Narrator: Imagine being ordered to run, fully clothed, into the freezing ocean surf, then immediately roll around on the sand until every inch of your body is coated in a gritty, chafing layer. This punishment, known in Navy SEAL training as becoming a "sugar cookie," isn't for a major infraction. It's for a uniform that's merely imperfect. It feels pointless, arbitrary, and deeply unfair. Yet, it’s in these moments of seemingly senseless hardship that the most profound lessons about life are forged. What could possibly be learned from such an experience?

In his concise and powerful book, Make Your Bed: Little Things That Can Change Your Life...And Maybe the World, Admiral William H. McRaven argues that the path to achieving great things doesn't start with grand gestures, but with small, foundational acts of discipline and resilience. Drawing from ten core principles he learned during his 37 years as a Navy SEAL, McRaven reveals how the simple lessons from training can empower anyone to overcome adversity, inspire others, and fundamentally change their own life, and perhaps even the world.

Narrator: The book’s central and most famous lesson is deceptively simple: if you want to change the world, start by making your bed. This wasn't just a trivial chore in SEAL training; it was the first test of the day. An instructor would meticulously inspect each bed, ensuring the corners were sharp, the blanket was folded just so, and the pillow was perfectly centered. A quarter flipped onto the bed had to bounce.

McRaven explains that this simple act accomplishes several things. First, it starts the day with a completed task, providing a small sense of pride and encouraging the completion of another task, and then another. Second, it reinforces the importance of discipline and attention to detail—the understanding that if you can’t do the little things right, you’ll never be trusted with the big things. Finally, it serves as a reminder that even on a terrible day, you can come home to a bed that you made, a small sign of order in a chaotic world.

This principle is a constant. McRaven recounts how, after a devastating parachute accident left him bedridden just as the 9/11 attacks occurred, the first thing he did when he could finally stand was make his bed. It was a signal to himself that he was starting the road to recovery. He contrasts this with his observations of Saddam Hussein after his capture in 2003. The deposed dictator, held in a small room, never once made his bed. To McRaven, this small act of neglect was symbolic of a man who had lost control and accepted his fate, a stark contrast to the discipline that defines those who persevere.

Narrator: No one makes it through SEAL training, or life, alone. McRaven powerfully illustrates this with the story of the rubber raft. During the first phase of training, each seven-man boat crew had to carry a ten-foot rubber raft everywhere they went—to the mess hall, across sand dunes, and through the pounding surf. It was a constant, grueling exercise in teamwork.

When one man was sick or injured, the others had to paddle harder and carry more of the weight. They learned that their individual success was inextricably linked to the success of the team. You cannot paddle the boat alone. This lesson was driven home for McRaven years later when a near-fatal parachuting accident shattered his pelvis. It was his wife, Georgeann, who became his "boat crew," nursing him back to health and giving him the strength to continue his career. His success, he emphasizes, depended entirely on others.

Furthermore, the strength of that team is not determined by physical size or background, but by the size of each person's heart. McRaven recalls a boat crew in his class nicknamed the "munchkin crew" because it was composed of men under five-foot-five. While other, bigger crews mocked them, the munchkin crew, made up of a diverse group of determined individuals, consistently out-paddled, out-ran, and out-swam everyone else. They proved that what mattered was not the size of their flippers, but the size of their will to succeed.

Narrator: Life is not fair. This is the lesson of the "sugar cookie." No matter how perfectly you prepare, sometimes you will fail for reasons beyond your control. The key, McRaven argues, is not to complain or blame misfortune, but to accept it and drive on. This resilience is a muscle, and SEAL training was designed to build it.

One of the most feared punishments for failing a daily event was an invitation to "The Circus." This was two hours of extra, intense calisthenics designed to wear you down. McRaven and his swim buddy found themselves on the Circus list every day for their poor swimming. At first, the exhaustion made them swim even slower. But over time, the constant pain and suffering paid off. The extra work made them stronger. In the final, decisive five-mile swim of their training, they finished first. They learned that failure, if embraced with perseverance, can make you stronger.

This mindset extends to taking calculated risks. McRaven tells the story of the "Slide for Life" obstacle, a rope slide from a thirty-foot tower. He was slow, using a safe but inefficient technique. An instructor challenged him, asking, "When are you going to learn... unless you start taking some risks?" Terrified but determined, McRaven later went down the rope headfirst, Commando-style, and shattered his previous time. Without daring greatly, he notes, you will never know what is truly possible.

Narrator: In the darkest moments, one person can be the source of hope for everyone. During the infamous "Hell Week," McRaven's class was ordered into the freezing Tijuana mudflats for 15 hours. Cold, exhausted, and miserable, the instructors told them they could get out of the mud if just five men would quit. As one man started to give up, a single voice began to sing a song. Soon, another joined in, and then the whole class was singing. Their collective spirit rose, their resolve hardened, and the instructor’s threats were drowned out by their unified voices. Hope, ignited by one person, made them unbreakable.

This power to give hope is a leader’s greatest tool. But the ultimate lesson, the one that underpins all others, is to never, ever quit. On the first day of SEAL training, the instructor points to a brass bell in the center of the compound. He tells the trainees that all they have to do to end the pain is ring that bell three times. But, he warns, if they do, they will regret it for the rest of their lives.

McRaven shares the story of meeting Ranger Adam Bates, a 19-year-old soldier who lost both legs to an IED in Afghanistan. Lying in a hospital bed, unable to speak, Bates used sign language to communicate with McRaven. His message was not one of despair, but of resolve: "I—will—be—OK." A year later, McRaven saw Bates standing tall on two prosthetic legs, his spirit unbroken. He refused to ring the bell.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Make Your Bed is that profound change is the result of small, consistent, and courageous actions. Changing the world is not a single, monumental event, but the cumulative effect of countless individuals choosing discipline over ease, teamwork over ego, and resilience over complaint. It begins with the simple decision to start your day with a task completed.

Admiral McRaven’s message leaves us with a powerful challenge. Life will inevitably present us with our own versions of the cold mud, the punishing Circus, and the intimidating sharks. In those moments, we will all be tempted to ring the bell. The true measure of our lives will not be whether we faced hardship, but how we responded when we did—whether we chose to stand tall, help others paddle, and never, ever quit.