Happy birthday

Happy birthday to sleigh!

The magic of Groundhog Day

This post at Positivity Blog [positivity_rss] caught my eye, and I've been thinking about it for the past day or two. Basically, the blogger, Paul Hannam, is talking about about the lessons which can be gleaned from the Bill Murray movie "Groundhog Day." (He wrote a book on the subject, The Magic of Groundhog Day.)

In the movie "Groundhog Day," the main character, Phil Connors, is stuck in the same time and place. He is forced to relive the same day over and over again. In our own lives, I believe that we are stuck in our own version of Groundhog Day.

In our outer lives, in what we do at home and at work, many of us go through the same routines day after day – the same routine when we get up, the same commute, the same jobs, the same conversations with our colleagues and family.

And in our inner lives, what we think and how we feel, we tend to live the same day again and again too.

What traps us is not a time loop, but our conditioning that acts as a form of time loop as we are trapped by habits formed in our past. We experience each day through our conditioning - the same attitudes, thoughts, worries and emotions that we have carried with us since childhood.

So how do we break out of a rut? read more.

This dovetails with some thinking I've been doing lately along these same lines myself. I've been thinking about my similiarities to Phil, about my own dissatisfaction with my job, my life, my sometimes overwhelming sense that I'm stuck in a rut, my on-going battles with depression. In "Groundhog Day," Phil transforms his life by transforming himself, his attitude about the people around him. This story also caught my eye a little while ago. A young man who had Down's Syndrome had a job bagging groceries at a grocery store. Not a very glamorous or interesting job, but he decided, by golly, that he was going to work to become the very best bagger in the city.

He went home and, with the help of his father, typed up inspirational sayings and quotes. Then, he cut them out and took them to work. Every time he put groceries in a bag, he would add one of the little inspirational quotes. It made Johnny happy to spread a little joy, and the customers loved it, too.

In fact, they really loved it. So much so that pretty soon, people were lining up to get their groceries bagged by Johnny. It didn’t matter if another checkout was open, people would stand in line to meet Johnny and get one of his inspirational sayings with their weekly shop.

From a mundane job, Johnny created something extraordinary.

Edited to add: My sister sent me a link to a video here which has more information on this story about Johnny the bagger.

I remembered the story of a charwoman who scrubbed floors in a hospital, but who was perfectly happy, because when asked what she did for a living, she said, "I help heal the sick."

So I've been thinking about how to apply the lessons of "Groundhog Day" to my own life. I was thinking about my paper journal last night--I've been going for days without making an entry, which is quite troubling. (I've kept it on a daily basis since the age of 14.) The fact is, since my sense of myself as a writer has retreated from my daily life, the paper journal seems sucked dry of meaning, boring, banal, pointless. Yeah, like my life. It's getting to the point that I have to force myself to make an entry; I don't enjoy it. How can I transform my relationship to my paper journal? I have been toying with the idea of getting some colored pens and simply playing in it in a different way, the way that some of the enormously talented people do in the LJ community embodiment. I've written one page a day, always with a black ball point pen, for years. What if I did nothing but draw in it for a year? I'm a lousy artist, but it might be different, might make me approach it in a fresh manner.

So anyway, that's what I've been thinking about.

I might have to pick up Hannam's book.

WHEN WILL I UNDERSTAND THE HOOK KICK?

We were doing spin hook kicks last night. I felt like such a klutz. It was as if my body just couldn't get the sequence: first chamber, then extend, then whip the leg across. All the while spinning on your supporting leg.

My only comfort is cold comfort indeed: the other red belt who was there last night was having an even harder time than me. She wasn't chambering at all. She had the flu, however, which was a valid excuse.

How long until my body gets how to do this kick without me consciously thinking about the mechanics? It is as if the part of my brain that controls this kick has had a ministroke or something. It is so odd, this sensation that every time I do this kick, I have to figure it out all over again. Weird.