Tomorrow morning I will wake up in the same modest hotel room, hear the same noises, see the same people, and go through the same motions I went through yesterday. I’m trapped in the Valley, and I could think of no better day to meet this avoidably unexpected turn of events than the day Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow.
Maybe it will remain February 2nd for another few years. Maybe I’ll spend a few weeks testing fate with acts of debauchery leading to a seemingly untimely death, only to wake up and do it all again. Then I can take someone’s gentle advice and dedicate whatever extra time I’ve been granted to learning new things and improving myself, and I’ll see February 3rd.
On the other hand, maybe these last 10 months have been my continuously looping February 2nd. The hedonism is over and the compelling case to radiate kindness, love, and beauty has finally gotten through to me.
Tomorrow is February 3rd, and it’s gonna be so good.