“Early in the morning, when you are reluctant in your laziness to get up, let this thought be at hand: ‘I am rising to do the work of a human being.’” —Marcus Aurelius, Roman emperor
“Rome is in my veins. Its energy courses through my blood. And its unique type of magic resets my spirit,” thought the billionaire as his jet taxied along the tarmac of that city’s private airport. The song “Magnolia” by Italian music group Negrita pulsed through the speakers of the aircraft as the tycoon swayed his taut shoulders to the beat.
“The fierce pride, fantastic passions and glorious hearts of the Romans inspire me so much,” he affirmed to himself. “The way the light falls on Trinità dei Monti, the church that crowns the Spanish Steps, never fails to lift my soul—
and often brings tears into my eyes. The exquisite food, including the mozzarella di bufala, cacio e pepe, amatriciana and carbonara along with the fire-cooked abbacchio, feeds my desire to maximize the enjoyment of my life. And the painstakingly handcrafted architecture in this open-air museum of a city, where I love to walk in the rain, speaks to both the warrior as well as the poet within me,” the magnate reflected as his jet neared the gate.
The billionaire had spent many of the finest years of his fantastic though far from perfect life in Rome, staying at an apartment in the historical center on Via Vittoria. Zurich and his other homes were the places he’d go mostly to work on projects and manage his global commercial pursuits. But Rome, well, Rome was to fuel his sense of awe. And to nourish his appetite for joy.
Inhaling the fragrance of gardenias at springtime and taking long treks past the temple that sits at the lake in the park called Villa Borghese were two of his favorite things in life. Rising at 5 AM, before Rome’s dense traffic could stifle some of its magnificence, and riding his mountain bike past the Trevi Fountain, up to Monti and by the Colosseum, and finally over to Piazza Navona to just sit and embrace the marvelousness of the church in that exalted square, reminded him of the brilliance that only early morning brings. Much more than his wealth,
such experiences made him feel prosperous. And alive.
You should know that the greatest love of his life hailed from Rome. The billionaire met her in an English bookstore just off Via dei Condotti, the fabulous street where Italy’s iconic fashion houses have their flagship stores. Though he was in his late thirties, the titan was still a bachelor at that first encounter, something of a playboy and a man known for his taste in the finer pleasures of the world. He still remembered the book he sought her help to find: Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach, that wonderfully transformational novel about a seagull who knew he was made to fly higher than the flock and embarked on an unforgettable journey to make that inner knowing real.
Vanessa put her hands on a copy quickly, was exceedingly polite yet frustratingly aloof and then moved on to help another customer.
It took the billionaire over a year of visiting that cramped bookshop with books arranged on old wooden shelves that lined the timeworn walls for this young woman to agree to have dinner with him. The billionaire’s quest was driven by her under-the-radar kind of beauty, her ardent intelligence, her bohemian personal style and her awkward laugh that made him feel as happy as a family of bees in a huge honey pot.
They were married in the enchanting seaside town of Monopoli, in the southern Italian region of Puglia.
“What a special day that was,” the baron mused wistfully. “The music that rang through the main square as we all danced with wild abandon under the melting glow of a full moon. The farm-fresh burrata cheese, the orecchiette pasta made by the chef’s grandmother. The townspeople joining the lively party, displaying their boundless Italian hospitality by bringing bottles of homemade Negroamaro and Primitivo wine as wedding gifts. The whole experience still touched him considerably.
The billionaire’s relationship with Vanessa had been both sensational and volatile, as in many epic love stories. Sometimes—often, actually—intense romantic connection raises deep-rooted pain. With that special person, we finally feel safe to take off our social armor and show our truest selves. And so, they get to see us in the fullness of our wonder, passion and light. Yet, that also brings intense glimpses of the shadow side we all have, the side that develops from the hurts we’ve had, as we’ve lived.
In The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran wrote, “When love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. All these things shall love do unto you so that you may know the secrets of your heart.” Yet, despite the turbulent nature of their
marriage, the billionaire and his statuesque wife made it work, for decades.
Though she had passed away suddenly many years earlier, he never remarried. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall in love again, preferring to concentrate on growing his business empire, expanding his philanthropic pursuits and enjoying the genuinely lovely life he’d earned, alone.
The mogul took out his wallet and slowly removed a creased photograph of Vanessa. He stared at it, transfixed by the image. Then he started coughing again. Vigorously.
“You okay, Boss?” inquired one of the pilots from the cockpit.
The billionaire remained silent, looking at the photo.
The entrepreneur and the artist had flown to Rome a few days earlier and had been mesmerized by the sights, splendor and rarities of The Eternal City. With hands locked together, taking in the energy and beauty of Rome, they traversed the cobblestone streets previously walked by great builders and noble emperors.
Today was the day they had waited a long time for. This morning they’d learn The 20/20/20 Formula that rested at the core of The 5 AM Method. The two students would be taught, with granularity, precisely what to do within The Victory Hour, that window of opportunity that runs between 5 and 6 AM, so they’d consistently enjoy amazing days.
Today they would discover, in intimate detail, how to use their mornings well, to create a world-class existence.
As requested by the billionaire, the two stood at the very top of the Spanish Steps. It was precisely 5 AM. If you stood on the platform under the obelisk that’s there and looked down to the steps beneath it, you’d see the exact spot where the mentor and his two students met on this morning.
The first rays of the Roman sun kissed Trinità dei Monti as the lovers looked out over this city of such culture. The early Romans were remarkable for the grandeur of their visions, for the scale of their buildings and for their otherworldly ability to construct monuments that betrayed engineering reality.
The two of them could see St. Peter’s Basilica and the tomb of Emperor Augustus, as well as the Seven Hills that were so central to the protection of the empire that began as a tiny village on the banks of the Tiber River—and grew to what now included forty different countries spanning Europe, Asia and Africa.
The air was fragrant with a blend of floral notes and smokiness, as if a fire were burning in the far distance.
“Buongiorno!” cried a voice amid the tranquility. “Own your morning.
Elevate your life,” the billionaire shouted with the kind of enthusiasm you’d hear from Roman soldiers on achieving a crucial victory.
Mr. Riley walked into the first embers of the lightfall, smiling a man in the
magic of life type of smile. He had chosen to wear a pair of chic Italian sunglasses for this all-important coaching session. He also wore an Italian windbreaker over a black t-shirt with the initials SPQR emblazoned on it, black sweatpants and orange running shoes.
“Tutto bene?” he asked cheerfully.
“We’re good,” said the entrepreneur, happily, understanding a few words of Italian.
“Really good,” offered the artist.
“Big day, cats. Today’s lesson, to be taught to you by me—your cheese- gulping tonnarelli pasta–gobbling mentor—is all about The 20/20/20 Formula.
We’re finally here. We’re finally ready to calibrate your morning routine so you both materialize your promise for genius and lead a life of limitless joyfulness.
You’ll so love what you’re about to hear. The rest of your life will never be the same,” the illustrious industrialist declared.
As the sun slowly ascended, for the first time a tattoo could be seen on the back of the billionaire’s left hand. It had numbers on it. They simply read
“20/20/20.”
The rays of light congregated over his head to give the appearance of a halo.
The entire scene was ethereal. You would have been impressed.
“Is that new?” wondered the artist, showing a clear curiosity. “Didn’t notice it before.”
“Yep,” responded the tycoon. “I had someone in Trastevere do it for me last night. Cool, right?” spoke the billionaire, appearing as innocent as a newborn.
“Sort of,” pronounced the artist as he let out a monstrous yawn, then sipped from a takeaway cup of coffee. “Great coffee here in Italy,” he added.
“Well, the tattoo is temporary,” admitted the billionaire. “I got it because today’s The 20/20/20 Formula day. It really is one of the most important of all our training days together. I feel blessed to be here with you two. I’m starting to feel we’re family now. And to be back in Rome is so incredibly special. I stopped coming here after my wife, Vanessa, passed away. Just hurt too much to be here without her,” he confessed, before looking away.
Stone Riley then dug into a pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a wishbone. He carefully placed the object on one of the steps that had a series of mysterious drawings on it. Just so you know what it looked like, it looked like this:
The billionaire asked his two guests to make a wish, before instructing them to pull it apart as a sign of good luck.
“I brought this to our session this morning not only to create even more great vibes for you cats,” continued the billionaire. “I also want you both to remember that a wishbone without a backbone doesn’t really get you very far,” he explained.
“Sort of the ‘part-time commitment delivers part-time results’ insight we learned earlier?” queried the artist.
“And the ‘no idea works without doing the work’ insight,” reinforced the entrepreneur as she did a yoga stretch into the increasing sun.
“Sort of,” replied the billionaire. “I know you both long to lead productive, excellent, happy and meaningful lives. Being a member of The 5 AM Club truly is the one habit—of all possible habits—that will guarantee this mighty ambition comes true. It’s the single-finest practice I’ve ever encountered to translate the intentions of living gloriously into an everyday reality. Yes, dreams and desires are just wishbones. Rising before daybreak is your backbone to get them done.
“The power of getting up early really comes from the daily application of The 20/20/20 Formula,” the magnate continued. “And you’re now just a few seconds away from being exposed to this astonishingly potent morning routine.”
“It really is about time!” said the artist as he put on his own green-lensed sunglasses to shield his eyes from the light which was now beginning to wash into the empty spaces around the Spanish Steps and down onto the cobblestoned square that features a famous fountain built around Bernini’s sculpture of an old boat.
“Give me a hug before we get going, people!” bellowed the billionaire affectionately as he embraced the artist and entrepreneur. “Welcome to my beloved Roma!” he added as the song “Come un Pittore” by the group Modà
began to play from an open window of a nearby apartment. A curtain hung out of it, flirting with the soft breeze.
“Okay. Let’s rock this piece. Please know that your creativity, productivity, prosperity, performance and usefulness to the world as well as the quality of your private life won’t transform by simply rising at 5 AM alone. It’s not just rising early that makes this regime so powerful. It’s what you do over the sixty minutes after you wake up that makes The 5 AM Club so game-changing.
Remember this: your Victory Hour gives you one of life’s greatest windows of opportunity. As you now know, the way you start your day dramatically influences how it unfolds. Some people get up early but destroy the value of their morning routine by watching the news, surfing online, scanning social feeds and checking messages. I’m sure you both understand that such behavior comes from the need for a quick pleasure rush of dopamine—an escape from what is truly important. This way of acting causes members of the majority to miss out on doing the things that would allow them to leverage the quietude of this special time to help them maximize greatness so awesome days show up consistently.”
“And as we create each day, so we craft our life, right?” asserted the artist, confirming a key piece of information he’d learned on the beach of the billionaire’s oceanfront compound. “That’s The Day Stacking Foundation. And it’s one of The 4 Focuses of History-Makers that you explained to us. I still remember that model.”
“Absolutely correct,” applauded the billionaire. “And I need to say that beginning your day intelligently, healthily and peacefully isn’t only about optimizing your public and private success. It’s also about protecting it.”
Suddenly, a man driving a horse carriage and dressed as a gladiator rolled through the square known as Piazza di Spagna and shouted, “Buongiorno Mr.
Riley,” and then continued on his way.
“A dopo,” replied the billionaire loud enough for the man to hear. “Gnarly costume, right?” he said to his students.
The billionaire rubbed his fake tattoo and looked toward the Colosseum.
“That man we just saw makes me think of the Auriga, a type of slave in ancient Rome, who would transport important Roman leaders and was chosen for his trustworthiness. Here’s the neat thing: another key job of the Auriga was to stand behind the military general known as the ‘Dux’ and whisper the words
‘Memento, homo’ carefully into his ear as he placed the laurel crown on his head.”
“What does that mean?” asked the entrepreneur. Today she’d dressed in faded jeans, a bright red t-shirt with a V-neck and white running shoes. Her hair
was styled in the ponytail that she liked. She had her bracelets on. And she absolutely radiated optimism.
“‘Memento homo’ is Latin for ‘remember you are only a man,’” the billionaire answered. “The Auriga did this to keep the leader’s arrogance in check and to help the leader manage the inevitable invitation to egotism that all great success inescapably brings. The ritual was a profound discipline to ensure the Dux remained monomaniacally focused on his true mission of making himself, and the empire he ruled, even better—and not diluting all his energies on the amusements and excess that cause dynasties to fall.”
“You know what?” indicated the artist. “I’ve seen some artistic geniuses blow up their creative empires and destroy their good reputations because they didn’t manage their success properly. So, I hear you.”
“Def,” said the entrepreneur. “I mean, definitely,” she quickly corrected as she clasped the hand of her new boyfriend. “I’ve seen so many rocketship companies lose their market share because they fell in love with their winning formula. They lost their fire. They got bloated and cocky. They bought into the faulty belief that because there were long lineups for their excellent products, there would always be long lineups—even without iterating their goods, improving customer service and ensuring that every single employee continued to raise their leadership performance. So, I hear you, too, Mr. Riley.”
“Awesome,” was his one-word reply.
“As you apply The 20/20/20 Formula, always remember to keep improving the way you run it each morning. Stay hungry. Keep a white-belt mentality around it. Because nothing fails like success. Once you experience how transformational the practice is, it’ll be easy to start coasting—and maybe even neglecting—a few steps of the process.”
The billionaire touched an index finger down to one of the steps. He closed his eyes and quietly recited these words: “It’s time to stop being a fugitive from your highest self and accept membership into a new order of ability, bravery and understanding of the call on your lives to inspire humanity.”
He then walked across the stone platform atop the Spanish Steps and raised two fingers of his right hand to show the universal sign for peace. Next, he waved an arm in the direction of a man on a seat heating up chestnuts in Piazza di Spagna, near the foot of Via dei Condotti. The man wore a gray shirt that had wrinkles over the chest area, navy blue trousers and yellow running shoes.
On seeing the sign, the man immediately stood up and darted through the square, up the steps—three at a time—all the way to the peak, where the billionaire was stationed. He lifted his rumpled shirt, revealing a bulletproof vest
—and pulled out a laminated sheet of paper from beneath it.
“Here you go, Grande. Good to see you back in Roma, Boss.” The man spoke with a rich Italian accent and a voice as gritty as sandpaper.
“Grazie mille! Molto gentile, Adriano,” the billionaire said as he kissed the palm of a hand before extending it for a handshake.
“Adriano’s on my security team,” noted Mr. Riley while studying the page that had been presented to him. “He’s one of my best. He grew up in the town of Alba in the Piemonte region of this exceptional nation. You cats like tartufo?”
“What’s that?” queried the artist, looking a little confused by the scenario that had just played out.
“Truffles, baby!” enthused the billionaire. “My goodness, they taste incredible. On tagliolini pasta with melted butter drizzled over it. Or when grated over jiggly fried eggs. My, oh my, food of the emperors it is!” The billionaire’s eyes were as wide as a prairie while he imagined the meal he was describing. A razor thin line of drool meandered out of the right corner of his mouth. Yes, a line of drool. Beyond weird, right?
Adriano, who had remained in position, discreetly handed his employer a handkerchief. He looked at the entrepreneur and the artist with a glance that seemed to say, “I know he’s strange, but we love him, too.”
And then all four people perched upon that overwhelmingly alluring site started to laugh. Together.
“Have a great morning, Boss,” Adriano said as he prepared to leave. “I’ll meet you in Testaccio this evening. Thank you so much for inviting me to eat with you tonight. Are we eating cacio e pepe, as usual?”
“Si,” confirmed the billionaire. “A presto.”
“Alba is where white truffles come from,” explained the billionaire.
“Specially trained dogs sniff them out. Or pigs. Maybe in the future, I’ll take you guys on a truffle hunt with me. I promise you it’ll be unforgettable. Anyhoo, have a look at this fantastic learning model. The Spellbinder actually deconstructed The Victory Hour and The 20/20/20 Formula for us. Zero questions about how to run your morning routine now. No room for excuses. It’s all laid out for you. Just run the play and you’ll own your day. Procrastination is an act of self-hatred, you know?”
“Really?” asked the artist.
“Absolutely. If you really loved yourself, you’d relinquish all your feelings of not being good enough to be great and renounce all slavery to your weakness.
You’d stop focusing on your deficiencies and celebrate your amazing qualities.
Just think about it: there’s no person on the planet today who has the unique stack of gifts that you have. Actually, in all of history, there’s never been even one person exactly like you. And there never will be. Yes, you’re that special.