Yep, it’s February 2nd, 2023, Groundhog Day! And I’d like to take this opportunity to share about one of my favorite movies of all time, Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell, on its 30-year(!) anniversary.
The film, known as an “existential comedy” by the great Harold Ramis, is now considered by most theologians to be one of the great depictions of a universal spiritual lesson - what the hell are we doing here, what is our purpose, and when do we achieve enlightenment? To Bill Murray’s character Phil Connors, it means having to live the same day over and over until he finally gets it right.
There's a popular phrase in 12-step rooms - "insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." There are innumerable ways and means in which I was the Phil Connors in my own life story, reliving the same experience over and over, furious and terrified and bewildered as hell, wondering why nothing was changing.
So, throughout my life as a creative, in order to pay rent and live, I would take these office jobs. It was the quintessential day job, trying to strike the perfect balance of little responsibility (entry level) and no demand (I'm not spending one fucking minute after 5PM at this bitch.) Because, I AM AN ARTIST. I don't have time for you people. I would look down my nose at the other workers, the interns, and of course the bosses, privilege and contempt dripping from my pores. You dare to ask me to wipe down the conference table or order lunch? I graduated magna cum laude! I studied Shakespeare, assholes! And, the years would pass and those interns would turn into my next bosses (meetings may be temporary but kale salad orders are forever.)
Sometimes I would try and pull a geographic - I'd quit the job in a dramatic fashion (oh, please, who am I kidding - I'd give a month's notice because I was sooooo indispensable), start looking at grad school applications in other states, or even move across the country. But somehow, no matter where I went, there I was - somehow with the same job, the same boss, the same misery and giant ol' chip on my shoulder getting ever heavier.
But what about your creative endeavors, you ask? Didn't you focus your energy and attention to working on your craft, using every possible free moment, each available cellular unit of energy, to create? That would be a giant fucking NOPE. Instead, I just became obsessed in the pursuit of it, much like Phil Connors' pursuit of Rita.
Just like Phil memorizing French poetry, I thought maybe if I KNEW all about the music industry, then I could finally break free of my self-imposed eternal prison. I turned into one of those annoying people you meet at cocktail parties, spouting expertise and blabbing about all the current trends in music, etc (I even made a podcast!). But to actually sit down at the keyboard and create??? Oh HELL no. My art was placed on such an insanely high pedestal, adrift in the waves of "if onlys" and "somedays" that it became the Moby Dick to my Captain Ahab, somewhere out there in mystical perfection, my hopes of ever finding it getting dimmer by the day.
Once Phil realizes that he can't escape this eternal day loop, the wheels come off and he starts acting out, in fun ways that eventually turn dark. For me, faced with my endless loop, It was far easier to "get busy dying," to quote my other favorite movie. Just stay in the shit, endlessly complain about this boss or that stupid-ass project, eat and drink away any notion of taking personal responsibility for my circumstances, and find whatever distraction I could* to relieve the anguish that I was a failure, a joke, a victim of life's cruel sense of humor. (*dive bars, Netflix binges and doom scrolling are a few favorites of mine)
So, what's the turning point, the solution, to all of this? For Phil, it's coming to terms with the fact that there is no solution. He's tried everything, including several creative ways to off himself, but he keeps waking up at the same time, in the same place, every day. He's had to let go of the illusion that he could control anything, least of all the possibility of a tomorrow.
He starts to poke around the walls of his self-imposed prison and starts taking a sincere interest in his fellow cell mates. He learns how to play piano (nice one, Phil!) He learns ice sculpture. In addition to self-improvement, he becomes a friend, a counselor, a comfort and a support to everyone in the town - a George Bailey of Punxsutawney, if you will. He learns to love without any expectation of return. And he tries to make each day, each "same" day, the best day of his life.
So, have I personally achieved Phil Connors' Nirvana? Um, no, because my life is not a movie. Have I been inspired and humbled by Groundhog Day? God, yes. When I stop and think about it, some of the coolest people, the smartest people, the most thoughtful and creative people I have ever met in La-la land were from these office jobs. Some of my most enduring friendships have come from office jobs. So much kindness and generosity came from the very people I resented - the bosses who asked about my music, came to a show, donated to my tip jar, championed me and protected me from far worse outcomes and possible destitution that I never realized until much later. Saved my ass, basically, and asked for nothing in return.
“Life is art. Art is life. I never separate it.” – Ai Weiwei Being an artist is tough. For whatever reason we have to support our art, sometimes over several lifetimes, until it can support us. However, the jewels of inspiration are in the fabric of the every day, the life we are living in this very moment. Sure, I'd rather be inspired by the whitewashed walls of Rick Rubin's studio than the gray matte fabric of an office cubicle, but life's what you make it, with the tools you've been given. To quote Phil Connors, "I think people place too much emphasis on their careers. I wish we could all live in the mountains at high altitude. That's where I see myself in five years. How about you?"
