On Bill Murray and the practice of acrophobia
how many remarkable fools does it take to change a lightbulb?
Every few years Bill comes back to me.
Typically, an article shows up in my feed talking about the odd ball antics of Bill Murray. I bite and start reading articles. One becomes another then yet another. I become bewitched by Bill and go on an all out Bill Murray Blitz.
Every Bill Blitz begins with reading articles about Bill. Next, I move on to re watching old SNL clips, interviews and appearances on late night television. Longer, full on campaigns, feature a barrage of movies from every era of Bill. No Bill Blitz is complete however without a viewing of Groundhog Day.
Groundhog Day is a classic 90’s movie and my personal favourite Bill Blockbuster.
In Groundhog Day, for the unbillmiliar,1 Bill plays Phil Connors, a cynical weather forecaster who gets stuck in a time loop. Life has a funny of repeating itself…
No single movie is more important in the understanding of the human condition than Groundhog Day. In our lives we constantly are repeating ourselves. Unlike in the film, we don’t play the same day over and over again. Time marches on. We merely play out similar games and behaviours as though they were jazz.
We play our ‘standards’ with some variation and improvisations but the structures stay the same.
We repeat until we change.
We need multiple repetitions to learn things.
Bop.
And whatever we’re dealing with, the difficulties of life? They keep coming back in some way shape or form.
I was once so terrified of heights that I would freeze when I faced them.
I got over that fear through repetition.
I haven’t been up high in twenty years.
I’m a bit out of practice.
Comfort at heights is one of those things that requires repetition and practice.
Well it’s Groundhog Day again.
I’m facing my fear of heights. (again)
It’s for the Behind the Scenes, the tee vee show I’m hosting. I have a lightbulb to change.
I’m not just changing any lightbulb
I’m climbing to the top of the MacDonald bridge here in Dartmouth. After climbing a ladder that’s a hundred and fifty feet tall, I’ll be over three hundred and fifty feet above the water. Once there, I change a lightbulb.
Merely writing those numbers, has me experiencing waves of dread, of terror. My guts sink. My arms get heavy. I feel a little like a bike with a tire that has a slow leak. I can keep going, but the bounce is a bit hollow.
A bit of fear is healthy. It’s a reminder to get ready and to make sure there’s lots of air in the tires for the trip.
Most importantly, I’ve practiced being afraid of heights. I’m good at it. In fact, I’m so good at being afraid of heights that I can still function really high up while a an angry badger in my chest is screaming. I know how to face, experience and move through my fear of heights. Once I get going, I’ll be fine.
Do you find yourself dealing with shit that you thought should have disappeared years ago?
How do you live in your own personal Groundhog Day?
What if these are games we play and these traps we fall into were merely practice?
What if you could get better at being bad?
unbillmiliar, those unfamiliar with all things Bill.
Perfect.
It's good to know that the professionally trained clown is afraid of heights. It adds a good dose of humanity. Being a clown is a very human profession.
We tend to dehumanize the experience of others while looking for understanding of our own. We think clowns are fearless and confident. Clearly, not true. We think teachers enjoy marking papers. They do that a lot. They must enjoy it. It's the worst part of the job for most. We think firefighters are adrenaline junkies and tax preparers are boring. Film people are glamourous and musicians love to perform in concerts. We are wrong about people. We are very wrong. Yet, we expect people to get us. Why don't they understand me? Don't they care? Well, actually, they don't. Heck, I have trouble caring about what's going on with me. Why would anyone else care. They don't. Thank Heavens they don't. Knowing that others don't really care allows me to be however I am. Invisibility is awesome.
I attended a concert last evening. It's been so long. The artist, yes, he's a musician, but be is an artist more than a musician. Some people play instruments. Some people play music. Few people are instruments. Even fewer are music. This fellow is music. His body, his spirit flows from physical to the medium of music with a note. Watching someone transform from human to music and back again as a song ends was a privilege. I can't understand that alchemy. But it is fascinating. I watched Jim do an impersonation of his clowning mentor. His face changed shape. He became French. I saw it. He changed from being Jim into another person. The alchemy happened. He was doing what we was put here to do. It's a privilege to see that in a person.
I am a teacher, but what I really do is show people how to see things in a new way. As we sat in our seats last evening, my spouse, whose Dad was involved in music, retold his personal story about spending lots of time as a child in the music hall playing with Dinkies while his Dad was in meetings. I nodded. I motioned to the stage. I have spent more time on that than in a seat here. This is a common graduation venue. I didn't perform. I was an honoured participant in the recognition of my students. I felt comfortable there. More so than in these seats.
Our identities change. It's wonderful. After today, Jim will have had an unusual life experience. He's had many and he's just getting started. I have front row seats and lots of popcorn.