The 5 AM Club. Robin Sharma
playwright George Bernard Shaw:
This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.
I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community, and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can.
I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no ‘brief candle’ for me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.
The homeless man then fell to his knees. Kissed his holy beads. And continued to weep.
A Bizarre Adventure into Morning Mastery
“Everyone holds his fortune in his own hands, like a sculptor the raw material he will fashion into a figure… . The skill to mold the material into what we want must be learned and attentively cultivated.” —Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
“If you two are interested,” said the homeless man, “I’d be happy to spend a few mornings coaching you at my oceanside compound. I’ll show you my private morning routine and explain why dialing in the way you run your first hour to the highest degree is essential for personal mastery and exceptional business performance. Let me do this for you cats. Your lives will start to look glorious—within a fairly short time. And the ride with me will be fun. Not always easy, as we heard from the old guy on the stage. But valuable and prolific and beautiful. Maybe even as wonderful as the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.”
“First time I saw it I cried,” the artist said, stroking the hairs of his goatee.
“Michelangelo was a bad dude. And I mean that in a good way,” the homeless man offered as he, too, played with his beard, which was soiled. He then raised his shirt to show Greek god abdominal muscles. A long finger of a grimy hand moved along the contours, the way a raindrop zigzags down the stem of a rose after a May shower.
“Hit me with a stick,” shouted the artist with the enthusiasm of a cat let loose in a parrot shop. “How the heck did you get those?”
“Not from some plastic ab machine I bought from a late-night TV show, that’s for sure. Work is how I got all lean and chiseled up like this. Plenty of push-ups, pull-ups, planks, sit-ups and seriously sweaty cardio sessions, often on my special beach.” The homeless man pulled out an obviously expensive leather wallet, then carefully removed from it a piece of plastic with a drawing on it. Here’s what it looked like, so you see exactly what the entrepreneur and the artist saw in that moment:
Mae Besom
Without allowing for any responses from his two listeners, the disheveled drifter kept on speaking. “Commitment, discipline, patience and work. Values few believe in these days, where so many have an entitlement mentality, expecting a rich, productive and fulfilling life to just show up one day like a sparrow at the beginning of spring. And expecting everyone around them to invest the effort they are responsible for inputting. Where’s the leadership in this way of operating?
“A society of adults behaving like spoiled little children is how I sometimes see our world right now. Not judging, just saying. Not complaining, just reporting. Hey, cats, here’s the point I’m trying to make by letting you have a peek at my sculpted abs: Nothing works for those who don’t do the work. Less talk and more do is what I say. Oh, and check this out.”
The hobo spun around and unbuttoned his hole-ridden shirt. On his firm, striated back was a tattoo with the words “Victims love entertainment. Victors adore education.”
“Come hang with me at my place on a magical little island in the middle of a fantastic ocean, five hours from the coast of Cape Town.” He handed the entrepreneur the plastic card with the seaside scene etched on it. “Those are my dolphins,” he said, happily pointing to the hand-drawn image.
“The trip will be so worth it,” he continued. “The adventure of a lifetime, for sure. Some of your most valuable and sensational moments ever will unfold there. You need to take a trust walk with me, people. I’ll teach you everything I know about a world-class morning ritual. I’ll help you both become members of The 5 AM Club. You’ll learn to rise early, regularly—so you’ll get more done by noon than most people get done in a week, and so you’ll optimize your health, happiness and peacefulness. There’s a reason so many of the great achievers of the world get up before the sun—it’s the most special part of the day. I’ll explain how I used this revolutionary method to build my empire. And, to be clear, empires arrive in many forms—economic is just one of them. You can also create empires of artistry, productivity, humanity, philanthropy, personal freedom and even spirituality. I’ll download pretty much everything I’ve been blessed to have been taught by the mentor who transformed my life. You’ll discover so much. You’ll be moved at the deepest level. You’ll see the world through an all-new set of lenses. You’ll also eat the finest food and watch the most spectacular sunsets. You guys can swim in the sea, go snorkeling with the dolphins and fly over the sugar cane stalks that dance in the wind in the helicopter I own. And should you both accept my heartfelt invitation to visit me, I insist you stay at my home.”
“My God, you’re kidding me, right?” boomed the artist. It was becoming increasingly evident that, like many in his field, he was acutely emotional, vigilant to the infinitesimal and carried a sensitivity born of latent pain. Those who feel more than most people sometimes believe they have been cursed. In fact, they have been granted a gift: one that allows them to sense what others miss, experience the delights that most neglect and notice the majesty in ordinary moments. Yes, such people get hurt more easily, yet they are also the ones who create great symphonies, architect dazzling buildings and find cures for the sick. Tolstoy once noted that “only people who are capable of loving strongly can suffer great sorrow,” while the Sufi poet Rumi wrote, “You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” The artist seemed to personify these insights.
“Nope. Totally serious, dudes,” the homeless man said enthusiastically. “I have a house not far from a village called Solitude. And believe me, they named it accurately. It’s only when you get away from the noise and nuisance and be in quiet and tranquility that you remember who—and all—you’re truly meant to be. Just say yes to life. And let’s do this! Like the guru on the platform said, a magic will show up for you the more you start exploiting the terrific opportunities that appear along your path, seemingly by accident. You can’t win a game you don’t play, right? The reality is that life has got your back, even when it doesn’t look like it does. But you need to do your part and go all in when windows of opportunity appear. Oh—and if you come to my home on the island, the only thing I ask is that you stay long enough for me to teach you the philosophy and methodology that my secret adviser shared with me. Joining The 5 AM Club requires a little time.”
The homeless man paused before adding, “I’m also going to take care of all your expenses. Everything’s covered. I’ll even send my private jet to pick you guys up, if that’s cool.”
The entrepreneur and the artist glanced at each other, amused, confounded and entirely uncertain.
“Mind if my friend and I have a few moments alone, brother?” requested the artist, notebook still in hand.
“No sweat. Sure. Take all the time you need. I’ll just go back to my seat over there and make some calls to my executive team,” mentioned the homeless man as he paced away.
“This is absurd. Just asinine,” the artist said to