Please scroll to the bottom of this blog to hear the podcast! The terrible two’s evoke memories of the dreaded sound of NO, an utterance with the frequency of summer southern humidity. Toddlers and stubbornness travel in pairs. The egocentric world roars as desire develops in little people. Aware of their power, they grab everything in sight as if they were the creators of the world. Having the freedom to move without restraint is shown to be an essential human drive. But so too is frustration.
Little people learn quickly to say NO when they don’t like being separated from or blocked. They experience the world as restrictive and they don’t like it.
The larger power, a more ominous Goliath that seeks to frustrate unbridled movement, clashes with the tiny David. And in this epic war for survival, Goliath always wins, one way or another.
Reflect on this, and you’ll realize how one’s self-image is affected by such a marvelous self-made movie, and how it contributes to our default buttons as we balance separateness with intimacy, self-assurance with the need for love and approval.
With this quest in mind, I began to ask people what it felt like to say NO, to reject a request that goes against their value system, to turn away from gossip, to avoid another family member’s drama, to honor a prior commitment by passing up a better invitation, to deny a personal favor, to forsake a friend’s need for a higher need, to end an unhealthy friendship, to say NO to a worn out lifestyle, a behavior that was self-abusive, or a job that was no longer fulfilling.
The answers followed a universal pattern. No one really likes to say No. We like to say YES because we are made for service. We are hard wired to help.
But that’s not the only motive. We also fear the response – the consequence – the outer power that still appears to be larger than us. We fear for our reputation, our image, our stature, our inability to survive. It’s as if without thinking, we draw from the well of life as a two year old and we ready ourselves for a struggle over where the line is drawn. Without much thought about whom I need to help more, myself or the other, whom I need to serve more, myself or the other, we automatically default to what we SHOULD do. We take one of the following courses by either 1) avoiding an answer, 2) saying yes and aborting the process by not following through, 3) saying yes and harboring bitterness, or 4) saying yes out of guilt, fear, an overly inflated power to save or a highly developed sense of obligation.
While I suspected that NO would not be easy for people, more eye opening was what people did after they said NO! The word always carried an explanation, judgment or self-incrimination.
It appeared to me that when we do say NO, we have to give a commentary on the reasons. We explain that we can’t because of (fill in the blank) and make sure we defend the response so as to NOT offend the other. To simply say NO or NO THANK YOU is never sufficient. A wall of explanation goes up immediately.
And then there’s the other side of NO. It’s when we say NO out of a history of co-dependency or if you will, a pattern of saying yes when we didn’t want to but were addicted to the all encompassing “need to be loved” and “fear of being abandoned”. We carry and harbor resentment over a history of saying YES and it eventually takes us down to the hell of “door matting.”
But when trampled on enough, the toddler roars fowl! The “I’ve had it” victim finds a renewed sense of power and rage is created.
What could be a simple NO becomes, “No, I will not clean up your mess.” “No, I will not continue to enable that behavior.” No, I will not be your crutch or your drug or your savior or your slave.” “No, I will not forgive your drinking anymore. I’m done.” “No, it’s not me, it’s you who are the problem.”
Notice a pattern? It’s not just a NO. It’s a judgmental NO. It’s a NO that has to somehow put the other person down, punish the other, make known that it’s not just NO. It’s a NO that is steeped in resentment and past wounds – either felt for the event/person of the moment or more often and more sinister, the painful “door matting” of our past.
Let’s face the hard fact. It’s just hard to say “no” and leave it at that. We have been programmed early on to either justify the raising of our drawbridge because we fear the consequences of NO, or worse, dropping it on those to whom in the past we have given of ourselves and whom now we call invaders and robbers.
Often underneath the fear of saying NO is a core and unconscious message. Because we already have to live with certain inadequacies, saying NO amplifies the pronouncement that we can’t meet another’s needs but SHOULD be able to. Saying NO, instead of being a simple acceptance of one’s personal limits and responsibility, becomes a shaming signal that sets off feelings from long ago that one should always be there, on alert, available, giving, helping, fixing, supporting, providing, enabling, correcting, or worse, used to medicate someone else’s pain. By saying NO, we admit that we are limited and at times powerless. And so the explanation, even the judgments, helps to cover the feeling of inadequacy.
Ironically, NO’S with judgment in the wings are indeed a way of getting back at and making others feel inadequate – of throwing bitterness around, of making sure that NEW boundaries are reset by clearly stating “not anymore.”
Yet those who re-discover the power of NO without explanation or judgment, a simple word that carries more force than any Iron Man or Thor could ever muster – find that it need not come from the bottle of a two year old, but from the interior reign of an adult – a force that is rooted in one’s core self-assurance.
Think about the times when you neither fought, defended, lashed out, judged nor explained. You simply said NO and in doing so, said YES to your own needs; you felt taller, walked more confidently, and slept better. You may have lost friends and the world you had grown accustomed to, but in the moment of saying, you knew the end was actually the beginning. With a simple NO, we are saying that we “don’t want to” and we discover that the sky isn’t going to fall.
Keeping the NO clean and simple cleanses and simplifies one’s life.
It’s not that saying NO makes life any more pleasurable. But it does make it more authentic, more self-aware and self-assured. In keeping NO’S clean, we believe that others will get what they need from a power greater than us. And that is the essence of true faith. When we say respectfully and joyfully, NO, I AM NOT GOD, we applaud our humanity and enjoy peace.
These are the times when we speak most deeply from integrity – when we respond to the world through a simple word that means we neither live in, for, nor through others – for we are all passing through this world.
But that we do live in, for and through ourselves and in our own unique world; only in our confidence in and not hatred of – a larger power within us – can we find a resting place.

Please scroll to the bottom of this post to hear/download the podcast!

Everywhere I turn, I hear about relational drama. It’s either “I don’t do drama,” “too much drama for me” or “she’s a drama queen.” Not only have I heard it used in melodramatic tones. I’ve walked into the trap.
For all of its’ negative connotations, RD (relational drama) is an energy source, a thruster for take offs and a fuel for many a gossip circle.
I have entertained a mix of reactions toward this type of drama, from bothered to bewildered – enhanced by the lack of an agreed upon understanding.
Like a Sherlock without the luxury of a Watson, I have probed many people for their understanding of RD and all I manage to extract are illustrations rather than definitions. People can tell when its’ going on, but few are able to understand the source or the purpose.
Often described as heavy, burdensome, draining, lacking rationale and filled with tragedy, heaves and sighs, RD makes the movie “Imitation of Life” pale in comparison.
There is, however, a strain that runs throughout every illustration. And it has to do with power, or the lack thereof.
RD seems to always unfolds it’s napkin at the table of insecurity and low self-possession. When people are at a loss, either of self-discipline, self-control, self-direction, those at the table, or anywhere nearby, are called like firemen to not only put out their desperate internal fires of self-deprecation, but to give of their own water supply.
Not just manifesting insecurity, it seeks to find a source from which to drink, a well that will quench the thirst for safety. RD is steeped in a default fear of a meaningless existence.
RD arises out of one’s insecurity with self, limits of self and acceptance of self. When my life lacks meaning and purpose, I then have to find a way to buffer myself – a way to compensate for my deficiencies. And what better way to prop myself up than to bring another person down? What better way to make myself feel better than to make someone else feel worse? What better way to deflect my faults than through the insidious escalation of another’s?
Such might be a rational behavior if the object of one’s gratification needs were not a human being who is being asked to give of his or her life force in order to sustain the insatiable quest.
The antithesis to charity and compassion, RD breeds contempt, resentment, bitterness and guilt. It feeds on escalation of emotion but finds only a partial satisfaction from the other.
Like a vampire seeking a constant supply of blood, so too does RD.
Simply reflect on bullying in school by kids who believe security is found by taking it from another, schemes by financial wizards who use other people’s money to garnish their wages, marriages that “tit for tat” with “you did this” responded by “you did that,” friends who play a game of put downs instead of pull ups, battering husbands whose greatest source of self-regulation is through physical abuse, drug addicts who blame the world for their problems and always have a circumstance with which to explain their fallen nature.
RD is a world of take, take and more take. And those who fall prey to it find that with enough practice, such a pattern can take root and spread.
It’s a disease of extraordinary proportion. Our lack of ease (disease), our lack of comfort, our lack of assuredness leads us to do what has been done since the beginning of time. We violate another. We become violent – verbally, emotionally or physically. The tragedy is that we are not seeking a war victory or even a battle victory. In the fight itself, we are filled with enough renewed energy until the next shoe comes off.
Violence begets violence as RD begets RD.
RD is the result of a perceived lack of oxygen to the soul, which leads us to grab the person closest to us and in that moment of desperation, seek to take a bit of theirs.
Even more demeaning to the human person is the awareness that with enough struggle, the person we’re seeking oxygen from, instead of personalizing and feeling threatened, will start fighting for their rights and the negative emotions escalate.
There is nothing more forceful than an insecure person who knows where to push the trigger of “you’re not good enough” in another and releases a surge of reactions that serve to bolster shame – an atmosphere of toxic fumes that engulfs every participant, creating a web of confusion.
To say that drama can captivate is one thing. To allow one’s soul to be captured by RD is yet another. For RD feeds on confused interpersonal boundaries by mixing the “I” with the “You”. There are no chairs on the stage of relational drama and people are constantly walking into each other.
This leaves me wondering, how can one be freed from the grip of RD? What happens to someone who plants the spear into the ground of his or her existence, who places a chair on the stage of life, sits in it and and simply says to the world, “I want to sit in my own chair, thank you very much. I don’t want to sit in yours or for you to sit in mine. I want a relational drama-free zone.”
To sit in one’s own chair, rather than weaken one’s power, actually expands it. And one begins to be freed.
Freed from blaming the world for one’s lack of power, from the advertising master that says wearing this perfume will attract hot men, from believing that the new body building routine will make one more attractive to women, from comparing one’s world to another’s, from the half truth that money will create happiness, from thinking that someone else is going provide salvation, from blaming someone for being successful and from relationships that build nothing but fast moving interstates enclosed by stone walls.
I may not be the best at it, but I have learned to sniff out RD in the same way a dog senses the coming of a stranger. Would that I could bark as loud.
If low self-esteem is the fuel for RD, then the water hydrant must be filled with self-awareness, self-evaluation, self-direction, self-soothing and ultimately, self-acceptance – born of flesh and human error but made whole by the ability to move beyond a power struggle.
It’s been called names – The Peace of Christ, Serenity, Enlightenment, to name a few.
I call it creating one’s own meaning given one’s life circumstances, playing the hand dealt, becoming self-possessed.
This attitude, while a narrow pathway, leads to peace and helps us navigate through gift of everyday living rather than script it, direct it, cast it, orchestrate it, star in it or write the reviews.
Life is a great play already. There’s no need to do any more than enjoy one’s own daily show in one’s daily chair – allowing everyone else to do the same.

Please scroll to the bottom of this post to hear the podcast!

“The story of Easter is the story of God’s wonderful window of divine surprise.” Carl Knudsen

There is such a temptation to intellectualize and even materialize the world of spirit.

We seek to understand. We long to see with our eyes and feel with our hands.

But the world of spirit, which is the invisible foundation of healthy mental attitudes (admittedly, my opinion), cannot be held, touched, seen or even understood through an intellectual pursuit.

It can only be gently accepted by a humble pilgrim who knows that life is but a short yet wonderful gift held in dignity – in and of itself.

The world of spirit is a world of darkness and light, joy and pain, beauty and ugliness. The world of spirit is indeed, a mixed blessing, a power that cannot be contained or owned – it can only be received with open hands and allowed to be blown away by the winds of time and need.

The world of spirit makes no distinction between the glamorous and the deformed. Each person on the wide spectrum of humanity and in the divine’s choice of time and space, is endowed with the power of healing and the gift of teaching. We learn from all people; we are recreated through each relationship, we take from all we meet and we give to all we encounter. Such is the power of human connectedness.

The season of Easter is a world of spirit – a time where the window of one’s soul is opened anew with an anticipation of divine surprise. It is a rich surprise party that celebrates a deep and abiding trust that all is well, and all will be well, even if our physical world tells us differently.

It is a time when joy comes, not in discovering one’s next plan or chapter, not in finding answers to one’s problems and concerns; but rather, in the total dedication of the will to that of the Living, Breathing, ever Loving Author of one’s precious life.

It is to pray the powerful yet simple prayer, Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me. Melt me. Mold Me. Fill me. Use me. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.

It is a time when we once again, choose to accept and authentically reveal our inherent worth and dignity. With such a renewal, a baptism of worth, we are committing to question the false idols we have created in our vain attempt to find security in this passing world. Even with hesitation, shame and fear, we know the truth and we seek to live it – regardless of what the worldly powers say.

Like the blooming azaleas, it is a window of opportunity that comes around once each year – a season when we live each day more aware of the spiritual mission of Jesus, whether we choose to be companions of his or not – a mission that is steeped in non-violence, justice and peace – a mission that in practically every way, is counter to what we hear, see, taste, feel and long for.

It is a world that scandalizes in its embrace of those we hate and scorn – a world that undermines all that we thought to hold dear and raises up all that we held in disdain.

The Easter world is not just any spirit. It has a clear and unambiguous mission that disavows any association with violence, injustice or war. Yet, it moves as an untamed wind – at once a well defined and narrow pathway that paradoxically has no boundaries – a messy, sticky, murky unchartered and unscientific journey- a constant invocation, a request that we be “shown the way”, that we then choose to “walk the pathway shown” and that we “trust the journey more than the goal – one step at a time.”

It is a journey of stepping on injustice and picking up people , resisting glamour and enhancing authenticity, taking off the iron mask of wealth and worldly power and exposing the true self of simplicity, shutting down the world of “doing for the sake of finding love and acceptance” and opening up the world of “being for the sake of authenticity and validation.”

It is a world where all decisions are made in the interest of the anawim, the poor and downtrodden, the invisible, the unjustly treated, the voiceless. It is a world of balancing love of self with love of others, of dignifying the poor within myself and the poor that lives among my spiritual brothers and sisters.

There is probably no other time in our history where the world of the Easter Spirit was more needed more than now.

For we have become drugged by the half truths of headlines whose other half is often buried in the back section weeks later; we have become addicted to the poisonous verdicts of self-declared judges of cable news that feed our drive to create enemies; we have become possessed by the lure of unending technological advances that destabilizes our sense of worth; we have become shamed by the false gods of both corporate advertisers and corporate preachers who feed our self-hatred with “you are not enough as you are” and “your diverse pathways to divine fulfillment are disingenuous.”

It will take nothing less than the Spirit of Easter, nothing more powerful that of the Resurrection itself to stand against these worldly empires.

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me. Melt me. Mold me. Fill me. Use me. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.

Would that this season be a time of renewed melting, molding, filling and using, I believe a wonderful window of divine surprises awaits us – as well as a further glimpse into the Kingdom of God.

Coming SOON!

DIVORCE RECOVERY
12 Week Recovery Group

Thursdays from 11 am -12:30 pm May 10- July 26, 2012

Chiron Center for Wellness Group Room
8414 Bluebonnet Blvd, Suite 100
Baton Rouge, LA 70810

Facilitated by W. Nicholas Abraham, PhD, LPC

A 12 week journey for all those who are going through the pain of divorce and who need professional, educational and social support- Guided by the book REBUILDING by Bruce Fisher
COST (including book) $599
Can be paid up front for $499 (savings of $100) or 3 installments of $200 each
12 week commitment necessary to acceptance.

Limited to ten participants.

For more information or to register, call Dr. Nicholas Abraham at 225-767-3200 or email him,

“The story of Easter is the story of God’s wonderful window of divine surprise.” Carl Knudsen

There is such a temptation to intellectualize and even materialize the world of spirit.

We seek to understand. We long to see with our eyes and feel with our hands.

But the world of spirit, which is the invisible foundation of healthy mental attitudes (admittedly, my opinion), cannot be held, touched, seen or even understood through an intellectual pursuit.

It can only be gently accepted by a humble pilgrim who knows that life is but a short yet wonderful gift held in dignity – in and of itself.

The world of spirit is a world of darkness and light, joy and pain, beauty and ugliness. The world of spirit is indeed, a mixed blessing, a power that cannot be contained or owned – it can only be received with open hands and allowed to be blown away by the winds of time and need.

The world of spirit makes no distinction between the glamorous and the deformed. Each person on the wide spectrum of humanity and in the divine’s choice of time and space, is endowed with the power of healing and the gift of teaching. We learn from all people; we are recreated through each relationship, we take from all we meet and we give to all we encounter. Such is the power of human connectedness.

The season of Easter is a world of spirit – a time where the window of one’s soul is opened anew with an anticipation of divine surprise. It is a rich surprise party that celebrates a deep and abiding trust that all is well, and all will be well, even if our physical world tells us differently.

It is a time when joy comes, not in discovering one’s next plan or chapter, not in finding answers to one’s problems and concerns; but rather, in the total dedication of the will to that of the Living, Breathing, ever Loving Author of one’s precious life.

It is to pray the powerful yet simple prayer, Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me. Melt me. Mold Me. Fill me. Use me. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.

It is a time when we once again, choose to accept and authentically reveal our inherent worth and dignity. With such a renewal, a baptism of worth, we are committing to question the false idols we have created in our vain attempt to find security in this passing world. Even with hesitation, shame and fear, we know the truth and we seek to live it – regardless of what the worldly powers say.

Like the blooming azaleas, it is a window of opportunity that comes around once each year – a season when we live each day more aware of the spiritual mission of Jesus, whether we choose to be companions of his or not – a mission that is steeped in non-violence, justice and peace – a mission that in practically every way, is counter to what we hear, see, taste, feel and long for.

It is a world that scandalizes in its embrace of those we hate and scorn – a world that undermines all that we thought to hold dear and raises up all that we held in disdain.

The Easter world is not just any spirit. It has a clear and unambiguous mission that disavows any association with violence, injustice or war. Yet, it moves as an untamed wind – at once a well defined and narrow pathway that paradoxically has no boundaries – a messy, sticky, murky unchartered and unscientific journey- a constant invocation, a request that we be “shown the way”, that we then choose to “walk the pathway shown” and that we “trust the journey more than the goal – one step at a time.”

It is a journey of stepping on injustice and picking up people , resisting glamour and enhancing authenticity, taking off the iron mask of wealth and worldly power and exposing the true self of simplicity, shutting down the world of “doing for the sake of finding love and acceptance” and opening up the world of “being for the sake of authenticity and validation.”

It is a world where all decisions are made in the interest of the anawim, the poor and downtrodden, the invisible, the unjustly treated, the voiceless. It is a world of balancing love of self with love of others, of dignifying the poor within myself and the poor that lives among my spiritual brothers and sisters.

There is probably no other time in our history where the world of the Easter Spirit was more needed more than now.

For we have become drugged by the half truths of headlines whose other half is often buried in the back section weeks later; we have become addicted to the poisonous verdicts of self-declared judges of cable news that feed our drive to create enemies; we have become possessed by the lure of unending technological advances that destabilizes our sense of worth; we have become shamed by the false gods of both corporate advertisers and corporate preachers who feed our self-hatred with “you are not enough as you are” and “your diverse pathways to divine fulfillment are disingenuous.”

It will take nothing less than the Spirit of Easter, nothing more powerful that of the Resurrection itself to stand against these worldly empires.

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me. Melt me. Mold me. Fill me. Use me. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.

Would that this season be a time of renewed melting, molding, filling and using, I believe a wonderful window of divine surprises awaits us – as well as a further glimpse into the Kingdom of God.

Please scroll to the bottom of this post to hear the podcast!

How often do we hear the phrase, “I’ve got too much on my plate.”

And yet, buffets are popping up from town to city, from suburban shopping malls to interstate exits. All you can eat signs have become a far more attractive sound than Fine Dining.

Contradictory though the phrases may be, they signify the ambivalence we live with on a daily basis.

Bombarded with options, from thousands of apps to the immediacy and over-abundance of On-Demand channels, we’ve become a culture on the path of self-destruction through one of the modern and deadliest sins of all – a spiritual bi-polarism that swings us from seeking limitless pleasure for the ego on one hand to self-deprivation and ultimately self-destruction on the other– all as a result of having faced at least once in our lives, the evil of betrayal.

And so rather than honor betrayal and its incredible pain, we wear an iron mask, thinking it will protect us, when all it does is weigh us down.

We’re more overweight than ever before, super-sized and ever expanding our horizon. We’re building storage units on every corner and hoarding has become a reality tv show that has thousands of followers, or should I say “gaukers”. All the while, we’re under-nourished, sleep deprived, underdeveloped socially and starving for intimacy.

We interface with anonymous, faceless and fictitious personas in chat rooms, becoming so obsessed that nights pass like minutes while genuine life purpose starves for attention. We distrust those we work with on a daily basis and enslave our hearts to encounters with strangers.

We don’t need an invasion of body snatchers. They’re already here in the form of competitive gambling with our careers towards chronic depression, comfort eating our way to total discomfort and “moving on up” the tree of workaholism that everyone else but us knows it to be a downward spiral.

It’s a world of opposites that has taken over our souls, leaving us all to wonder why we are so neurotic, so driven to pills to calm our anxiety, so fueled each day from a progressive increase of opiates to keep us “normal”. Anti-depressants have become as household a word as vitamins and of course, there’s always alcohol which if challenged in southeast Louisiana as addictive would receive a resounding chorus of “cease and desist.”

I’m reminded of that classic line from Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment, ”I’m not an alcoholic, I’m Irish.”

Even in religious circles, I am stunned at how often we hear prayers to “fill us with”, “give us more.” We are unceasing in our request to be filled with whatever is the spirit of the moment.

Rarely do we hear prayers that ask of us to empty, to be stripped, to be laid bare, to be naked before the living God. It’s as if our human shame leads us from not only being clothed but being full. Look at the closets and see just how many pieces of clothing seem to give fulfillment and yet are never worn. Check to see how many freezers there are, or how many unnecessary piles of junk lie in closets. Forever saying it’s time to empty out, they just keep accumulating until by the Grace of God and perhaps the aid of Adderall, we organize and discard.

But rare are these moments.

Its’ little wonder we are always on the edge. We move from having too much on our plate, to adding more and more. And when we say “no” to a request, we feel compelled to give an explanation, as if a simple “no” is not good enough, not satisfactory to our need to feel loveable. Saying “no” is just much too hard. Saying “no” risks the threat of anger and bridges burned – and God knows, we might need them sometime. And so it becomes ‘a scratching of each other’s back’ rather than a self-awareness that sets healthy boundaries.

Over the years, when I’ve asked people to make changes in their lives, they immediately assume it means to “add” a behavior or attitude. Rarely does anyone want to hear that there are two keys to mental health. One is replacing a behavior or attitude. The other, and far more challenging, is emptying the behavior and simply being without.

Ask any alcoholic and they’ll tell you it’s easier to smoke a cigarette and drink coffee at a 12 step meeting than to just sit and feel the pain of not having a fix.

I have a great quote in my office that reads, “the happy person is not the one who has the most, but the one who needs the least.”

In a society that focuses on needs and wants (remember the addict’s favorite line is “I want what I want when I want it. . .and I want it now”), it would do us all well to move from a childish way of thinking to a more adult way. And trust me, moving to an adult way is far from easy.

Not long ago, I was shopping in Oxford with my niece and nephew and as we walked each aisle looking to fill the list of necessities, they each found something on each aisle they “wanted.” Calmly and serenely, with liquid grace, I would simply say “it’s just the urgency of the moment.” While thinking I was the nutty shrink Uncle, they nonetheless experienced the frustration and moved on. When we approached the check-out lane, I glanced to the left and saw a slice of heaven – a Starbucks coffee stand, toward which I began making my way, telling my niece and nephew that I would be right back. They were to watch the groceries. No sooner than I had taken 3 steps did they grab my arm and with the serenity I had taught them spoke gently, “It’s alright Uncle Nicky. It’s just the urgency of the moment!”

Talk about rage that I had been caught. Talk about hypocrisy. Talk about shame. Talk about feeling like the cat who ate the canary. But soon enough, we all laughed it off and realized that controlling the urgencies of life was indeed a lifelong journey.

If we adults could be comfortable fighting our urges for more, for the moment to be filled – if we could learn to not only teach delayed gratification, but live within its walls, we could change the face of this society and live with much less, creating a climate where there is plenty for all.

One might call that re-distribution of wealth. Hogwash I say. Sharing a coat when one has 10 in the closet is the quintessence of Christian Charity.

And emptying one’s cupboards, closets, storage centers and shelves just might help us realize happiness really does reside in those who need the least.

Helping people find work and a car to get them to work is far more important to me these days than getting a new one. And No, I am not at all perfect. I’m not ready to give it all up and become St. Francis. But I am ready to spend more time with people who are happy in their skins and not seeking to either cover them or bloat them.

Oh and by the way, emptying the closets doesn’t mean re-filling them. Remember there are two pathways – when we have released our higher selves, we usually get to the half way line and replace. Perhaps we can hit the highest self this year, and score a touchdown by simply being without.

Asking God to empty us rather than to fill us.

In my religious tradition, it’s called fasting. Not a bad idea for both spiritual and mental health. In fact, if we empty ourselves of some of our baggage, including prejudices, resentments, bitterness, superiority and inferiority complexes, to mention a few, it might give a whole new meaning to the “Empty Tomb.”

Please scroll to the bottom of this post to hear the podcast!

I am a member of an extraordinary family – not only do the eight of us, ranging from ages 63 down to 45, enjoy the ongoing support of each other. Our parents also taught us, particularly our Mother, that even in times of stress and emotional negativity, we were brothers and sisters and that nothing was to ever separate us.
Over the years, we’ve had our share of crises. In 1993 at the age of 37 I suffered a nervous breakdown and severe depression. My brothers and sisters were there to support me through the darkest days of my life, nourishing me with not only financial support but more importantly, emotional and spiritual food – the most powerful being unconditional love.
In 1995 my brother, Tommy, husband and Father of two young children, faced his own mortality from a heart problem that led to a pacemaker at the age of 37.
Throughout these and other illnesses that crossed our paths, our Mother was always there with her faith and her love.
Not until recently, however, did I discover the depth of that faith and the impact it would have on us for generations to come.
Shortly after New Year’s, one of my sisters was diagnosed with breast cancer. She would learn a few weeks later that a double mastectomy was necessary.
A few short days later, I was told after two separate PSA’S that there was a 1 in 4 chance I had prostate cancer.
The dreaded “C” word had crashed through the front door of our generation before the New Year’s fireworks had fizzled and like a bandit, made off with our sense of invulnerability.
When I told someone of our condition and the impending circumstances surrounding, many called me a pessimist and urged me to think positive, to be strong in faith. “Breast and prostate cancer are the ones you want if you get it,” I would hear.
I have always had an aversion to this sort of thinking even though I know it’s true; mainly because no matter how positive a spin or picture of faith one can frame , mortality will still come knocking – if not today, then soon thereafter. Life is truly very short – and in an instant, we have moved from a free spirited 19 year old to a 50 year old manifestation of Alfie’s great question, “what’s it all about?”
And so as I continued to wonder as I wandered, I found myself frozen in fear with an impending cloud of doom over my head; that is, until an email message showed up from the “Pace Maker.”
As the shock of the raid on our health, my sister’s in particular, was absorbing our family’s inner strength, my brother Tommy, who I referred to earlier, slowed down our spiraling pace long enough to reflect upon the strength of her faith that he had received 17 years ago. He sent us a letter she had written in 1995.
As they had gotten older, both my parents had suffered from several illnesses; my Mother from a brain aneurysm and my Father from colon/prostate cancer. My Mother lived 17 years beyond her prognosis. My Father, who suffered cancer at the age of 50, and who was given six months to live, is proud to still be singing at 85.
I’d like to share the letter this month, as March always symbolizes hope and the coming of spring. I pray it moves you in whatever way you find worthy of your unique journey through this mortal life.
I send it not to convert anyone to Christianity or to her particular avenue of faith, but because as she aged, she seemed to become almost mystical in her musings about God and life.
I also send it because after reading this 17 year old letter, I was not only grateful to her for writing it. I was equally grateful to Tommy for “saving” it.
For indeed, the dividends of hope are far superior to any bank account drawing interest. Would that our attitude toward what we save in life be more reflective of our spiritual values.
I remind my readers that this letter was written by a woman who suffered much through her developmental years and had only reached an 8th grade formal education.
Dear Tommy,

As I sit here reading my Bible, I came across one verse that helped me most of all when me and Dad got sick.

I thought you might feel the same as I do and look at life’s suffering/sickness differently.

It is one of the great Christian quotations and is found in 2nd Corinthians chapter 12 – where St Paul says “WHEN I AM WEAK THEN I AM STRONG”.. . . . the weaker and older I get Tommy, the stronger I get spiritually. I pray in all things I continue on this path, whatever happens. I use it to praise the Lord of heaven and earth.

I pray you will also use your sickness to make you “better” not worse. Some people become “bitter” I became “Better”. I believe you will become “Better” in all you say & do.

JESUS is my best friend, my best Doctor. I can see him more clearly now because he is LOVE. He has opened my eyes to see, my ears to hear, my heart and tongue to proclaim him Lord, King of Kings through his love on earth.

I believe that Jesus will come again and save us from all evil and all sickness. When he comes he will destroy Satan’s power. Heaven will then be on earth – Luke chapter 21-v 25.

Tommy, no one has ever seen God and no one ever will see him because God is “LOVE” and your eyes cannot see . . . . . . . .one can only see with the heart. Remember to pray always and in everything you do, and never forget to say “THANK YOU JESUS”. You are first in my life no matter what.

Note from my brother Tommy: “She hand wrote this back on Oct.19,1995 when I had to have a pacemaker placed in my heart. . . and I keep it with me in my Bible because that’s where she would have wanted it to be. Every time I read it I just feel so much better because she was such a saint.”

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Nearly ten years ago, our family had to open the door to the angel of death. My Mother had passed away from a brain aneurysm. We buried her on January 3, 2001.

A few short years later, we opened the door yet again to the angel when we sold our childhood home and moved our Father into assisted living.

Upon cleaning out the home and discarding the things of this world, for some reason the many pictures and news clippings were saved and landed in my storage closet, to sit until this time last year.

My Mother had a knack for saving the milestones of her 8 children and 11 grandchildren; stacked high in my closet were 20 albums in which she had saved over the 51 years of her marriage to my Father the proud moments of her life. A devoted Mother and wife, the albums were testimony to what she honored – memories made of those in which she had invested her entire adult life.

I’m not sure what prompted me to pull the 20 albums out of the closet. Not known for completing overwhelming projects or living with a mess in my small dining/living area that would last six weeks, I can only attest to divine intervention.

For pull them I did – two weeks prior to Thanksgiving. With Christmas already on my mind, it was done. Decided. Resolved.

I would make 20 piles of pictures and news clippings – one for each child, grandchild, and of course, my then 84 year old father. This would be my Christmas gift to the family.

No spending of money, no purchasing of more things to clutter homes, no buying into consumerism – no, not last year. That year was to be spent reminiscing, offering up time and emotion, being with my Mother and creating a Christmas gift that came from both my heart and that of hers.

The project took nearly two hours out of each day for the following month, after which time, I then selected from the 20 albums which one would go with each person. It was no small task, as many pictures had more than one of the members in it and I had to carefully balance who would receive what, making the giving fair and impartial.

Once that challenge was met, there was the question of what they would be placed in. An easy one to answer, I realized almost immediately that there was no need to purchase new albums. Why not use the old, I thought, creating another symbol and allowing for another walk down memory lane? You see, my Mother kept the albums in a prominent place of the den, allowing anyone who entered to browse through her family history.

After completing the project, I then wrapped them up nicely and mailed them with the request that they not open this gift until the very end of the Christmas unwrapping ritual.

On Christmas morning, My Father and Sister Angela, who were spending Christmas with me, opened their special gifts and amidst tears, were dumbfounded – speechless – overwhelmed by their life placed before them through the love of their wife and mother.

I can’t even recall what I received for Christmas last year, although I am certain that whatever they were came from the heart of the giver.

What I do recall is the feeling I had in awakening to the reality that all over the country, from Houston to Memphis, my family members were taking delight in a counter-cultural Christmas – a Christmas gift that had a higher price tag than anything else I value – that of time.

The project cost me nearly 50 hours of time – more than a work week. And if I had the chance to do it all over again, I would welcome the opportunity. For few memories are greater than those moments when the calls came – “thank you, Nicky, for an unbelievable gift – a lasting treasure.”

I’m not sure if it made a major difference in their lives, but it certainly reminded me of one of the true meanings of Christmas – a meaning not experienced by spending money, but rather by spending time.

I’m thinking that for the next Christmas gift to my loved ones, I will take them all on a cruise, asking them to avoid spending money on gifts and taking it with them to enjoy with the family.

Because of the price of taking 20 or more (some are marrying) on a cruise, it might be another five years before it occurs. And I say, so? I’d rather look forward to that than to simply spend on the moment.

Retailers will certainly reject my reasoning behind last year’s gift, as it does nothing to promote society’s values. But then again, many say Christianity is supposed to be counter cultural. Whether or not that is true, I know that such giving fulfilled, nourished, and added to my understanding of Christmas.

You might be asking, “Did you make an album for yourself of your memories?” to which I respond, “No”. They’re all stuffed in a box in the same closet, to be pulled out on Black Friday. When everyone else is looking for bargains, I intend to spend it with my Mother and her memories of me growing up.

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On July 3rd, 2009, my left retina detached, leaving me the prospect of having only one eye with which to see the world. After 4 surgeries, hope for restored vision transferred to hope for continued vision in the second. And while disturbed by the loss, I adapted rather effortlessly to the reality of one eye.

Nearly two years later, I awakened on August 10th with what appeared to be minor but nonetheless distorted vision. Thinking that it was time for a new and stronger prescription, I made the appointment and went to see the Ophthalmologist the next day.

The good eye worsened that next morning and by the time I had arrived, I could not see the paperwork that needed to be filled out. I knew without a doubt my right retina was detaching.

The Doctor took a look and informed me that my retina was indeed detaching and that I needed to see a retina specialist immediately.

One hour later I was in with the specialist and an hour later I was having blood drawn and an EKG performed, preparing myself for surgery the next day.

August 12th is still a blur, no pun intended. All I remember is that friends and neighbors took over and made sure that I got to where I needed to be and all appointments were cancelled until further notice.

Life had turned yet once again on a dime and adaptation was the name of the game – survival was the goal.

For nearly two months I could barely see, wearing the strongest reading glasses available and reading the morning newspaper with both glasses and a magnifying glass. It took well over an hour to read selected articles so I had to get up at 5 am in order to have time to prepare for work.

Everything slowed down during that time and I moved both intentionally and carefully. I had entered the world of the disabled.

Upon one of the subsequent visits to the specialist, I was informed that further laser treatment was necessary to provide what he called “insurance.”

Waiting and reflecting upon life as a disabled person and dependent on the kindness of friends, I learned to live without television, replacing it with music and telephone conversations. Realizing that one of the things so taken for granted, the ability to read, might never be fully restored, I chose to be very discriminating not only with what I read, but also on what I would spend the waking hours.

As the world sped up, I was slowing down.

I didn’t really break down however, until one morning, when I was standing near the bed, looking at the alarm clock. It was a total blur and I couldn’t see the magnified letters from two feet away. Picking up the clock, I began to cry as I worked my poor vision to make out the time.

I cried and I cried – and yet I never asked “why me”. I just wept, feeling the loss and asking for God’s help through this latest gift.

What could I learn? How could I change? In what ways would I become a better, more compassionate human being? What was life’s lesson in this latest classroom? How could I utilize the advances in technology to assist me and allow me to live an even fuller life.

For truly, one can have the greatest vision in the world and still not see.

Which is why I asked for “insight”, a different way of seeing. During my stint with blindness I asked for a vision of acceptance, gratitude, understanding, patience, empathy and courage.

On Tuesday, October 4th, I was told the oil could be taken out – hopefully, the retina not only attached but the laser had added a protective shield.

I smiled, thinking if only life were as simple as putting up shields to protect us from harm – but the starship Enterprise I am not.

By late afternoon, the oil was out and I was home after the sixth time on the surgical table (each surgery had a second one, at which time the oil was taken out).

I came home crying yet again, mainly from the joy that hope was still alive. The doctor had given me a good prognosis and said that in a few days I should have restored vision, perhaps not 20/20 but certainly close.

Apparently, I didn’t hear “the few days” part and went home despairing that I still could not see.

The next day I awoke and yet again, the alarm clock was blurry. I continued to take the drops as prescribed and got a ride to work as usual, barely able to see.

I began to doubt my ability to recover as well as the assurances of the doctor.

That night, I went to bed, seeing a bit better but still not at all clearly – there sat the alarm clock – and here sat a nearly blind man who could not tell time without a magnifying glass.

Waking up my usual 5 am, I got up, put on the robe and proceeded to go get a cup of coffee. I had given up on reading the paper. I sat for a couple of hours in meditation, reflecting on all the great Broadway shows I had seen, the many cities I had experienced, the great buildings I had walked through, the magnificence of natural wonders such as the Grand Canyon.

Upon returning to the bedroom to get showered, it happened. Standing on the bedroom’s threshold, I looked at the alarm clock across the room and dropped my coffee.

As clear as one could see, there it was – 7:17 am. I could see.

I fell to my knees in utter amazement and wept, this time for joy. My vision had returned almost overnight – the doctor was correct – “in a few days I would see much better.”

Never in my life will I forget that time – it is etched on my heart, in my mind, and even more so, within my eyes.

Never again in my life will I take anything for granted, including the loss of sight – for even that can be a blessing.

I am still moving slower and more intentionally – still reading what matters, still watching very little television, still enjoying the resetting of life’s default through this latest chapter of my life.

All that I ask of those who are able to read this article is this; every morning for the next month, or for the rest of your life, stop at 7:17 am and be grateful for your vision – and pray that you not only see with your physical eyes but also with your spiritual eyes.

Find out more about Dr. Nick at his website at: www.nickabraham.net

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In this episode Dr. Nick takes us through looking inward by having a deep knowledge about ourselves, actions and beliefs. He provides a wonderful example of how everyone can use the 12 steps in our lives. He goes into detail on how we can resolve conflicts in areas of our lives. When you listen to this episode be open to learning about this spiritual exercise that anyone can experience. After this episode you will find that this has provide you an incredible tool that you can use for managing life. Let’s explore as Dr. Nick helps make a better you and ultimately a better us.

They may help you resetting your own default response.

1. Take your own inventory. It promotes a return to personal power-taking an inventory not only mistakes but resources

My:
• Choices
• Behavior
• Attitudes

2. One day at a time
• Tendency to want to be overwhelmed by the future
• Drama
• One decision at a time focuses it
• One step at a time

3. Don’t Be Dramatic
• Victimized
• Perpetrator
• Daily Investment real not drama, no clutter, self directed goal
• Dividends of serenity

4. No cross talk
• People want to talk immediately
• Don’t get caught up in other people’s conversation
• Everyone can express themselves
• Listening without responding
• Staying mindful/our thought

5. Admit mistakes
• Close down the war lid before it opens nip by confronting your mistakes
• I’m sorry is powerful – we’re human!
• Accept apologize and move on
• Saying I’m sorry is important but mean it.

6. Just show up
• The greatest things that happen to you is when you show up
• Allow moments to be a teacher
• Freeing – home, workplace, school

7. Accept the imperfections of life
• Should, Always, Never – not human
• Don’t “should” on ourselves!
• We’re not going to get to protection
• Our ego doesn’t like mistakes

8. Sponsorship – I believe in you!
• Mentors
• Loved
• You trust
• Protecting

9. Make the right choice and leave the results to the higher power
• If I do this, what will happen?
• Make the right choice
• If you make a mistake, learn from it!
• Believing in something larger

10. It works if you work it
• Work the self
• Work the growth
• Take life in and it will has meaning
• Rest ego-take a break. Work the self

11. Anonymity
• I’m human-no title
• No over/under
• Same rights

12. Take what you need and leave the rest
• This I need to take
• That I don’t need to take

We all only have one life to live, it’s not enough to just survive…Reset Your Default and Thrive!

Thank you for joining me for this episode. Please join me again for my next show that will post on December 4, 2011. You can also visit my website for more information at: www.nickabraham.net

Dr. Nick