A Tomb or a Library

Day 71 of 280 | The 7-40 Challenge

I’ve spent nearly twenty years working in data management. It’s my day job. I think about how data flows through systems, how it gets organized, how it turns into something useful. I think about the architecture behind it — the tables, the databases, the business processes, the people who care enough to enter things correctly and the people who throw things at random into places they don’t belong.

And about ten years ago, I started seeing the same framework everywhere — not just at work, but in life.


In my field, there’s something called the DIKW pyramid. It works like this:

Data is raw. It’s the unprocessed facts of your life — the events, the numbers, the experiences piling up with no context.

Information is data with context. When you start to organize what’s happened to you and see patterns, you’ve turned data into information.

Knowledge is information you’ve absorbed. The books you’ve read, the lessons you’ve been taught, the principles you can recite from memory.

Wisdom is knowledge tested against your own life — wrestled with, questioned, and earned through action.

Most people stop at knowledge. They read the book. They save the post. They listen to the podcast. They can recite the principles. And they stay stuck. Because knowledge without action is just a shelf full of books you never opened twice.


I didn’t learn this from a textbook. I learned it the hard way.

I was lying in a hospital bed during my second bout with cancer. I had time to think — more time than I wanted. And I started seeing the connections. The way data moved through my company was the same way information moved through my life. Raw inputs get processed into something contextual. Context builds into understanding. Understanding, if you act on it, becomes wisdom.

And I realized: if I control the inputs — what I read, how I eat, how I exercise, what I feed my mind and my spirit — I can, in a lot of ways, influence the output. That’s true in data management. And it’s true in life.


Here’s the question that keeps coming back to me: What’s the difference between someone who reads Atomic Habits and changes their life versus someone who reads the same book and puts it on the shelf?

Same book. Same information. Same knowledge available to both.

The variable is agency. The willingness to act on what you know. The realization that nobody is coming to save you, nobody is going to do it for you, and the information sitting on your shelf is useless until you decide to apply it.

That’s the leap from knowledge to wisdom. Not reading more. Doing something with what you’ve already read.


My data management brain sees things in a different way. I see systems. I see related sets of information that join together. I see frameworks and architecture. I think about how things connect — and more importantly, I think about what happens when they don’t.

And here’s what I notice about how most people organize their lives: their inputs are at odds with their stated goals.

Someone says they want to be a writer but never sits down to write. Someone says they want to get in shape and fills their body with garbage. Someone says they want a strong marriage and spends their energy tearing their spouse down behind closed doors.

A data architect would look at that and flag it immediately: you have a structural problem. Your inputs don’t match your desired output. No amount of motivation will fix that. You need to redesign the system.

That’s what healthy habits do. They redesign the system. They align your daily inputs with the life you say you want. And when the system is aligned, the outputs start to change — not because you’re trying harder, but because the architecture finally supports the goal.


So if you’re sitting at your desk right now, with a shelf full of books behind you and a head full of knowledge that hasn’t changed anything — I have one question for you.

Is that shelf a tomb or a library?

A tomb is something that’s never opened because it’s full of dead bones. Decay and rot and silence live there. The information inside has stopped moving. It serves no one.

A library is alive. It’s rich with possibility. It’s full of words that want to guide you somewhere better. It’s waiting for someone to pull a book off the shelf, open it, and do something with what’s inside.

If you’ve been collecting books the way I collected books for twenty years, I have a feeling you want more than you have right now. You want to be more and do more than you are. But you’re stuck on this word: agency. You don’t feel like you have any. You feel like every time you try to move forward, something pushes back.

Here’s what a data architect would tell you: that pushback is a system conflict. Your old architecture — the habits, the patterns, the defaults you’ve been running on for years — is fighting the new inputs you’re trying to introduce. That’s not a sign that you’re failing. That’s a sign that the redesign is working. Every system resists change at first. The old processes don’t want to be replaced. But if you keep feeding the new system with the right inputs, consistently, the old one loses its grip. The architecture shifts. And the outputs start to change.


So I’ll ask you plainly: what do you want?

And if you know what you want — what are you willing to do to get it?

I spent twenty years with a shelf full of books and a head full of knowledge that wasn’t going anywhere. I had data. I had information. I even had knowledge. What I didn’t have was the willingness to put it to work — to wrestle it into wisdom through daily, unglamorous action.

Don’t let your shelf be a tomb. Turn it into a library. Take what you know, apply it to your life, and start the climb from knowledge to wisdom. Do it today. Do it again tomorrow. And pretty soon, you’ll look in the mirror and barely recognize yourself — not because you became someone new, but because you finally became who you were always supposed to be.


Day 71 Scorecard:

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


740Challenge #DIKW #DataToWisdom #TombOrLibrary #Agency #Transformation #LivingProof #DayByDay #LifeOnPurpose #ToddHenry #SystemsThinking

SELECT * FROM imagination WHERE creativity IS NOT NULL

Day 50 — The 7-40 Challenge

February 24, 2026

I spend my days writing SQL, talking with people about their data, and making sure systems talk to each other the way they’re supposed to. It’s not glamorous. Nobody’s making a movie about the guy who finds the duplicate data records.

But here’s the thing nobody tells you about data management — it’s storytelling. And I don’t mean that in a fluffy, motivational-poster kind of way. I mean it structurally. The same brain that queries a database is the same brain that builds a fictional world. Let me show you what I mean.

In a database, every table needs a primary key. That’s the unique identifier that connects one set of information to another. A vendor’s tax ID, an employee number, a transaction code. Without it, you’re just staring at rows of disconnected facts that don’t mean anything.

Characters work the same way. Tiffany Grant, the protagonist of my novel Phase Defiant, has a primary key — and it’s not her name or her abilities. It’s her relentless need to ask questions. She doesn’t accept things at face value. That trait is what connects her to every relationship, every conflict, and every turning point in the story. It’s also what connects her to Thomas, because he’s wired the same way. When those two primary keys match up, suddenly you can JOIN the tables together and the story gets a whole lot richer.

Speaking of JOINs — in SQL, when you join two tables, you take partial pictures and combine them into something complete. One table might show you a vendor’s name and address. Another shows you their payment history. A third shows you the contracts. Individually, they’re just fragments. Joined together, they tell you exactly who that vendor is, what they do, and whether or not they’re worth keeping around.

Fiction works the same way. Tiffany by herself is one dimension of the story. Thomas by himself is another. The organization watching them is another. But when those plotlines JOIN — when characters realize they’re not alone and start working together — the story gets bigger than any one of them. That’s not a coincidence. That’s architecture.

Now, let’s talk about dirty data. In my world, dirty data is the stuff that doesn’t add up. Duplicate records, missing fields, values that shouldn’t exist, timestamps that make no sense. And here’s what most people don’t realize — dirty data tells you a story too. It tells you where the organization cut corners, where they stopped paying attention, and sometimes where somebody’s actively hiding something.

Fiction has dirty data too. It’s called the villain.

A good villain in a story does the same thing bad data does in a database — they either hide incompetence or they hide something more sinister. They lead you to believe something that isn’t true so they can achieve their own ends. And just like a senior analyst can spot a counterfeit record the way a bank teller can feel a counterfeit bill, an experienced reader can feel when something’s off in a story. The details don’t add up. Someone’s motives don’t match their actions. That’s dirty data, and it means someone in the story is lying to you.

I’ve heard that bank tellers who handle money all day long can spot a fake bill the moment it hits their fingers. They don’t need to hold it up to the light. They just know. I’ve seen the same thing in data. When you’ve worked with it long enough, you know when something’s wrong before you can even articulate why. The flow is off. The connections don’t make sense. And that instinct — that pattern recognition — is the exact same muscle I use when I’m writing fiction and something in the plot doesn’t feel right.

Here’s one more parallel, and then I’ll stop nerding out. There’s a principle in AI and data science: garbage in, garbage out. If your data is poorly managed, your AI is going to make erroneous assumptions based on bad connections. It won’t understand your business. It won’t see the truth. It’ll confidently give you wrong answers because the inputs were wrong.

Storytelling has the same rule. If you skip the world-building, if you don’t lay down the framework, if you don’t know who your character is and what they want and what’s standing in their way — you end up with a plot that confidently goes nowhere. The architecture of a good story is the same as the architecture of a good database. Character wants something. Adversity stands in the way. A guide shows them a path. They move toward victory or experience defeat. That’s the character arc. That’s also, if you squint at it, a pretty decent data flow diagram.

I say all of this because I spent a long time thinking I had to be one thing. Technical or creative. Analytical or artistic. SQL or storytelling. The truth is, they’re the same skill wearing different clothes. Both require you to see patterns. Both require you to connect things that look unrelated. Both require you to know when something doesn’t add up and have the courage to say so.

So if you’re the person who spends all day in spreadsheets and databases and you think you’re not creative — you’re wrong. You’ve been telling stories with data your whole career. You just didn’t call it that.

And if you’re the creative person who thinks data is boring — come sit with me for an hour. I’ll show you a database that reads like a thriller. We can finds some villains lurking for sure.

The Rules That Make Excellence Possible: Day 27

Day 27 of the 7-40 Challenge
Tuesday, January 27, 2026

I’m reading Carmine Gallo’s book Talk Like TED right now, and in Chapter 1, he asks a question that stopped me on my walk this morning:

“What makes your heart sing?”

The answer came immediately: Being a husband to to my bride. Being a father to my son.

That’s what makes my heart sing personally.

But then he asks another question: “What is your obsession? What are you passionate about?”

And that’s where things get interesting.

The Answer I Didn’t Expect

My obsession isn’t separate from what makes my heart sing. They’re connected.

I’m obsessed with becoming the best version of myself—not for followers, not for book sales, not for speaking fees—but because I can’t be the husband she deserves if I’m dragging.

I can’t be the father my son needs if I’m physically exhausted, mentally foggy, emotionally drained, or spiritually disconnected.

The better I become—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually—the more I can show up as the man they need. The more I can model the kind of intentional, loving marriage that’s lacking in so much of the world today.

And here’s the thing: I can’t fragment myself. I can’t be excellent at home and mediocre at work. I can’t be disciplined with my spiritual life and careless with my body.

Excellence has to run through everything, or it doesn’t run through anything.

What My Day Job Taught Me About Transformation

I’m a data professional. I’ve been doing this work for over 18 years.

And here’s what I know from my day job: There is process. There is order. There are rules.

Data management isn’t chaos. It’s systematic. Organized. Deliberate.

When you have clear rules—agreed-upon ways to do things—everyone knows how to play the game. Everyone knows what success looks like. Everyone has a shot at excellence.

If I don’t know the traffic laws, I’ll run into people.

If I don’t know the rules of football, I’ll tackle the wrong person and the other team will win.

If I don’t have clear habits, I’ll drift through life wondering why nothing ever changes.

Rules aren’t there to penalize us. Rules are there to help us play the game better.

And by knowing the rules and following the system—the workflow, the structure—we actually have an opportunity to be excellent.

The 7-40 Challenge: The Rules of My Game

So what are the rules I’ve set for myself?

I have to be spiritually healthy.
I have to be physically healthy.
I have to be mentally healthy.
I have to be emotionally healthy.

Because if I’m healthy in those four areas, I can do all the major things I need to do in my life: be a husband, be a father, be a good worker, be a good friend.

That’s why the seven habits aren’t random. They’re strategic:

  1. Bible Study & Prayer → Spiritual health
  2. Exercise (1 hour daily) → Physical health
  3. Calorie Tracking → Physical health
  4. Water (100oz daily) → Physical health
  5. Reading/Learning → Mental health
  6. Gratitude Practice → Emotional health
  7. Creative Work → Mental and emotional health

These aren’t restrictions. They’re the agreed-upon structure that makes excellence possible.

Just like the data governance frameworks I use at work, just like traffic laws, just like the rules of any game—the 7-40 Challenge works because it has rules.

And when you know the game, you can play it well.

How This Helps 1,000 People

Here’s why this matters for my mission to help 1,000 people:

I’m not trying to inspire anyone with motivational speeches. I’m not selling quick fixes or secret formulas.

I’m defining the rules of the game clearly so that anyone who wants to play can play.

Seven habits. Forty days. Analyze. Rinse. Repeat 7 times.

That’s it. That’s the game.

You don’t need to figure out your own system. You don’t need to guess what works. The rules are clear. I am proving the framework as I go.

And just like at my day job, when you define the process clearly, everyone else can follow it too.

That’s not restriction. That’s freedom.

Freedom to focus on execution instead of decision fatigue. Freedom to know exactly what “winning the day” looks like. Freedom to become excellent because the path is clear.

What Gallo’s Question Revealed

So when Carmine Gallo asked, “What makes your heart sing?” I thought the answer was simple: my family.

But what I realized on my walk this morning is that the 7-40 Challenge IS about my family.

It’s about becoming the man she deserves and the father my son needs.

It’s about not fragmenting myself—being one integrated person who brings the same commitment to excellence to every area of life.

And it’s about using the same process discipline that makes me excellent at data work to become even more excellent as a husband, father, and human. And vice versa.

The rules don’t limit me. They make excellence possible.

And if they work for me, they can work for you too.

Because the game has rules. And when you know the rules, you can win.


Day 27: Complete ✓

All seven habits executed. The rules are working.

Round 1 Progress: 27/40 days (67.5%)

See you tomorrow for Day 28.