I’ve always written my blog posts inspired by events in my life. For the last eight years, working as a fitness professional at Lifetime, I’ve had so many of my posts driven by my work with clients. But as a creator, I find it interesting that inspiration can come from the most unexpected places. Case in point: the last two nights.
Two nights ago, I was looking for something to watch with just a little downtime before bed. I’d been seeing the thumbnail for The Tomorrow War on Amazon Prime’s homepage. I’m a huge Chris Pratt fan—loving his role in Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy and Avengers, and probably even more so in the Jurassic World trilogy (I own the first one and have watched it more times than I can count). I remembered The Tomorrow War as an extremely intense movie because of the vicious aliens, not the kind of film I usually watch on repeat, like Jurassic Park. But for some reason, I felt inspired—or called—to start it. I watched the first 15 or 20 minutes, then it was time for bed.
Last night I picked it back up with more time on my hands, knowing I could finish it. Little did I know the story at the end would hit me upside the head like a brick and give me the inspiration for this post.
In life, we seldom get second chances. In some cases, there are no second chances at all. What’s done is done. There’s no way to turn back the sands of time and redo decisions or mistakes.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned over the years—drummed into me by my mentors Andy Andrews, the late great Jim Rohn (America’s foremost business philosopher), and even Jack Canfield, co-author of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series—is the absolute necessity of accepting 100% responsibility for where you are in life. As Andy puts it, you are where you are because of the choices and decisions you’ve made. If you don’t like any aspect of your life, it really is as simple as making different choices.
You can’t change what you’ve already done. You can’t rewind the tapes. There are no redos. But if you’re not happy with a given area of your life, you can always—starting right now, this very moment—begin making new decisions that will make all your tomorrows different.
People are quick to argue with that idea. “Well, I didn’t choose to get rear-ended or get that flat tire…” True—bad things happen every single day. God never promised us sunshine and roses. But as Andy says, you always have a choice in how you respond. You can respond in a solution-oriented way, or you can moan, complain, and stay stuck. I choose to live in the solution—or at least try to.
As I watched the movie, Chris Pratt’s character (Dan Forester) is recruited from the present into the future to fight a war against aliens annihilating humanity. Little does he know he’s going to come face-to-face with his own daughter—now grown. When he left, she was about 12. What she tells him is the real “aha” moment for me (and it has nothing to do with the overall plot). She reveals that seven years after his jump to the future, he dies in a car accident. More importantly, she tells him what happened before that: he wasn’t happy with his career. That unhappiness consumed him, ruined his marriage, led to separation and divorce, and shattered his family. He stands there in utter shock, remembering that his last memory at home with his wife and daughter had felt perfect—yet that path led to total collapse.
He gets the rare gift of seeing exactly where his current trajectory was headed, then returns to the present with a chance to change everything. (I’ll project that he spent the rest of his life loving his wife and daughter the way they deserved.) That’s the power of the movie.
There are areas of my life right now that I’m not happy with. I love my career and what I do for work, yet there are parts I’m very unhappy with. I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve let that unhappiness affect relationships in every area of my life—coworkers, clients, friends, and family. The common denominator in all of it is me. In the spirit of 100% responsibility, I can leave things the way they are… or I can take steps today to make them better.
The parallel stories are uncanny. First, It’s a Wonderful Life and George Bailey—one of my favorite Christmas movies. George was discontent with his lot in life, especially his career. Even though he had a beautiful wife and loving family, the discontent grew until he wanted to end it all. Then, like Dan Forester, he got to see how life would be without him. The attitude shift when he came back was massive.
Then there’s the true story of Alfred Nobel, the man who created dynamite. When his brother died, a newspaper accidentally ran Alfred’s obituary instead, calling him the “merchant of death” for all the destruction dynamite had caused. That fake obituary was his wake-up call. He couldn’t undo inventing dynamite (Pandora’s box was already open), but in the spirit of 100% responsibility, he spent the rest of his life making different choices—and that’s how the Nobel Peace Prize was born. Today, when we hear “Alfred Nobel,” we think peace prizes, not dynamite.
All three stories hammer home the same truth: second chances are rare. Perspective is everything. Andy Andrews taught me that you can take an absolutely horrific situation and flip it to the positive with nothing but a shift in perspective. You can whine about your air conditioner going out… or be grateful you have a house with an air conditioner that needs fixing. Same with the $650 car repair before Christmas—I could be mad, or grateful I have a paid-for car and the money in my checking account to fix it. It’s all perspective.
The movie was a kick in the pants for me. I’ve allowed myself to slip off track. I have relationships that need repair, and it’s all on me. Relationships like the one with my first-grade best friend (health horrendous, a walking time bomb who reached out for my birthday and I didn’t answer because I was in a bad headspace), two of my best golf buddies (silent for over a year), another childhood best friend who now lives in California (same, about a year), and a special friend who for a season of life was like a second mom (her husband Renee died almost 10 years ago and I’ve had barely one real conversation since, just Facebook exchanges), and other estranged family members, and it’s all on me.
The clock is ticking, and you just never know—I’m reminded of that every day, especially with Chuck Norris passing at 86 and my mom at 80 in declining health. If I keep moving forward the same way, some of those relationships will stay broken—not beyond repair, but the longer the silence lasts, the harder it gets. In some cases, others might reach out; in others, it’s on me to make the first move. I can’t blame outside circumstances—that just gives away my power to change things.
Bad things are going to happen; that’s life. But I always have a choice in how I respond. I can give energy to what I don’t like and make it worse, or I can live in the solution, figure out the fix, and start taking steps.
My gut tells me that if I don’t make some different choices—starting with my attitude toward my career (being more grateful for what I have right now while still moving toward what’s next)—and with my relationships, the future won’t look the way I want it to. I don’t need a full apology tour, but I do need to do the work. Maybe it’s as simple as making a list of people, ranking them by priority, and starting down that list—one relationship at a time. It reminds me of the amends step in Alcoholics Anonymous (I’ve never been through AA, but that part of their program feels exactly right). I may even do a little more research into that as my “live in the solution” next step—then actually pick up the phone or send the message.
Second chances are rare in life. The Tomorrow War, George Bailey, and Alfred Nobel all got one. I don’t have a time machine, and neither do you. But I do have today. So I’m choosing to make new decisions right now that will make my tomorrows different.
If this collection of thoughts—sparked by a very intense sci-fi war movie—adds any value to your life, then my job is done. That’s always my intention when I write: to serve others. If it helps you, God bless you, and best of luck in your journey.
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