My Daily Bread

“Your output depends on your input.”
{Austin Kleon}

My morning ritual consists of coffee, reading and exercise, in that order. I have found that each is an ideal partner and precursor to the one that follows. Coffee keeps me alert to my reading, reading exercises my mind, opening it to new ideas and questions, and exercise awakens my body, providing time and space to process those questions and form new insights.

Each day I create space to do two kinds of reading. The first is to focus on the short form writing that arrives in my inbox each day. These pieces come from writers who, like me, publish daily content. I value their consistency and the rhythm that emerges from their commitment to a daily offering. Here are the ones I have come to depend on:

Author and teacher, Molly Davis, is a keen observer of herself in relationship to the world around her. She deftly uses her personal experience to reveal what is fragile and fundamental to our shared human existence.

Bishop Robert Barron provides insight on the gospel reading of the day. These reflections deepen both my understanding and my faith. They keep me grounded in the “here and now” truth that the gospels are a call to action.

Seth Godin is a “leading voice on everything from effective marketing and leadership, to the spread of ideas and changing everything.” I value his diverse perspectives and his care for the realization of human potential.

Richard Rohr is an extraordinary voice of applicable spiritual wisdom. He teaches me each day to live “on the edge of the inside” which means that if you are to bring meaningful change to any institution you must know it deeply before you can shepherd it to a better version of itself.

The second kind of reading I work into my morning is more traditional, those long form pieces we call books! More on that later. For now, I hope that you will choose to discover these daily authors for yourself or perhaps take a moment to share some of your own sources of daily insight and wisdom.

photo of a hand holding out a steaming cup

Photo by Edward Eyer on



On May 14, 2007 I uploaded my first blog post. It was this poem – The Journey – by Mary Oliver:

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Today, over eleven short years later, you are reading post #500.

As the poem concludes, I started writing in this space “determined to do the only thing I could do – determined to save the only life I could save.”

What that meant then is that I was desperate to unlock my capacity to express myself on the issues, ideas and opportunities that matter to me most. To that point and for a long time after, it felt like too big a risk to be thought of as a fraud or a phony; a poor writer with poor ideas and a poor ability to share them. That’s what my merciless voice in the head had to say about it, anyway.

These days I write less to conquer demons and more to help me think. As a daily discipline it has both a meditative quality as well as a purposeful intent. The discipline is to stop long enough to germinate a thought and turn that thought into something I want to say. The meditative quality is that I don’t know where it will lead but I trust that it will be somewhere good, or at least good enough. And the purpose is that I want to be a catalyst; that I have a responsibility to push myself and others to start and sustain conversations that matter about leadership, change and the rough road to self-awareness.

Of course, there’s an ego component as well. I wonder who is reading or not; why or why not. I relish the thoughtful comments, questions and encouragement that come my way, brief reminders that something has landed, a nudge to keep going.

But even that satisfaction has taken a back seat to the value I gain, personally and intimately, from simply thinking onto the page.

I am no longer vexed by the inner demons. I no longer feel a sense of “should” or “have to.” Today, I write because it makes me a better person, in the way that any daily practice of stopping, thinking, and expressing will do.

To paraphrase Seth Godin, whose encouragement inspires me to continue, we will never have more freedom – to express, to create, to build, to disrupt, to connect – than we do right now. Might as well take advantage of it.

And so I will. Thank you for reading.

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.

Lost With a Map

Whidbey MapSeth Godin published a brief, excellent piece this morning called The Thing About Maps:

“Sometimes, when we’re lost, we refuse a map, even when offered. 

Because the map reminds us that we made a mistake. That we were wrong.

But without a map, we’re not just wrong, but we’re also still lost.

A map doesn’t automatically get you home, but it will probably make you less lost. 

(When dealing with the unknown, it’s difficult to admit that there might not be a map. In those cases, a compass is essential, a way to remind yourself of your true north…)”

His writing took me back to a series of October mornings in 2014 which I wrote about in the early pages of my bookA More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of ChangeI hope you enjoy this excerpt and that it inspires a bigger conversation about how you navigate the unknown.


For just a moment, I considered staying in bed. It was 6:15 a.m. and my commitment to getting out for an early hike was being tested by the darkness of the hour. A peek out the window had me convinced it was the dead of night and the thrumming rain only strengthened my impulse to hunker down for a little more sleep.

I was in a cabin on the grounds of the Whidbey Institute in Washington State, a property crisscrossed by forest paths I had first seen in the light of day the previous afternoon. During that well-lit walk in the woods, I realized with satisfaction that the trails would provide an ideal way for me to get some exercise each morning of the leadership conference that I had traveled here to attend.

But once I’m up, I’m up. And I can be a stubborn guy when it comes to changing my plans. Dismissing the darkness, the rain, and my embarrassingly limited knowledge about the property, I got ready to go.

A trail map in one pocket and a small flashlight in hand, I headed down the lane with my usual confidence and a focus on completion. I might as well have taken along a candle and a fortune cookie, so closed-off was I to any form of help. With huge drops of water tumbling from the pine trees above and mud squishing under my heels, I was enthralled by the moment and blind to my arrogance. I had concluded in reviewing the trail map that by navigating the intersecting trails in just the right way I could construct a three-mile loop that would maximize the uphill climbs. It was this loop I was seeking as I crashed into the darkness, assuming that what made sense on paper would materialize before my eyes. It did not, and I got lost. Again and again I was forced to stop, frustrated and breathless, so that I could reorient to the path. I did not complete the route I set out to do. I was lucky to get back in time for breakfast.

On the second morning, I was smarter but no wiser. I was not ready to do the essential thing required of walking in this unknown forest in the darkness: to slow down and notice. I would not let go of my head’s agenda, still believing that I could just figure it out along the way. I backtracked multiple times, misread the map, and found myself at the end of a trail in an open field next to a school. It was one of many recalculations that only took me farther off course.

On the third day, in what I believed was my growing humility, I committed to a different approach. I took the flashlight along but left the trail map in my room. I reasoned that this would leave me no choice but to rely on presence. I would have to notice what was around and available to me at a given moment. I would have to slow down to see the trail markers and to recognize aspects of the landscape I had seen before and could use for guidance.

I got lost again.

This time, I was incredulous. Although I had good intentions, my actual choices did not back them up. I wanted to slow down, but I just wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t let go of my head’s need for completion and achievement. As I contemplated the perilously steep incline of my learning curve, I shuddered to think how a fourth encounter would have gone. My saving grace was the reality of scheduling and a return flight home.

I like to think I would have finally “discovered” the forest in the way that it was so patiently waiting for me to do. I like to think I would have taken care with my time and energy to assess and clarify the best path. Perhaps in a few days (weeks?) something would have shifted. Some new awareness born of the repetition of my obstinacy might have emerged, and little by little I might have started to learn. Perhaps.

I recognize that this kind of insistence – a stubborn refusal to accept the reality of my circumstances – says an awful lot about my particular makeup. I also know that I am not alone in this. What I see, as those who are most afflicted are best equipped to do, is a raft of leaders continuing to do things that no longer make sense. We are operating under radically different conditions than we are used to and we are ignoring the resources at our disposal. We are acting more like heroes on whose shoulders all responsibility must fall rather than like learners who are vigilant in their curiosity.

Doing the same thing, only faster, is an insufficient response to complexity and change. We have to make a different choice in the face of the unknown. We may, finally, just have to stop and get our bearings, about as radical a thing we can do in a world that is constantly on “go.” Coming to a standstill has a way of getting our attention in a new way. What might happen if we stopped long enough and frequently enough to get a deeper understanding of ourselves?

What might happen if we made just enough space for a new conversation about why we are so insistent on continuing down paths that no longer serve us?

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.

The Blessing is Outside Your Comfort Zone

The title of this post is taken from an OnBeing interview with Ashley Hicks, co-founder of Black Girls RUN!. Buying new running shoes for her second marathon she tells the salesman that she is nervous and concerned about the upcoming race. In response he says, “Yeah, the best thing for you to remember is that the blessing is outside of your comfort zone.”

She continues, “Whenever I’m challenging myself to something new, I keep saying that. The blessing really is outside of your comfort zone. If you stay and do what you’re comfortable with you’ll never experience something new and incredible.”

When I agreed to teach undergraduate business school students last fall I found myself on a new edge, one that had me both frightened and energized. I have given hundreds of talks and facilitated at least as many classes, the longest of which was three days long. A semester’s worth of preparation and impact with something as important as a grade attached to it was brand new territory and I was concerned that I had the ability to sustain it. That concern was baseless. It came from my lizard brain and threatened to sabotage an experience that I knew could be extraordinary.

And it was, because the blessing is outside my comfort zone.

Earlier this summer, I agreed to teach a new class for the same college this fall semester. My lizard brain’s reaction was swift and startling. Despite two consecutive semesters of successful classroom experiences my default reaction was to resist and doubt myself in the face of the unknown.

The edge of possibility, the threshold of growth and blessing, is always attended by a voice of doubt. If it isn’t then the edge is not an edge in the first place! It is not my job to conquer it, to arrive at some plateau of uber-confidence where I never feel the twinge of fear. My good work is to feel its presence and use it to remind me that on the other side of that feeling is the version of myself I most aspire to be.

Fear has no chance in the face of a blessing.

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.

How to Build Capability Before You Need It 

In Seth Godin’s blog today he writes:

“Often, organizations don’t realize that they’re falling down the abyss until extraordinary efforts are required to make a difference. But it’s always easier to fix it today than it will be tomorrow.”

Last year I wrote about this by sharing 10 recommendations for how to build capability before you need it. If ever there was “evergreen” subject matter, this is it.

Thanks for joining me on a trip into the archives!

Lead well.

Source: How to Build Capability Before You Need It | RULE13 Learning

Why I Am Optimistic About Leadership and Change

Another way I might have titled this post: “Why a recent concentration of articles and videos about the higher possibilities of the human experience represents a welcome increase in the quality of the conversation about inevitable change.”

The following material landed in my inbox within the last seven days. Given my professional interests and tendency to oversubscribe it’s not all that surprising that I would receive these things. What has my attention this week, however, is that the frequency and quality of the material is increasingly focused on reconnecting to the basic considerations of empathy, contribution, attention and the leadership responsibility to change ourselves before asking anyone else to change.

A bigger conversation is emerging. Let’s help to move it along.

From Harvard Business Review: The Internet is Finally Forcing Management to Care About People

From Insead Knowledge: Restoring Humanity to Leadership

From Tony Robbins: The Leader as Practical Psychologist (watch the 2-minute video)

From Seth Godin: Why Do You Do It This Way?

From David Foster Wallace: This is Water

DAVID BERRY is the founder of RULE13 Learning. He writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world, especially the parts where he doesn’t handle it very well. If you enjoyed this post someone else might, too. Please pass it along.

The Bigger Self

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” – William Shakespeare, Hamlet 

“It’s all invented anyway, so we might as well invent a story or a framework of meaning that enhances our quality of life and the life of those around us.” – Rosamund Stone Zander & Benjamin Zander from The Art of Possibility

Once in a while it helps to remember that it’s all invented. It’s easy to lose perspective, to get wrapped around the axle of circumstances and conditions that are completely made up in the first place. (Think of things like grades or performance reviews being valued OVER learning and contribution and you’ll be in the ballpark.)

There are two things I easily forget and I bet you do, too:

1) I’m a great storyteller. Human beings are gifted with this lightning fast limbic brain that puts emotion before reason. When emotion leads the way, justified by the insistent survival mechanisms of the brain stem (Seth Godin’s lizard brain) we masterfully create fictions too rich for publication. Dragged into the light of day they crumble to dust but in the fantasy factories of our minds they couldn’t be more real.

2) It’s not about me. The world is not waiting with bated breath for my next move. The people around me are not extras in the film production of my life. Everyone is fighting their own battle, making their own way. The sooner I get to an attitude – and supporting actions – of making it even the slightest bit easier for others to make their way, the sooner I will receive the support I need to do the same. It is the cosmic truth of the universe.

With a little practice – and the discipline of self-awareness – we can turn these common pitfalls to our advantage. The great storyteller can tell a new story. That means investigating our assumptions about what’s going on and shifting our thinking to the possibility of the new story that can take its place. As for the second one, we can start from a place of humility (literally, coming to ground) that is born of a commitment to create space for others rather than take it up for ourselves. The fact is, if it’s all about you and it’s all about me and it’s all about him and it’s all about her then, by default,   it must be all about…all of us.

Chances are, when it all starts to feel like too much, when the overwhelm is creeping in and the window of opportunity appears to be closing fast, that we are telling ourselves an old story. That story is based on old assumptions and rooted in our self-centeredness.

Each of us can live into the possibility of a bigger self. In a beautiful paradox, that bigger self emerges only when we redefine “bigger” in a way that isn’t quite so big.

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” – Viktor Frankl

Essential Listening

Not too long ago I shared a list of books – fiction primarily – that I have found to be essential reading in my development as a person, a leader and a teacher of leadership. Since then, to my great satisfaction, I have discovered the world of podcasts; the world of essential listening. It has been revelatory.

The channels by which we can learn today (and by learning I mean: inspire our creativity impulses, give us confidence to pursue our ideas, give us space to laugh, think, cry and connect more readily with the broadest context of our shared human condition) are so numerous and useful that it is both energizing and, sometimes, overwhelming to figure out how to take full advantage. As I attempted to make sense of all that is on offer in this “new” space of podcasting I was fortunate enough to stumble across a site called Podcast Thing. They organize their podcast recommendations by category and recommend a “where to start” episode for each one. In that spirit, a few recommendations for you:

For Meaning:

On Being with Krista Tippett

Where to start: Seth GodinParker Palmer

For Storytelling:

This American Life with Ira Glass

Where to start: Hit the Road

For Mindfulness and Meditation:

Tara Brach

Where to start: Four Week Introduction to Meditation

For Science and Education:


Where to start: The Golden Rule

For Politics, Culture and the Arts (and a fun “insider” vibe)

Here’s the Thing with Alec Baldwin

Where to start: Jerry SeinfeldGeorge WillDavid Letterman

A final thought: education is being revolutionized before our very eyes…it is not even remotely farfetched to think  that with a reasonable investment of time and energy you could create both a curriculum and a community that would make some of our more formal and traditional learning avenues obsolete, or at least seriously antiquated. If you want to create, define and engage your own path to learning there has never been a better time to do so.

Feedback? Thoughts? Recommendations from your experience? Always invited and eagerly accepted…

Getting to 30: The Pursuit of Clarity, Brevity and Meaning

“We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves.”

– Francois de La Rochefoucald – 

The last two weeks have presented me with the welcome challenge of getting clearer and more concise in sharing my message regarding the kind of leadership that leads to sustainable change. I gave a talk to a group of graduating seniors, business students eager for experience and application, and it went well enough but I can’t say I was elated about my efforts. The constructive feedback I received from the good friend who invited me to give the talk was that I was simply trying to do too much. It was a welcome confirmation of what I consistently notice about myself in those situations: my energy and passion for the subject is so high that I cram in as many ideas and angles as I possibly can. Part of that, of course, comes from not trusting that a simplified message, of course more powerful because more easy digested and more memorable, will not be sufficient to the task. That if I somehow manage to pare it down to its essence it will just not be enough. Rationally, I know this is a story but emotionally it’s a legitimate concern.

Fortunately I have two perfect opportunities in the coming few days to practice the power of clarity and brevity; a couple of 30 minute presentations that require me to deliver my essential message. This couldn’t have come at a better time because, a year into my adventure as an independent speaker and professional coach, it is obvious to me now what so many already understand: it is easier to say “yes” when you understand what you are saying “yes” to!

As this question and this process have been bubbling up and brewing within me I have been feeding it by taking in ideas and insights from a number of different sources: podcasts, articles, talks, fiction. Finally, with thanks to Krista Tippett’s program, “On Being” and her two outstanding interviews with Seth Godin and Parker Palmer, my thinking clarified and simplified.

Seth Godin reminded me that our shifting economy – and the shifting landscape within organizations – is less and less about the accumulation of “stuff” and more and more about opportunities for connection and meaning. The quote above and the others I have recently shared and written about all get to what I see as the essential leadership question of our time: in a connection economy doesn’t it make sense that we should have more connected leaders? And the leaders who are going to be more connected and connective are those who are not “disguised to themselves” or others; they are those who are willing to know themselves and be known.

Parker Palmer, in his interview, shared a framework developed by Marshall Ganz for organizing Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign for the presidency. In the two years prior to winning the White House the Obama Campaign organized a series of volunteer trainings called “Camp Obama.” The core of this effort was to teach and practice storytelling and it was done in this way:

1. Tell the STORY OF SELF: What is my heart connection with this work? The hopes of my heart that bring me to this place?

2. Tell the STORY OF US: How does the story of self connect to what is going on in the hearts of people in this society as I know them?

3. Tell the STORY OF NOW: What might be done in this moment that would help us advance our hopes?

As I heard this methodology described I felt for the first time a way forward in my efforts to create a personally compelling message that would withstand the limits of time and the challenge of trying to do too much. It is personal and therefore connective. It is inclusive and therefore energizing. It is an invitation and therefore an opportunity for others to rise to the occasion of our current challenge.

Most importantly, for me, it is a fresh way forward in the definition and delivery of what I care most about. I don’t have to share it all, just the part that earns me the right to continue the conversation.


Don’t Bite the Hook

IMG_0688Lately I have found myself collecting what I consider to be more meaningful and useful drive time material. This is, in part, thanks to a great blog post by Seth Godin, Can an audiobook change your life?, in which he relates the impact of listening to really useful non-fiction as a source of inspiration, motivation and, frankly, just good old fashioned brainwashing (the good kind). He began listening to “books on tape” when he was just starting out, allowing Zig Ziglar to wash over him continuously, supporting the fragile infrastructure of self-confidence and determination he was slowly, steadily turning into entrepreneurial success.

As I continue forward in my own new endeavor I find I am more open than ever before (please see my post on meditation for a really good example) to new ideas, frameworks and possibilities. (It’s really quite alarming to realize how “safety” and “certainty” work in opposition to new learning.) Finding myself in undiscovered country, “whatever it takes” has taken on a whole new meaning.

That said, I gobbled up Seth’s recommendations, starting with Pema Chodron‘s Don’t Bite the Hook. Chodron is an American Buddhist nun and the recording is a series of talks she gave during the course of a weekend retreat. It is truly a powerful teaching about our constant, all-too-human struggle with anger and resentment. Similar in many ways to David Foster Wallace‘s commencement address at Kenyon College in 2005, Chodron challenges us to remember that even though we can only see it from our perspective, the world does not operate from only our perspective and, regardless of who or what comes at us, we always have a choice in how we respond.

She encourages us to see the hook that is dangling in front of us, temptingly loaded up with more bait than we know what to do with, and begin to practice new ways of both seeing it and responding to it; challenging us to end the cycle of anger and hurt rather than perpetuating it with yet another open-mouthed, instinctive lunge.

I knew right away that this was a recording that my wife and I should be listening to together, certainly for the sake of our marriage but equally for the sake of our parenting.  Our kids walk around with an arsenal of very large hooks and it’s our job to not take the bait; to respond to their anger and frustration with patience, calmness and loving rationality (permission to insert cynical laughter here). To have any chance of that happening more often (like baseball, 3 out of 10 times would be really good!) we first have to practice more consistently with one another.  So we started. Small. We listened to a bit of the recording together and, as a result, have taken to liberally repeating the phrase, “Don’t bite the hook!,” when the pull to react and retaliate grows strong.

My daughter asked what it means and as I explained it was obvious that she understood right away. As you can see, she’s a natural.