The 5 AM Club: Own Your Morning. Elevate Your Life.. Robin Sharma

of a Martha’s Vineyard cottage meets Swedish farmhouse feel. It was both sensationally beautiful and completely private.

      A massive veranda at the back of the home extended over the ocean. A muddy mountain bike leaned against a wall. A surfboard rested near the end of the driveway. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows were the only extravagant architectural flourish. More precious flowers were meticulously arranged along a deck where a trolley supporting hors d’oeuvres, assorted cheeses and a service of fresh lemon tea with precisely cut slices of ginger waited. Sun-bleached gray steps wound down to a breathtakingly lovely beach, the type seen in the travel magazines the elite crowd like to read.

      Amid all this exquisiteness, an isolated figure stood on the milk-colored sand. He made not one movement. Perfect stillness.

      The man was Eiffel Tower tall, shirtless and bronzed, and sporting a pair of loose shorts with a camouflage pattern. Canary yellow sandals and uber-stylish sunglasses, the kind you might purchase on Via dei Condotti in Rome, completed the surfer Zen meets Soho swagger appearance. He peered out into the sea, remaining still as a star in the big African sky.

      “There,” said the entrepreneur, pointing. “We finally get to see our host. The illustrious Mr. Riley,” she noted energetically, picking up her pace as she hustled down the wooden stairs that led to the seashore. “Look at him! He’s just hanging out by the water, soaking up those rays and totally lovin’ life. Told you he’s special. So happy I trusted my gut and agreed to this wonderful escapade. He’s been true to his word, in a world where too many people say things they never do and make promises they fail to keep. He’s been super-consistent. He’s treated us so well. He doesn’t even know us, and yet he’s really trying to help us. Zero doubt in my mind he’s got our backs. Hurry up, will you,” she urged her slow-moving companion as she waved an encouraging hand. “I feel like giving Mr. Riley a giant hug!”

      The artist laughed as a baby gecko jaywalked across a broad plank. He took off his black shirt in the dazzling sunshine, exposing a Buddha-sized belly and man breasts the size of fleshy mangoes.

      “Me, too. He does walk his preach. Man, I need to get some sun,” the painter murmured as he sped up to stay close to the entrepreneur. He breathed hard.

      As the two guests walked toward the man at the water’s edge of this Nirvana of an ocean compound, they observed there were no other houses in sight. Not even one. Just a few wooden fishing boats with paint peeled off from the passage of years moored in the shallow waters near the shore. And aside from the sun worshipping empire-builder in Italian shades, there was no other human being in evidence. Anywhere.

      “Mr. Riley,” shouted the artist, now on the sand hungrily sucking air into his extraordinarily unfit lungs.

      The slender figure remained as fixed as a palace guard awaiting the arrival of the royal motorcade.

      “Mr. Riley,” echoed the entrepreneur passionately.

      No response. The man just kept looking out at the sea and at container ships the size of football stadiums that sat sprinkled across the horizon.

      The artist soon stood behind the set of intensely tanned shoulders of the figure and tapped three times on the left one. Instantly, the figure spun around. The two visitors gasped. The entrepreneur put a slender hand over her mouth. The artist jerked backward, instinctively, before falling to the sand.

      Both were stunned by what they saw.

      It was The Spellbinder.

CHAPTER 7

       Preparation for a Transformation Begins in Paradise

      “A child has no trouble believing the unbelievable, nor does the genius or the madman. It’s only you and I, with our big brains and our tiny hearts, who doubt and overthink and hesitate.” —Steven Pressfield

      “Um. Wow!” declared the entrepreneur with a crooked smile that displayed part surprise and part delight.

      “We were at your seminar. Um. You were brilliant up on that stage,” she finally managed to express, pivoting impressively from soft shock to the master-of-the-universe business bearing she was more accustomed to. “I lead a technology company. We’re what pundits in our industry call ‘a rocket ship’ because of the exponential growth we’ve been experiencing. Things were going phenomenally well until a little while ago …” The entrepreneur’s voice trailed off.

      She looked away from The Spellbinder and stared at the artist. For a moment she played nervously with her bracelets. The lines along her face became more vivid. And her visage gave off a heavy, tired and injured look in that instant, on that spectacular beach.

      “What happened?” asked The Spellbinder. “To your business?”

      “Some of the people who invested in my enterprise felt I had too much equity in it. They wanted more for themselves. Super-greedy people. So, they manipulated my executive team, convinced key employees to rally against me and are now trying to throw me out of the firm. That place is my whole life.” The entrepreneur choked up.

      A school of luxuriously colored tropical fish swam through the shallow water at the edge of the sand.

      “I was ready to take my life,” she carried on. “Until I showed up at your seminar. Many of your nuggets of knowledge gave me hope. A lot of your words made me feel strong again. Not sure exactly what it was, but you pushed me to believe in myself and my future. I just want to thank you.” She embraced The Spellbinder. “You’ve started me on the journey to optimizing my life.”

      “Thank you so much for your generous words,” The Spellbinder replied, appearing dramatically different from the way he looked the last time the entrepreneur and the artist saw him. Not only did he have that healthy glow people get from time in the sun, he now stood steadily and had gained a little weight.

      “I’m grateful for what you’ve said,” The Spellbinder continued. “But the truth is that I didn’t start you on the quest to improve your life. You are changing your life by starting the process of bringing application to my insights and methods—by implementing my teachings. So many people chat a good game. They tell you all the ambitions they’re going to get done and all the aspirations they plan to deliver on. I’m not judging. I’m just reporting. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying: most people stay the same their entire lives. Too frightened to leave the way they operated yesterday. Married to the complacency of the ordinary and wedded to the shackles of conformity while resisting all opportunity for growth, evolution and personal elevation. So many good souls among us are just so scared they refuse the call on their lives to go out into the blue ocean of possibility where mastery, the dignity of bravery and the authenticity of audacity await them. You had the wisdom to act on some of the information I shared at my event. You’re one in a tiny minority of people alive today willing to do what it takes to become a better leader, producer and human being. Good on you. And I know transformation isn’t an easy play. Yet, the life of the caterpillar must end for the glory of the butterfly to shine. The old ‘you’ must die before the best ‘you’ can be born. You’re so smart not to wait until you have ideal conditions to step up to a work world and private life of stainless excellence. Great power is unleashed with a simple start. When you begin to close the loop opened by your utmost aspirations by making them real, a secret heroic force within you makes itself known. Nature notices your effortful actions and then goes ahead and replies to your faithful commitment with a series of unanticipated wins. Your willpower heightens. Your confidence climbs. And your brilliance soars. A year from now, you’ll be so happy you began today.”

      “Thank you,” said the entrepreneur.

      “I heard a man say he needed to lose weight before he could start running. Imagine that. Lose the weight so he could initiate the running habit. That’s like a writer who waits for inspiration to begin the book, or the manager who waits for a promotion to lead the field,