna do this, or what?” I can say yes. No ifs, whens, or buts — just yes.

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P.S. If, like me, part of your authentic life involves writing a book, I hope you’ll join me in Your Soulful Book, a heart-centered program that provides all the tools, resources, and support you need to successfully write, publish, and market your soulful book in 2020. For information and to sign up, please visit www.yoursoulfulbook.com.