Tag: self-improvement

Tend the Yard

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

Day 68 of 280 | The 7-40 Challenge

I spent over six hours outside today. Not sunbathing. Working.

We hauled tree clippings to the dump. I mowed the entire yard. We hung gates on my wife’s garden. And by the time I came inside, I was sunburned, sore, and more satisfied than I’ve been in a while.

Which is funny, because in my younger years, I absolutely hated yard work.

We moved into this house in June of 2025. We’re the second owners — the previous owner had it for 23 years. She had fruit trees planted, landscaping installed, and a home that was well-loved for a long time. But somewhere in the last several years, things fell into disrepair. She moved on, and the yard didn’t move with her.

When we got here, we found trees that were overgrown. Vines climbing up into the branches. Wire supports from when the trees were young — still wrapped around the base, now growing into the bark because nobody ever removed them. Beautiful, healthy trees being quietly damaged by neglect.

The grass had weeds woven through it. The landscaping needed major remediation. The bones were good, but the care had stopped.

Sound familiar?

My wife — who is a far more skilled gardener than I will ever be — went to work on those trees. She pruned them back hard. Cut away the dead wood. Removed the vines. Freed the trunks from the wire that was choking them. Some of those trees look like they’ve had major surgery.

They may not be as fruitful this year. But they’ll be healthy. And in the years to come, they’ll produce more than they ever did when they were overgrown and neglected.

Last year, before any of this work was done, we picked over 75 pounds of apples off just two of our nine apple trees. Trees that hadn’t been tended to in years. Imagine what happens now that we’ve actually taken care of them.

I couldn’t stop thinking about this today while I was mowing.

Because this yard is my life.

For twenty years, I had good bones. I had talent. I had ideas. I had desire. But things had fallen into disrepair. Habits I should have been tending to were overgrown. Wires I should have removed years ago — old ways of thinking, old excuses, old patterns — were growing into the bark. I was still producing some fruit, but nowhere near what was possible if someone had just taken the time to prune.

That’s what the last 68 days have been. Pruning.

Cutting away the things that don’t need to be there. Making sure the state of my life is in order. Organizing every day so that the conditions are right for growth. Trimming back activities that weren’t producing anything so the ones that matter can thrive.

It’s not glamorous work. It’s not the kind of thing that makes a good Instagram post. But it’s the work that makes everything else possible.

I started reading Todd Henry’s Die Empty today while I was mowing. And the title — which sounds morbid if you don’t know the context — is actually one of the most inspiring ideas I’ve encountered.

Henry’s argument is simple: as a creative person, you want to have been so creative, so often, that when your time finally comes, there’s nothing left inside that didn’t get out. You tended the garden. You grew the fruit. You pulled the vines. You planted the seeds. And at the end of the season, there’s nothing else that could have been done.

You die empty. Not because you had nothing. Because you gave everything.

That’s exactly what I’m aiming for. Not just through this challenge, but through the way I choose to live.

I know I was put here to do important things. To take care of people. To love people. To inspire people. To be more and do more than what might meet the eye.

I want to be a good steward of what I’ve been given. I want to make my home beautiful. I want to make my property beautiful. I want to provide for my family. I want to be generous with others. I want to be creative enough that all the things I’ve been put here to do actually get done.

I want to tend the yard — the literal one and the metaphorical one — so that when the season is over, the harvest speaks for itself.

I want to die empty. Because I offered myself as a living sacrifice, one that was pleasing to God in the end.

Day 68 Scorecard:

✅ Bible study and prayer
✅ Exercise (6 hours of yard work)
✅ Reading (Die Empty — Todd Henry + Keep Going — Austin Kleon)
✅ Calories tracked
✅ Water (100 oz)
✅ Gratitude
✅ BiblePictures365
✅ Creative hour

740Challenge #DieEmpty #ToddHenry #TendTheYard #Transformation #LivingProof #DayByDay #Stewardship #PruneToGrow #LifeOnPurpose

Flow and Stock

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

Day 65 of 280 | The 7-40 Challenge

I started reading Austin Kleon’s Show Your Work today. To me, he sounds like a modern-day Seth Godin — an artist who’s figured out how to say, very poignantly, not just how he found success, but how he built it. And he shares it in a way that’s both relevant and timeless.

Three things hit me today.

Maintain your flow while collecting your stock.

My flow is what I do every day. The habits. The routines. The framework. The stream of ideas, creativity, and writing that comes from showing up and doing the work. Flow is the engine.

My stock is what I produce over time because I stayed in the flow.

What have I produced over the last two rounds of the 7-40 Challenge? I edited one novel and got it published on Amazon. I wrote another novel and took it through its revision passes. I’ve blogged every single day this year — not just on challenge days, but during the assessment weeks too. This blog has become my daily creation habit — my response to how the habits are affecting me, how the reading is impacting me, and how I’m starting to put things together and see the world in ways I never have before.

Some of the visions and thoughts I’ve had over the years are coming back to me now and making more sense in the context of where I am and what I’m doing. The ideas didn’t change. I did.

Maintain your flow. The stock takes care of itself.

Small things over time get big.

We know this. If you’ve ever put money into a bank account and watched compound interest work, small additions over time can get really big.

If you’ve ever thrown your clothes down in a room and kept throwing them down, something as small as a single shirt on the floor can end up being something as big as your wife not being happy with you and a whole lot of cleaning to do because you let it go too long.

There are so many examples. But here’s the one that matters to me right now: if I proactively practice my habits every day — if I put in my time writing, put in my time creating, put in my time connecting on social media — then I will see those things get big. The same is true for exercise, eating well, drinking water. As I put in the repetitions, my body is getting more fit. The pounds are going down.

Sixty-five days of small things. And they’re starting to get big.

Your website is your own little corner of the internet.

I’ve heard this before. But Kleon added something that turned on a light bulb for me: your social media platforms — Instagram, Facebook, TikTok — can be taken from you. If the overlords of those companies decide to change the rules, your content lives on their land, not yours.

Your website is different. It’s yours. It’s where your content is stored, where your central hub lives, where you’re building the brand of you so you can speak on anything you want — and it’s a place you can lead people back to so they can see exactly who you are and what you do.

I saw a Gary Vaynerchuk video the other day where he said one of the things that’s working in social right now is making content about everything — not boxing yourself into one lane. I identify with that. I have interests in many different areas. I have many different things I want to work on. And having my own corner of the internet where all of that comes together? That’s the hub. The social platforms are the megaphones. The website is the house.

Maintain your flow while collecting your stock. Small things over time get big. Your website is your own little corner of the internet.

Three good nuggets from today’s reading. And every single one of them confirms I’m on the right track and doing the right things.

Day 64 Scorecard:

✅ Bible study and prayer (finished Numbers!)
✅ Walking
✅ Reading (Show Your Work — Austin Kleon)
✅ Calories tracked
✅ Water (100 oz)
✅ Gratitude
✅ Exercise (Workout B with Trey)
✅ BiblePictures365
✅ Creative hour

740Challenge #ShowYourWork #AustinKleon #Flow #Stock #SmallThingsGetBig #Transformation #LivingProof #DayByDay

You Showed Up

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

Day 64 of 280 | The 7-40 Challenge | Thank You Campaign

Last night, I knocked on a door I’ve been refusing to knock on for quite some time.

The door of telling people what I’m up to and inviting them to be a part of my creativity.

I don’t know what I thought would happen. I don’t know if I thought I was by myself, or that nobody was paying attention, or — honestly, I don’t know what I thought.

But I was more than pleasantly surprised.

People I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to in several years reached out to me today. To congratulate me. To buy my book. To give me immediate feedback on a few things that need to be corrected — which I thought was awesome. Real feedback from real people who took the time to read what I wrote.

I’m overwhelmed. Because the support that came out of just putting myself out there — just trusting that there are people who care about who I am and what I do — was amazing. It was really, really good.

So this isn’t a long post tonight. It’s a simple one.

If you’re reading this — know that I’m thankful for you.

Whether you bought my book, or left a comment, or shared a post, or just sent me a message — thank you.

Thank you for hanging out with me long enough to read the words I’m saying. Thank you for the feedback. Thank you for the comments. Thank you just for being you.

I spent a long time convinced that nobody would care about what I was creating. I was wrong. You showed up. And that means more than I know how to say.

I really appreciate it.

740Challenge #ThankYouCampaign #Gratitude #PhaseDefiant #DMTWillis #IndieAuthor #Community #LivingProof #DayByDay #YouShowedUp

Day 60: The Four-Day Hike

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

Day 60 of 280 | The 7-40 Challenge

A long time ago, when I first got interested in being a writer, I thought about the kind of characters I wanted to create. I wanted heroes. Strong ones. Ones who couldn’t be beat.

It took me years to realize that a character worth reading isn’t a perfect character. It’s not someone who can’t lose. It’s someone who has to face something real, something that might actually beat them, and find a way through it. Even Superman has family issues. Nobody gets a free pass — not even in fiction.

I think that’s why Donald Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years hit me differently this time.

The first time I read it, my son had just been born. I was the sole breadwinner for a young family — and I want to be careful with that phrase. I don’t say sole job-haver. My wife has had one of the hardest jobs there is, being a stay-at-home mom and running our household for years. But I was in survival mode. Working everything I could to provide.

So when Miller wrote about watching too much TV, buying things he didn’t need, drifting through a comfortable life without meaning — I didn’t connect with it. I didn’t have the money to waste or the time to drift. I was running full speed just to keep up.

I didn’t understand his struggle with fatherlessness, because I have a very good dad. I didn’t understand his hang-ups with relationships, because I got married early and never struggled to want to be in one. I didn’t understand his need to sit and contemplate everything to the nth degree.

I read the book. I enjoyed the narrative. I put it down.

But now, all these years later, with a lot more life under my belt and a lot more clarity on who I am, I can empathize. I can put myself in someone else’s shoes in a way I couldn’t before, because I have so many more experiences to draw from.

I can see how you fall into routines without noticing. I can see how you live vicariously through other people’s stories instead of writing your own. I can see how you’d avoid meeting a parent you haven’t seen in thirty years. I can see how working up the courage to pursue someone could feel impossible.

The book didn’t change. I did.

And the stuff Miller says about story — about living intentionally, about doing things on purpose, about making your life mean something — I always understood that on some level. But I segmented it. I applied it to my day job and nowhere else. I’d tell myself I wanted a side hustle, wanted to write, wanted to build something. But then I’d pour all my energy into the work that paid the bills and let everything else sit in notebooks.

Two years ago, in a different city, with a different job, under very different circumstances, I don’t think I would have been ready for this book to hit me the way it’s hitting me now.

Miller tells a story about hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. He arrived in Peru a couple of days before the hike started. The town they were in sat at 11,000 feet — the same altitude as Mount Hood, a mountain he could see snow on from Portland every day. Just being there made it hard to breathe.

That detail stopped me, because I remembered standing at the top of Pike’s Peak in June of 1998. I was with a college group. My future bride and I were in a van together — on the top of the mountain in shorts. It was cold. So cold that we decided to stay in the van. On top of that, the air was so thin at the top that I fell asleep. Couldn’t hold my eyes open. I know the feeling Miller is describing.

Miller and his group started hiking, and they reached a point along a river where the guide told them it was a six-hour walk to Machu Picchu along the trade route. That’s how people used to get there. Easy. Flat. Direct.

Then the guide pointed in a different direction and said the hike they were taking would be four days. The reason? The ruler of Machu Picchu once declared that the more painful the journey, the more the travelers would appreciate their arrival.

Four days later, Miller wrote that the journey had made them different characters than they would have been otherwise. The journey changed them. Had they taken the river route — the six-hour shortcut — they would have missed the beauty, missed the meaning, missed the culture, missed the experience of doing something so physically taxing and mentally draining and still making it through to celebrate at the peak.

I feel like that’s what this journey is.

The easy way would be to do seven habits, tick the boxes, and float along the river. And honestly, that’s close to what I was doing for years — circling the same goals in different notebooks, never building the infrastructure to actually move.

But I’m noticing something as I lean into these seven habits. As I lean into questions I’ve been asking for years. As I lean into being more creative than I ever thought I could be. As I lean into my skills, and into that nudge that says keep going.

I’m transforming into a different character.

A character who expects more. A character who wants to risk more. A character who won’t find it satisfying to play it safe anymore.

I’ve had my inciting incident. And now it’s time to live a better story.

Does the book read differently because it’s good? Yes, it’s a very good book. The foundation Miller is standing on — that if we’ll willingly sit for hours watching a character overcome obstacles in a movie, it makes complete sense that living our own lives with the same kind of intentional effort would be just as meaningful — that’s a powerful argument.

But the real reason the book hits different is because I’m different. When I was younger and just trying to survive, I didn’t realize I had the capacity to start building something beyond the paycheck. I had the desire. I had the ideas. What I didn’t have was the organizational structure to execute.

That’s what sixty days of the 7-40 Challenge has given me. Not motivation. Structure. And because of that structure, I’ve been able to do more in two months and six days than I did in several years otherwise.

The book is the same $12 it was the first time I bought it. The reader is the variable.

Day 60 Scorecard:

✅ Bible study and prayer ✅ Exercise (Workout C with Trey) ✅ Walking ✅ Reading (A Million Miles in a Thousand Years) ✅ Calories tracked ✅ Water (100 oz) ✅ Gratitude ✅ Creative hour

Sixty days down. Two hundred and twenty to go. The four-day hike continues.

Day 59: Point Toward the Horizon

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

I was reading Donald Miller today — A Million Miles in a Thousand Years — and he tells the story of a friend who runs a law firm. Not just any law firm. This firm rescues girls from human trafficking and the sex slave trade.

When Miller asked the man what his primary job was, the answer wasn’t legal strategy or fundraising or case management. The man said his job was to show up every morning and remind his lawyers what their mission was. To point them toward the horizon of saving the powerless.

That’s it. That’s the job. Point toward the horizon.

I’ve been thinking about that all day. Because I think most of us wake up and start working without ever looking up. We open the laptop. We check the list. We push the cart forward. But we never stop to ask — forward toward what?

A ship without a horizon is just a floating room.

I spent twenty years with notebooks full of goals and no horizon to aim them at. I had tools. I had ideas. I had desire. What I didn’t have was a clear picture of where all of it was supposed to go. So the tools just sat there, and the ideas piled up, and the desire burned slow and quiet and never caught fire.

December 2025, I finally pointed at something. I wrote a document. I named the habits. I set the course. And sixty days later, everything that felt like wasted time has started to look like foundation.

The horizon doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be visible. And the first step toward seeing it clearly is being willing to ask: where am I actually trying to go?

Day 59. Eyes up.

I write every day about transformation, habits, and what actually happens when you stop planning and start doing. If that resonates, join the list at subscribepage.io/5g8Hdy and I’ll send you one email per week with the best of what I’m learning.