Groundhorse Day

This weekend, I took some time to share one of my favorite movies with my family, Groundhog Day with Bill Murray and Andie McDowell.  In this movie, Phil the weatherman travels to a small town to report on whether or not the Groundhog, also named Phil, will see his shadow or not.  Phil the weatherman is sarcastic, egocentric, selfish, rude and snobbish.  Some quirk in the universe traps Phil in the same day, February 2.  He wakes up over and again in the same bed and breakfast, the clock showing 6:00 AM.

Years ago, when my children were all small, and Jamal used our only car for work, I felt very much like I was waking up to the same day over and over again.  The setting remained the same, the characters in my life were the same, and pretty much what I did every day stayed pretty much the same: diapers, feeding, straightening (repeat chorus).  What I love about this movie are several things.  One, I really like how he starts out by totally wigging out about the situation, and drinking, and being depressed…when he’s talking to some of the guys at the bowling alley, he asks them, “What if every day were the same…the same people, the same thing happening day after day.”  And they both look at their drinks and say, “Yup, that about sums it up for me.”

Another thing I like about this movie, is that when he pursues the woman lead, played by Andie McDowell, and learns everything about her…he still doesn’t win her or get out of the situation.  His main goal is completely thwarted.  His depression grows.

The best thing about this movie is the major change in focus, when his attention is caught by an old homeless man and he swtiches his focus from winner her heart to helping the people in this community.  He has the opportunity to learn what’s going to happen, and position himself to help.  To give of himself in a way that is completely unique to his situation, and at odds with the person who he was when he arrived.

When it comes to working with the horses, the routine can become set…performing the same ritual and routines over and over again.  In Saudi, with my horses, I would drive out to the barn and start some coffee, say ‘hello’ to the horses and let them know I was there.  I would tidy in the tack room, and pour a cup of coffee in the cool, blue early morning, and sit in a wicker chair and listen to the doves coo in the enormous trees surrounding the stall areas.  I would assemble the tack and go get a horse.

Much like in the movie though, Kemo, and then Pasha would often times not react the way that I wanted them to react to me.  Instead, it would be like the many scenes where Phil got slapped by woman whose heart he was trying to win.  A horse was off that day, or he needed a trim rather than a ride, or something else wouldn’t be right or would go absolutely wrong.  I would head home on those days and wonder what I thought I was doing, maybe I should sell the horse and find a new hobby.

Here in Vermont, I feel a sameness from day to day.  The alarm clock rings at the same time every morning, and I get out of bed, grab a cup of coffee while the computer kicks into gear.  I say ‘good morning’ to the cats, and now the bird.  I check my mail, my facebook, my statistics (love the statistics!).  Before I know it, it’s time to feed the horses.

*just fed horses*

After feeding time, there is a blank slate from the end of morning chores at 7:20-ish (depending on how much sweeping there is) until 6:30PM when it’s chore time again there are hours of possibility.  I can spend them however I choose.  Everything we do is impermanent, temporary, and can be washed away in a moment by natural disaster, or grief, or illness or other unexpected event.   The only moment one has in time, is now.  By letting go of the goals, and shifting the focus to what’s in front of us that we can change, that we can adjust, like ourselves and our approach to things, sometimes the desired goal will click into place.

“What if there is no tomorrow?  There wasn’t one today!” asks Phil, on the phone with the operator trying to get a long distance call to connect.