Movement is Life

Every time I see the movie, World War Z, I am struck by the scene in which Brad Pitt’s character implores a small family to join his own in escaping the zombies. “Movement is life,” he says, pleading with them to go. He leads his own family away and they survive. The other family stays and dies. 

World War Z was on again tonight and I thought, I should write about that line, “movement is life” and then remembered that I already had, last June. I also thought it was timely that just yesterday I wrote about how “winter” can lull us into stagnancy, getting stuck rather than getting ready. Here’s what I wrote in June. Please take heed: the zombies are closer than you think!


You’re not stuck. You’re just not moving. It’s a choice.

We know that physical movement is essential for a healthy life. And the evidence is mounting that short bursts of activity are just as valuable, sometimes even more so, than long workouts.

The same goes for your project, book, program, idea, concept or initiative.

Its viability over time is wholly dependent on you breathing life into some piece of it, some small piece.

You will never create a facsimile of what’s in your imagination. It just doesn’t work that way. But what it does become may just delight and inspire you in ways you can not predict. The sooner you get moving, the sooner you’ll find out.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world

Right now, under your feet

Under the winter sun, beneath the cold, hardened ground, spring is already hard at work, getting ready, ready, ready to grow.

It is our responsibility to stay present to the lessons and possibilities of the current season while also preparing for the one that is to come.

“Winter” officially began just one week ago and reminds us to come back to ourselves, to conserve, to evaluate. It is an active rest, not a stagnant one.

The roots of the trees are busily storing water and nutrients for what’s to come. If not, there is no spring.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.

My attempt to interpret this poem

A Ritual to Read to Each Other

By William Stafford

If you don’t know the kind of person I am
and I don’t know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

We have to get our act together on this self-knowledge thing or else we’re going to get lost chasing someone else’s ideas about who and what we are.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dike.

All that old stuff we haven’t dealt with, all those old ways we are used to being, aren’t much good for us anymore.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant’s tail,
but if one wanders the circus won’t find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

We can keep going in the circles of our ignorance or we can finally break the cycle and be brave enough, kind enough to name what is true.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

Even though I don’t and can’t fully understand it I am asking for help to be real, to be open, so that I have the best chance of being found, of being seen, as I am.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

I desperately want to shut down, to go away, to go to sleep…but I know that if I help you and you help me we can stay awake right until dawn, and maybe even a little after, and that by doing so we can avoid the easy deceptions, the counterfeit connections that keep us from being who we really are, alone and together.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.

Again, and again, and again

It is not because you do not know the truth that I write to you, but because you know it already.
– 1 John 2:21

People need to be reminded more often than they need to be instructed.
– 
Samuel Johnson


I am not writing this piece for you, I am writing it for me.

I am not trying – though it often sounds that way, I’m sure – to convince you of anything, to make you change anything, to swing your vote to my side.

It is through writing that I remember what I care about, why I care about it and what I need to do every day to live out those beliefs.

I care about self-knowledge and personal accountability for acting on that self-knowledge as consistently as possible.

I care about building relationships that are based on love more than fear, respect more than intimidation, and open-hearted vulnerability.

I care about learning, the relentless exploration of the frontiers to which each of us is called.

Every time I write I am inviting myself back to those three themes, checking on my integrity, exploring my commitment. Every day I bake a new cake of those beliefs, combining the ingredients once more to find out if I have them in the right proportion, to see again if I am living out what I so easily espouse.

If what I put down moves or shifts your point of view in any way, that’s the frosting, but I am not concerned with that.

I am concerned with the cake. If it’s not right, nothing else matters.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.

The Afterglow

There’s always a day after the big event or celebration.

That day usually includes a heavy dose of afterglow; what we did, how we did it, what it meant, what we think.

That day can also be thought of as “today,” with a heavy dose of right now; what we will do, how and why.

I understand and appreciate a romantic view of the past, even the immediate past, but I am less patient with it now.

I am interested in today. What will we do with who we’ve become, what we’ve gathered, what we’ve learned?

What will we do with all of that today?


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.

Move toward aliveness

“…anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.”

– from “Sweet Darkness” by David Whyte


Move toward aliveness, in all ways and at all times. It’s the only way to stay present, to stay vital, to stay engaged, to stay young…in mind, heart and body.

We are pulled, pulled, pulled to the middle…miles from the edge of our experience. The edge of our experience is where aliveness lives.

It waits for us like a loyal dog, wagging with exuberance when we come into view, jumping into our laps with only possibility on its mind. It begs us to step out, once again, into the field of play.

When we decline, it curls into a ball at our feet, resigned to our disinterest, ready for another try tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.

Move toward aliveness, in all ways and at all times.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.

Become a better waterskier

This is my favorite passage from one of my favorite books, Orbiting the Giant Hairballby Gordon MacKenzie. We talk and write and speak so much about powerful leading that we fail to talk enough about powerful following. Here’s the best description of that I have yet to come across: 

If we were to think of waterskiing as a metaphor for leading and following, the person at the wheel, in the boat, dry, would represent the leader. And the skier in the water, wet, would be the follower.

Wherever the leader goes, the follower goes. If, for reasons unknown to the follower, the leader decides to steer the boat through an area where clusters of reeds are growing up out of the water, about three feet tall, the reaction of the follower might be:

“Why are we goin’ over there?”

“This is gonna hurt.

“And it’s gonna hurt me, not you!”

If you are a skier in this situation, you have at least a couple of options other than being whipped painfully through the reeds.

Option #1:
You can let go of the towline. Become an entrepreneur – on your own, in the middle of the lake.

Option #2:
You can become a better waterskier. Learn to ski out beyond the confines of the boat’s wake, way ’round to the right, thus dodging some of the threatening reeds. Then, describing a great, broad arc, ski back over the wake, over the wake again and way ’round to the left, avoiding more reeds.

Every point on the arc is a point of legitimate following.

My last boss at Hallmark, a fellow by the name of Bob Kipp, sat at the wheels of one of the corporate speedboats. I was at the end of a towline on waterskis. We spent our time together skimming across great Lake Hallmark. Kipp was so sure of who he was and why he was where he was and where the power was that he was not threatened at all when I would ski around in a wide arc until I was up even with the boat and sometimes even past it. He knew I was not going to start pulling the boat with him in it. It just doesn’t work that way. The power remains in the boat. But, in allowing me to ski past him – in a sense, allowing me to lead – he would unleash in me an excitement about our enterprise that served our shared goals well.

If you are in a position of power and want to lead well, remember:

Allow those you lead…

To lead…when they feel the need.

All will benefit.

– from Orbiting the Giant Hairballby Gordon MacKenzie.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.

 

Confirming Humanity

In further evidence of my idealism, or perhaps my (un)realism, I subscribed to another email newsletter, this one promising encouragement and inspiration for the transition from this year to next.

Once I hit ‘subscribe’ I was taken to the “Confirming Humanity” page, that now familiar landing-place where the computers filter out other computers in favor of humankind.

Having satisfied the computer’s request for said confirmation, I thought about every other real-life, in the moment opportunity I have to confirm my humanity. And I thought about how routine it is for the computers to ask that of me but how often I forget to ask that of myself.

It seems that the computer programmers built a function that obeys the basic laws software architecture: when this button is hit, this confirmation is requested.

It would be tempting to observe, given my occasional faulty outputs, that my programmer wasn’t nearly as reliable. Of course, that’s not the case. I have been programmed for “FULL HUMAN CONSIDERATION,” also known as “LOVE.” It’s just that my programmer included a ‘kill switch’ called selfishness, defensiveness and avoidance of potential future pain.

It’s funny that this was included since it seems so blatantly oppositional to my primary programming mode of LOVING CONSIDERATION, aka CONFIRMATION OF HUMANITY. And then I remember, as I so often do, that once I’ve rebooted my system after another ‘kill switch’ moment, and the generosity of FULL HUMAN CONSIDERATION takes its place at the front-end of the algorithm, I feel better for having falling down and gotten back up again.

It seems that the programmers have given us forgiveness as well.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.

This is a Season

This is a season, not a permanent condition.

Just because the sewage pipe split due to 25 years of attack from palm tree roots and allowed waste to flow backwards into our downstairs bathtub last spring;

And just because both the heater and air conditioning had to be replaced this summer;

And just because our dishwasher leaked A LOT and caused so much damage that half of our kitchen was “demoed” today, down to the studs;

None of it means that 2019 will be another year of domestic catastrophe. Sometimes, quite literally, shit happens.

This is just a season and it’s a season in which we have learned the true cost of being rich. Not wealthy but rich, in the sense of having far more than we need, the luxury of complaining about inconveniences and the ability to pay for them and get on with our lives. That kind of rich.

As simpler and wiser cultures know far better than ours, the more attached we are to conveniences, the less convenient life can sometimes be.

Here’s to a season of simplicity, perspective and appreciation. Here’s to a season of falling in love again with what matters most.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.

Love is in the Air

IMG_5859Southwest Airlines wants me to doodle on my napkin. They invited me, along with 141 passengers, to express myself as I see fit. Because they “LUV” me, of course!

Why this consistent, persistent, transparent emphasis on love? Why do they choose the heart as both the visual and visionary centerpiece of their corporate ethos?

The idealist might say it’s because the customer is the heart of their business. Or that, because human beings – especially 142 of them sitting shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh in a flying canister – value nothing more than to be seen, heard and understood, it’s an obvious, human-centric decision.

The cynic might say that if you are only going to offer open seating, peanuts and a tepid cup of coffee you’d better offset it with something a bit warmer, sincere or otherwise.

To crudely borrow from Karl Marx, maybe at the core of Southwest’s operating plan is a belief that love, no matter how it’s offered, is the “opiate of the masses.”

On the first leg of this trip, I witnessed a Southwest flight attendant publicly recognize a colleague’s achievement of having been chosen as the “face of the company” on their WiFi login page. He was genuine about it. She was clearly appreciative.

The instances of flight attendant repartee and the ad-libbing of otherwise tedious FAA announcements, as grating as they can sometimes be, are evidence of a humanness at the center of the enterprise. There’s a recognition of the value of creating an environment that emphasizes a “we’re all in this together” vibe accompanied by a nudge to not take it all so seriously.

Isn’t that right at the heart of what it means to love and be loved? For my part I recognize that my most loving  or “in love” relationships are the ones that remind me of my basic humanness. In other words, they help me keep my feet on the ground while simultaneously equipping me to fly.

That’s something that only love can do. And it’s what Southwest exists to do; to safely take us from the ground in this place to the ground in that place, with a sojourn through the miracle of flight along the way.

I fly Southwest at least once a month these days. My experiential/anecdotal “data set” has me convinced that they mean it. And that they mean to stick with it.

Just like love in all its forms, they don’t get it right all the time. And just like love in our relationships, it has to start within. That is to say, I can’t “love my neighbor” until I love myself.

If Southwest keeps loving, they will keep flying. And I’m onboard with that.


DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world. Connect with him on Twitter at @berrydavid.