The 5 am club

It was the one practice that changed—and elevated—every other
practice
. Researchers now call this kind of a core behavior that multiplies all
your other regular patterns of performing ‘a keystone habit.’ Wiring it in as a
profound neural pathway took some effort, a little suffering along the way and
the strongest commitment I had in me. I’ll be honest with you, there were
days during the process of automating this routine that I was cranky, days
when my head pounded like a jackhammer and mornings when I just wanted
to keep sleeping. But once I locked and loaded getting up at 5 
AM
regularly,
my days grew consistently—and vastly—better than anything I’ve ever
experienced.”
“How?” both listeners wondered aloud, in unison.
The entrepreneur touched one of her fingers on the artist’s arm
affectionately, as if to suggest they were together in this experience, that they
were now a team and that she had his best interests at heart. The artist locked
his eyes onto hers. A gentle grin emerged.
The billionaire went on: “In this time of exponential change,
overwhelming distractions and overflowing schedules, getting up at 5 
AM
and
running the morning regime The Spellbinder taught me was my antidote to
average. No more rushing in my morning! Imagine what that alone does for
the quality of your day. Starting your day luxuriating in the quietude only the
early morning provides. Beginning your day feeling strong and centered and
free. I found that my mind became dramatically more focused as the days

---

progressed. Every great performer, whether we’re talking about a
championship athlete, a top-tier executive, a celebrated architect or a revered
cellist, has developed the ability to concentrate on optimizing their particular
skill for long, uninterrupted periods of time. This capability is one of the
special factors that allows them to generate such high-quality results in a
world where too many people dilute their cognitive bandwidth and fragment
their attention, accepting poor performances and ordinary achievements while
leading lives of disappointing mediocrity.”
“I definitely agree,” indicated the artist. “It’s rare to see someone focus on
their art for many, many hours in a row these days. The Spellbinder was right
when at his session he called people addicted to their devices ‘cyber zombies.’
I see them every day. It’s like they’re not real human beings anymore. More
like robots, glued to their screens. Not present. And half-alive to life.”
“I hear you,” said the billionaire. “Protection from distraction is precisely
how you need to work if you’re serious about dominating your field and
winning at your craft. Neuroscientists call this peak mental state we’re
speaking of, where our perception becomes heightened and our availability to
original ideas rises and we access an all-new level of processing power,
‘Flow.’ And rising at 5 
AM
promotes The Flow State gorgeously. Oh—and by
getting up at before daybreak, while almost everyone around you is asleep—
my creativity also soared, my energy definitely doubled, my productivity
surely tripled, my . . .”
“You’re serious?” the entrepreneur interrupted, unable to contain her
fascination with the idea that a simple shift toward a bespoke morning routine
could reorder a human life so completely.
“Absolutely. Honesty has been one of my core convictions for all my
years in business. Nothing beats going to sleep early each night with an
unspoiled conscience and a mess-free heart. That’s part of my farm boy
nature, I guess,” observed the billionaire.
Abruptly, the entrepreneur’s phone signaled the arrival of an urgent
incoming message. “So sorry. I told my team not to call me here. I was clear
with them. I can’t imagine why they’re bothering me now,” she said as she
looked down at the screen.
In all caps, the following stark words appeared:
LEAVE THE COMPANY. OR ELSE YOU DIE.
The entrepreneur fumbled with her phone. Then she accidentally dropped
it into the sand. Soon she was gasping for air.
“What happened?” the artist asked quickly, sensing trouble.

---

Seeing the blood wash out of his friend’s face and her hands trembling, he
repeated with greater intensity and even higher empathy, “What happened?”
The billionaire also appeared concerned. “Are you okay? Do you need
some water or something?”
“I just received a death threat. From . . . um . . . my . . . investors. They
want my firm. They are . . . um . . . trying to kick me out because they think I
have too big a share. They just told me that if I don’t walk away they’ll—um
—kill me.”
Instantly, the billionaire ripped off the sunglasses he was sporting and held
them in the air, making a circling movement. Seconds later, from behind a
flourish of palm trees, two large men with earpieces and rifles sprinted down
to the beachfront as fast as a cyclist on steroids.
“Boss, you all right?” the tallest of the two big men asked tensely.
“Yes,” came the confident and calm reply to his security detail. “But I
need you two to check this out immediately—if it’s cool for me to do this for
you,” he said as he looked at the entrepreneur. “I can help you make this go
away.”
The billionaire then muttered something to himself. And a flight of doves
soared by.
“Sure. Yes. I’d appreciate some help,” the businesswoman replied, her
voice still shaking and pearls of perspiration appearing on her forehead, in the
area where all those creases were.
“Leave this with us,” declared the billionaire. He then spoke to his
protection people, politely yet with an undeniable air of authority. “Seems my
guest here is being seriously harassed by some thugs hoping to take over her
enterprise. Please figure out exactly what they’re up to and then present me
with your solution.”
“Don’t worry,” he told the entrepreneur. “My guys are the best in the
business.