Groundhog Day
It is months since I last sat down to write anything more than journal entries on the romances and the longings in my life. Those are nicely tucked away in my bedside drawer. Not enough distance from some of that yet to convert into my FB fodder or blog.
What more is there? Another year turns. A lot feels familiar. Take this weekend. I drove with Cedar (and Lily) to his college in Spokane, the car loaded with black plastic bags stuffed with clothes, soccer balls, cleats, a huge bag of sour gummies, emergency ramen, the decorated longboard ... college dorm essentials.
Last year I did the same. 6 hours to the east, an AirB&B overnight, lunch together in the cafeteria, hugs, missing him before I even get in the car, and then squinting into the western sun for another 6 hours as I carry my heart gently home again.
What else? The Italian plums are ripe in the last throws of summer. Same ladder that doesn’t quite reach, same trees with their abundance and others that took the year off, same jam recipe on my kitchen table.
Have you ever seen Groundhog Day with Bill Murray? And Andie McDonald who is my crush, my vision of the Divine Woman. I hadn’t until this last weekend. Shocking but true. And the kids almost outmaneuvered me into another Marvel movie rerun. But I thought, lets try something new.
”When was it made dad?”
“ Er..30 years ago. 1993.”
“Really! But that’s ...”
“Hey hey, no ageism in this house thank you.”
If you haven’t seen it, the plot follows a big city weatherman (Bill Murray is Phil) while he is reporting on the celebrations around the day that traditionally gives hope for those wanting to see an end to winter. Groundhog Day. Apparently the first groundhogs often rouse from their hibernation in early February.
This is how it goes. Phil is a smug celebrity and he sees himself as superior in every way to the local small-town folk. He makes his report and wants to leave that same day. The weather he has forecast for his big city audience, however, is wrong. Roads are all closed due to a blizzard. He cannot escape. But not only can he not escape the town, he cannot escape the 24 hours he is living through in Hicksville. He is stuck in a time loop. Each time he goes to bed, he wakes up with the identical 6 am alarm and radio hosts advising folks to use some chap-stick on their lips because it is icy out there. Another February 2nd, and another chance to choose how to live through it.
How would I live if I knew that there were absolutely no consequences because my day starts again at 6 AM no matter what I do? No matter what I do or don’t do, tomorrow I will wake at 6 am with a clean slate and the same opportunities. What do vampires do with their endlessness?
For one, I would not have to adhere to ordinary rules or moral boundaries. There are no consequences to ignoring the needs of others, or shoplifting, or outrageous one night stands, or breaking open an ATM. As soon as I awake the following morning, I am back where I was.
Nice.
Phil follows those primal indulgences until they are no longer satisfying. He is miserable. Once a celebrity snob, he discovers excess of stuff and status no longer drive him. He slips into an existential crisis and in his depression he steals the groundhog and drives himself over a cliff. Only to awake at 6am, clean and clear. Didn’t Kohelet and the Buddha also despair of indulgences and then adopt a renounciate’s existence? Neither of which led to fulfillment. Neither indulgences nor deprivation. Death (or Phil’s suicide attempt) would be the ultimate renunciation of life. Where to from here? What to get up for, if anything?
Now that is a familiar feeling. When I am stuck from time to time I get slothful rather than suicidal and above my head hangs the huge question mark of my Why. But Phil has his muse. His producer, Andie McDowell. His goal is to be the love she desires. He returns each day with more information about her and uses it to reel her in… ordering her favorite drink or supporting her charity. But she sees through his plot and isn’t fooled. Those are just manipulations and another expression of his self interest. With no progress on that front, he is stuck in his loneliness and knows he must try something new.
What is it that she does that makes her happy? He becomes very curious. And what he sees in her is a deeply connected, compassionate human being, doing good in the world. So he reasons with himself. I want some of what she’s got. He signs up to master some skills that would be fantastic to share. Apparently self improvement is the one thing that does carry from day to day i this groundhog day context. And each day he works on his French, piano and ice sculpture skills. He masters the piano and shares his music, he learns to make ice sculptures and decorates the winter festivities, he buys insurance from his irritating school mate, he feeds the homeless guy so that his last day will be more comfortable. He discovers that being in service to others in this moment, on this day, is all he needs to love this life, even the one he is stuck in.
What started out as being the worst day in a smug presenters’ life, holed up in mediocrity, evolves into the best day of his life where he observes and appreciates a more nuanced reality every time he cycles through it. There is no hope for a future (everything resets at 6am). So all that is left is this very day, in fact, this very singular moment. By embracing the world around him, Groundhog Day becomes the best day of his life and wait for it... the day he falls in love.
A lot of my days are recalls from last year or last week. A time loop of sorts. The trip to Spokane was one of those. The ripening of the plums another. How much more poignant my farewells and delicious my breakfast plates could be were I to grasp those moments for their slow detail and blessed transience.
