Though we've got still three more months to enjoy 2011, my personal theme and takeaway from this year has already become clear to me. Namely, that deficit spending doesn't work for me. I am not speaking of financial mismanagement, debt ceilings or monetary policy of any kind. I am speaking of my attempts over the last 9 months to activate and extend my creative self at times when I did not possess the resources to do so.
What I have learned this year is that there is a line dividing my higher, creative self and my lower, surviving self. When I am operating below the line, it because I am I am in need of renewal, refreshment, restoration. When I am operating above the line I am capable of creativity, energy, extension.
The awareness I have gained is that I am not very gracious to myself when I am below the line and expect that I should be above it. Put another way, when I need to focus on renewal I need to focus on renewal; to focus on getting back to the line before I can again cross over it and above it.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
David Berry's Daily Questions
I have decided to conduct an experiment in personal accountability. In his book Mojo, Marshall Goldsmith outlines an incredibly simple exercise in which he creates a list of questions representative of the things he wants to be accountable for and then he enlisted a friend to ask him those questions every single day. It both sounds and feels draconian to me which is why it must be effective! I have created the following list and I have invited a friend to be my "questioner." (Here's hoping she says "yes"!)
1. How meaningful was your day? (1-10)
2. How well did you plan and execute your day? (1-10)
3. How much did you impact others by walking around today? (1-10)
4. Did you exercise?
5. Did you check your blood pressure?
6. How many drinks did you have?
7. How many minutes did you spend reading?
8. How many minutes did you spend writing?
9. Did you write and send a card to someone?
10. How many times did you feel or act angry/destructive/defensive?
11. Did you sit quietly to pray, meditate or breathe?
12. Did you say or do something nice for Theresa?
13. For Duncan, Avery and Davis?
I'm going to track my daily responses and find out how much these things really matter to me and how willing I am to actually do (or not do) them. I'll let you know how it goes...
1. How meaningful was your day? (1-10)
2. How well did you plan and execute your day? (1-10)
3. How much did you impact others by walking around today? (1-10)
4. Did you exercise?
5. Did you check your blood pressure?
6. How many drinks did you have?
7. How many minutes did you spend reading?
8. How many minutes did you spend writing?
9. Did you write and send a card to someone?
10. How many times did you feel or act angry/destructive/defensive?
11. Did you sit quietly to pray, meditate or breathe?
12. Did you say or do something nice for Theresa?
13. For Duncan, Avery and Davis?
I'm going to track my daily responses and find out how much these things really matter to me and how willing I am to actually do (or not do) them. I'll let you know how it goes...
Sunday, March 20, 2011
You're invited...Play to Lead
My growing fascination of the role of leadership in inspiring the creativity that leads to innovation has led me to create a new blog, Play to Lead. I imagine this new space as an outlet for my many questions on the changing role of leadership in an ever changing world. Specifically, I want to explore how playfulness, creativity and imagination are deeply ingrained in all of us yet often so easily muted by poor leadership and stagnant organizational culture. I hope to challenge traditional notions of leadership and inspire a new definition: one that emphasizes the responsibility to inspire creativity and activate the imagination.
I will continue to maintain "Specimen Life" for more personal posts and I invite you to maintain your subscription. And, if you are interested in joining me in, and contributing to, an exploration of playfulness and leadership and how they combine to create the conditions for innovation, please come to Play to Lead, subscribe to the new blog and join the conversation.
http://www.playtolead.com/
Thank you!
I will continue to maintain "Specimen Life" for more personal posts and I invite you to maintain your subscription. And, if you are interested in joining me in, and contributing to, an exploration of playfulness and leadership and how they combine to create the conditions for innovation, please come to Play to Lead, subscribe to the new blog and join the conversation.
http://www.playtolead.com/
Thank you!
Sunday, February 20, 2011
An American Life
My stepfather, William P. Clancey, Jr. died on January 26, 2011.
His story is so quintessentially "American" that I can only shake my head in disbelief that the fullness of his life was lived by just one man.
Born in the east he attended the Milton Academy for a short time before being shipped off to a reform school in New Mexico. From there he found his way to the University of Colorado but not before enlisting in the Marine Corps at 17 years old and serving in the South Pacific during World War II. He fought at Guadalcanal. He was offshore at Iwo Jima. He was in the flotilla during the signing of unconditional surrender on the USS Missouri. Just a few years ago, on the anniversary of the attack on Iwo Jima, this deeply private, soft-spoken man wept at the memory of the loss he witnessed, the destruction he carried with him, like so many others, for the rest of his days.
He returned home long enough to transfer from Colorado to Cal, the school that would hold his affection forever, only to find himself back at war a few years later, this time in Korea. He served with distinction, was honorably discharged at the rank of Captain and was finally able to get home and get his civilian life underway.
First, it was law. He graduated from Boalt Hall and served as an assistant district attorney in San Francisco. Then came a higher calling and W.P. Clancey, Esq became Rev. Clancey. He served at All Souls Parish in Berkeley in the 1960s and 70's and, once again, he was right in the middle of the action. His life was touched both by the Harvey Milk assassination and, more personally, by the Jonestown massacre, losing a family member in the mass suicide.
He lived out his vocation by answering the call to serve parishes all over the Bay Area. He was known as a "priest of priests," the list of those he mentored, encouraged and supported through the years far too long to mention.
He was incredibly smart but never put on heirs. Humble and focused, his was truly the "life of the mind and the heart of the gospel" to quote a Jesuit father I once knew. Most importantly, he was an unfailing servant. From his country to the law to every priest, parish and parishioner who called on him, Bill was there to do his part, to challenge and to support, to befriend and to console.
I most loved and respected his profound skepticism of authority, his commitment to remaining a "humble priest" rather than pursuing higher office in the church which would have pulled him away from those he had committed to serve.
As for my mother, he met her twice in his life. The first time was in the late 1960's when my dad brought him home from seminary to be my sister's Godfather. They met again about 10 years ago and in the reconnection began a courtship that would become a marriage, giving him a partner that would gently see him through the final battle of his life.
I am deeply grateful to have known this servant of men, this servant of God, if only for a few short years. His model and example will remain with me always as I strive to lead a life of and for others.
Thank you, Bill. May you rest in peace.
His story is so quintessentially "American" that I can only shake my head in disbelief that the fullness of his life was lived by just one man.
Born in the east he attended the Milton Academy for a short time before being shipped off to a reform school in New Mexico. From there he found his way to the University of Colorado but not before enlisting in the Marine Corps at 17 years old and serving in the South Pacific during World War II. He fought at Guadalcanal. He was offshore at Iwo Jima. He was in the flotilla during the signing of unconditional surrender on the USS Missouri. Just a few years ago, on the anniversary of the attack on Iwo Jima, this deeply private, soft-spoken man wept at the memory of the loss he witnessed, the destruction he carried with him, like so many others, for the rest of his days.
He returned home long enough to transfer from Colorado to Cal, the school that would hold his affection forever, only to find himself back at war a few years later, this time in Korea. He served with distinction, was honorably discharged at the rank of Captain and was finally able to get home and get his civilian life underway.
First, it was law. He graduated from Boalt Hall and served as an assistant district attorney in San Francisco. Then came a higher calling and W.P. Clancey, Esq became Rev. Clancey. He served at All Souls Parish in Berkeley in the 1960s and 70's and, once again, he was right in the middle of the action. His life was touched both by the Harvey Milk assassination and, more personally, by the Jonestown massacre, losing a family member in the mass suicide.
He lived out his vocation by answering the call to serve parishes all over the Bay Area. He was known as a "priest of priests," the list of those he mentored, encouraged and supported through the years far too long to mention.
He was incredibly smart but never put on heirs. Humble and focused, his was truly the "life of the mind and the heart of the gospel" to quote a Jesuit father I once knew. Most importantly, he was an unfailing servant. From his country to the law to every priest, parish and parishioner who called on him, Bill was there to do his part, to challenge and to support, to befriend and to console.
I most loved and respected his profound skepticism of authority, his commitment to remaining a "humble priest" rather than pursuing higher office in the church which would have pulled him away from those he had committed to serve.
As for my mother, he met her twice in his life. The first time was in the late 1960's when my dad brought him home from seminary to be my sister's Godfather. They met again about 10 years ago and in the reconnection began a courtship that would become a marriage, giving him a partner that would gently see him through the final battle of his life.
I am deeply grateful to have known this servant of men, this servant of God, if only for a few short years. His model and example will remain with me always as I strive to lead a life of and for others.
Thank you, Bill. May you rest in peace.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
"Are we not safer leading a more daring life?"
Christina Green, by all accounts a precocious and lovely 9-year-old girl in Tucson, Arizona, was gunned down yesterday in the attack on Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords.
Little girls should not be killed.
Little girls who have the courage to be the only girl on the Little League baseball team should not be killed.
Little girls who join student government should not be killed.
Little girls who are trying to learn, trying to satisfy their curiosity about a new interest, should not be killed.
Little girls who are born on 9/11, who are a ray of hope on a horrific day, should not be killed.
Little girls who are "A" students, who sing in the church choir, and who dream of being a veterinarian, should not be killed.
And yet, inexplicably, they are. She was.
From what I can tell, Christina Green lived "a more daring life." The question is, was she "safer" for doing so?
Would she be "safer" not playing a game she loved just because she had to put up with a bunch of boys? Would she be "safer" not getting involved in student council? Would she be "safer" not going to hear her Congresswoman; not pursuing her curiosity of public service?
No, of course not. Life is to be lived; fully, confidently, creatively and daringly. And I am confident, with the very little I know of Christina Green, that she would agree with me 100%.
The tragedy is that we will never know.
© 2010 David Berry
Little girls should not be killed.
Little girls who have the courage to be the only girl on the Little League baseball team should not be killed.
Little girls who join student government should not be killed.
Little girls who are trying to learn, trying to satisfy their curiosity about a new interest, should not be killed.
Little girls who are born on 9/11, who are a ray of hope on a horrific day, should not be killed.
Little girls who are "A" students, who sing in the church choir, and who dream of being a veterinarian, should not be killed.
And yet, inexplicably, they are. She was.
From what I can tell, Christina Green lived "a more daring life." The question is, was she "safer" for doing so?
Would she be "safer" not playing a game she loved just because she had to put up with a bunch of boys? Would she be "safer" not getting involved in student council? Would she be "safer" not going to hear her Congresswoman; not pursuing her curiosity of public service?
No, of course not. Life is to be lived; fully, confidently, creatively and daringly. And I am confident, with the very little I know of Christina Green, that she would agree with me 100%.
The tragedy is that we will never know.
© 2010 David Berry
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Did You Pack the Chains?
Our biennial trip to celebrate Christmas with my in-laws is a 738 mile, 13.5 hour trek covering almost the entire length of the state of California. Believe it or not, it's a journey we actually look forward to and enjoy. Hitting the road for a trip of this length is always an adventure, holding the promise of unplanned for experiences and at least one good feast at In-n-Out Burger.
The drive itself is pretty straightforward, much of it through the very flat, very straight Central Valley. There is, however, a fair bit of mountain driving - through the Angeles National forest in Southern California and a stunning stretch from Redding to Mt. Shasta in the northernmost part of the state. Given the intense weather that rolled down the west coast in late December I was concerned that our drive through these areas would be challenging at best, especially if temperatures dipped and snow started to fall.
Having grown up and lived nearly my entire life in Southern California the most interesting driving challenge I've faced is getting stuck in the sand at our favorite beach. So, it is always with some trepidation that I consider having to drive on slushy, slippery mountain roads. And, it is always reassuring when I locate the dirty and dusty box of tire chains and make them the first thing I pack in the car.
While I don't like the thought of needing those chains and I don't like the idea of actually having to slog around in the cold and muck to put them on, I sure do like knowing that, if the conditions demand it, I have something to turn to so I can keep the journey going. The chains provide traction when there is none. The chains grip the road when the tires can't do it alone. And, though I would always rather have clear sailing on calm seas the fact is that it just doesn't work out that way. Ever.
We've all got journeys to make in the gift of this new year. Whatever you've resolved to do, wherever you plan to go, what are you packing for when the road gets rough? What or who will you turn to on the days when you just can't keep your grip...when you lose traction...when you need a little help?
© 2010 David Berry
The drive itself is pretty straightforward, much of it through the very flat, very straight Central Valley. There is, however, a fair bit of mountain driving - through the Angeles National forest in Southern California and a stunning stretch from Redding to Mt. Shasta in the northernmost part of the state. Given the intense weather that rolled down the west coast in late December I was concerned that our drive through these areas would be challenging at best, especially if temperatures dipped and snow started to fall.
Having grown up and lived nearly my entire life in Southern California the most interesting driving challenge I've faced is getting stuck in the sand at our favorite beach. So, it is always with some trepidation that I consider having to drive on slushy, slippery mountain roads. And, it is always reassuring when I locate the dirty and dusty box of tire chains and make them the first thing I pack in the car.
While I don't like the thought of needing those chains and I don't like the idea of actually having to slog around in the cold and muck to put them on, I sure do like knowing that, if the conditions demand it, I have something to turn to so I can keep the journey going. The chains provide traction when there is none. The chains grip the road when the tires can't do it alone. And, though I would always rather have clear sailing on calm seas the fact is that it just doesn't work out that way. Ever.
We've all got journeys to make in the gift of this new year. Whatever you've resolved to do, wherever you plan to go, what are you packing for when the road gets rough? What or who will you turn to on the days when you just can't keep your grip...when you lose traction...when you need a little help?
© 2010 David Berry
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