True Self Control

Is it weird that I’m so domesticated now? It really wasn’t that long ago that the wild animal in me ran rampant and untamed. Now it’s a different story. I think it’s a better one too… but how can I really know for sure?

On another note: I find it fascinating to watch my not-quite 2-year-old daughter buckle herself into the highchair. Sometimes she’ll do it with the carseat straps too. There was a time earlier, when she was just getting big enough to sit on her own, that she fought those clicks that meant confinement.

In the morning, just a couple hours from now, I’ll be working on breakfast and JoJo will want to sit in her chair. She won’t let me connect the plastic latch, oh no… SHE has to do it.

It must be in our human nature to want to harness and control ourselves, the routines of our day and our lives. We want to be in charge of things and do it our own way.

Funny though, the straps on her breakfast chair, are a restriction. This safety feature keeps her locked down and stops her from crawling all over our bar and reaching the things we keep at a distance from her grabby hands…

She might whine about being stuck in there sometimes. She herself clicked the lock. It’s such a perfect metaphor for life in general. I suppose the symbolism will only get more elaborate and layered when she learns to open it too, and risks a possible fall.

When I dive deep into conspiracies and fall into never-ending rabbit holes on the internet, I look to the immediate world around me and see if I find proofs of any type. This seemingly natural bend toward self-domestication seems to help prove some far-fetched theories.

I have my daughters best interest at heart, when I use the safety straps on her highchair. She’s helping herself when she takes charge and locks herself in. I wonder then how this relates to the areas where I fasten and clamp down on myself instead of being mentally, physically or spiritually free?

Where have I drawn my own boundaries and who is it always helping? Hopefully it’s for my own good. I wonder though upon deeper inspection, where I might want to reevaluate. Just keeping routine for routine’s sake, can’t always be good. Maybe I don’t always benefit from more and more sedentary domestication.

At some point Joella will have to graduate and let go of always having a seatbelt wherever she sits. She would look funny to be my age someday and still wanting to be strapped into a plastic chair, just for sausage and eggs in her own kitchen.

Until next week my friends, stay open to those areas where it’s time to graduate, to engage the next gear, and leave behind the unnecessary straps holding you back.

God Bless


Aaron Nichols

A Fix for Impossible

There was a normal-day moment back in the early 80’s. It was just like lots of other days, I assume.  As it is for me now, there was household of two little kiddos, there was a beautiful young wife. There was this seemingly ordinary-day, in May, when my Dad didn’t know it was the last time he’d see his family.

Today is that anniversary, and yet it’s just another day for us, here, now. It’s a reminder on the calendar, but the headlines aren’t new news. 1983 was a long time ago. The shock has faded, life has been lived on, joys and sorrows of many kinds have passed since then.

On some of these yearly anniversaries, I’ve wondered what I’m supposed to be doing… At different points in my life, I handled it different ways. I might have visited the cemetery. I probably had a drink in his honor. I certainly spent some upset about everything… This one though feels different.

I once heard a quote about how problems are really never solved. The original one escapes me, but it sounded similar to this sample:

“Problems aren’t solved; The dissolve as you evolve.” – Derek Rydall

The idea that somebody could solve the ‘problems’ of losing their father at a young age, is a little preposterous. Nonetheless, I know I spent many years in that pursuit; trying in vain to somehow restore a percieved inner broken universe to imaginary perfection. This endeavor exasperated and exhausted the tender emotional filaments coursing through every dimension of my being…

And again, today is May 21st, the chronological recurrence cycling through, whether it’s welcomed or not.

What if though, that quote had merit. What if these so-called problems couldn’t truly be solved. How does one evolve, in order to make them dissolve?

I don’t know about the exact how. There isn’t any step by step template. I do find it true, just the same.

An anniversary can be a reminder, but it doesn’t have to be negative. I don’t have to just wallow in the pit. I could enjoy the day with a simple choice, to relax into the good things around me. Blessings have always been there, and they continue to arrive. I admit that the three ladies of my life, make it easier than ever to notice. However, if we look for them, gifts are all around at all times.

Could a ‘bad-day’ anniversary from the past, be just a normal-day now? Could it even be a ‘good-day’ or dare I say great? Part of me still holds on to a belief that re-creating some misery, is paying homage to this person I lost… I wonder though, if Dad’s bright spirit, would rather I enjoy it somehow, some way, even on the annivesary of his bad day?

Safe to say, that yes, the evolution of life, through its problems in-spite of them and with microscopic but constant growth toward the light, beats the impossible games of fixing the past.  I write this note to myself, as a reminder, to reflect on. Believe me, there are still plenty of anniversaries where I forget to smile.

Until next week my friends, remember that: “It’s okay to really enjoy life, right now, under these exact circumstances” (a quote by a 31 year old) – Aaron Nichols


(38 year old) Aaron Nichols

Thinking too Freely

I’ve been accused, plenty of times and well deserved too. There is proof right here. This blog itself is an expression of it. Recently while telling the tales naming our new baby it was brought up again.

I over-analyze. I think too much.

It’s not quite an insult, right?

Let’s look at the spectrum: I don’t see how never thinking at all could be a good thing. I don’t believe that I’m the most accomplished expert over-thinker on the planet. However, it’s probably true that I land somewhere beyond a healthy and balanced brain-operator. Over-revving the overdrive is my usual mental transmission gear of choice.

To stand back and ponder on the results of this character flaw, I can see why it causes issues. Laid-back and go-with-the-flow I ain’t .

When someone wants to hold onto their unhealthy habits and rationalize away any thoughts of painful changes, the mind offers excuses easily!

I analyze in order to improve! I dissect to avoid future issues. I chew and grind on a thought for hours or days so that I find it’s innermost kernel of conceptual value. With my unending pursuit of scrutiny and evaluation, I really know where the issues lie. I can’t be hoodwinked with delusions and false impressions!

Ha! What a delusion it is to believe my own excuses!

My mind doesn’t just come up with justifications for my excessive over-thinking, no it doesn’t stop there. I can pile up page after page of reasons that I am just the exact way that I am about everything in my life. The good, the bad and yes the very truly ugly!

In a nutshell, it’s as ifmy ego has trained my brain to constantly curate an exact personality that allows my flaws to continue unobstructed! With this perfect system, the uncomfortable pressure of expansion and growth is traded for the tension and aggravation of stagnation!

But don’t worry about me. I eventually have come to terms with the name of our new baby. It didn’t kill me to get there, but it was a little difficult. If you have an extra 20 minutes to listen to my story sometime, ask me about it. Then you can be the judge and decide if my over analyzations are fatal or not.

As a sober person, I miss that sweet mental release that occurs with the crack of a cold beer can. Now it’s just me and ma’ brain, without substances to scrub it free of extraneous thoughts. Oh well, when I look at those two sweet daughters of mine, and my amazing wife, that have all come since sobriety, I know without any doubts what is working better for me.

Until next week my friends, ponder and think deeply, but not too deeply. These mental rabbit holes don’t have room for us all 🙂

God Bless,


Aaron Nichols


Ha! In Awe!

What’s the point again? Of putting these words on this page?

Oh Yeah! I like to make things, I’m crafty.  Designing, writing and cooking are ways that I can express my creativity.

Ha! Creativity! Ha! Creation! Ha! Me, making something!?!?!?

Folks, get real.  I just witnessed again the amazing delivery of my second child! That is creation!

I am still in awe. The radiance of the miracle is nuclear!

I really don’t have words. They won’t arrive through my fingers.

It’s my wife! Her moment of absolute creativity is now. Her artistry and divinity are on display in our home. Two shining little countenances, so sweet, our love produced. I’m too in love with her, and our daughters, to be much good in this space, right now.

Later, when the invigoration has settled and the miraculous almost seems like normal life again, I’ll try for you and for me, to make a blog post worthy to read.

Take care my friends. Notice the miraculous, there’s nowhere it’s not. Thank God for it All!


Aaron Nichols

A Big Little Boy Lives Here

That sweet little angel of ours threw something this morning. She threw it right in my face! It was big and loud, it was a three-alarm Hissy Fit! My precious daughter let loose, with a red-faced screecher!

Yeah, yeah, it was warranted. She had every right to be upset. I had obviously been waaay in the wrong, when I didn’t let her take her breakfast to eat in front of the television. She had a perfect spot picked out on her pink kiddy couch. It was obviously going to be an awesome way to enjoy her oatmeal until I ruined her great idea. How dare I!

Something occurred inside my mind while it was trying to batten down the hatches and shut out the volume roaring from her mad little face. I noticed a familiarity to her tone. I didn’t like hearing her sounds at that time, but yet I had to look inward and realize a truth…

She sounded just like me!

Ha! I know you’re probably thinking that it would be a little strange to watch me throwing myself around on the floor, crying and gasping and pausing in between wails of frustration. I will admit that not getting to eat in front of the TV probably wouldn’t set off a major temper tantrum for me, but there are other seemingly silly things that can.

The reason her outrageous crying seemed to resemble dear ol’ dad, is that sometimes I fear that I haven’t really found better ways of dealing with problems than throwing a fit about them. Sad I know, but true. Now my 38 year-old fits are a little different from a toddlers’. I have a deeper voice and I use actual words instead of shrieking and bawling… usually.

Truly though, I find that when tensions are rising and irritations are mounting, I can snap. I’ll sink knee deep into an emotional outburst in a flash. There are some people reading these lines right now probably shaking their heads like, ‘Uh Huh, That’s For Sure!”

Anyway, I did laugh at myself today watching her go off. She has already found a mechanism by which she can try to force her way. It’s a VERY persuasive tactic! I didn’t give in though, and eventually we had a nice breakfast up at the bar-top, where we always do, with only the radio on, like we always do. It turned out fine.

The moral to me, is that when you really break it down, there isn’t a lot of difference between how I tend toward outbursts and how she did today. I’d like to think that I have higher levels of maturity, I can navigate treacherous situations with sound compassionate reason and detachment from outcome. Ha, really that’s a load of gar-bage!

Actually, I think the truth is that I’ve been quite blessed. I have been fortunate that people around me, must’ve seen that same infancy and ridiculousness in my tantrums that I saw in hers. I felt sorry that she was so upset, but I didn’t take on her outrage over the situation. For all my chest beating and primate howling, the people around me probably saw a little boy, a brat, in a big ol’ body, throwing a fit.

I have been the antagonist in a bunch of conflicts. Even in the last few years. I’ve seen though, that the best versions of those conversations happened without any yelling, without high heart-rates, they have been fewer than I’m proud of, but usually they end with a hug. So it must be possible, even with me.

I hug my little girl a lot. She’s teaching me so much every day. I found out this morning, that I’m too much like her sometimes, and I’d like her to be less like me in certain ways too.

Until next week, count your blessings for they outnumber the curses by far.


Aaron Nichols

A flaw in the practice of Easter Worship

It’s the practice of this thing, this writing thing, that matters. It’s the returning to, and the stepping again forward on this continued path, that seems worthy. I doubt it’s the concepts or the drilled-down specific points that I’ve typed out over the years that hold real weight. I want to keep open a channel for expression, in case something important or profound arrives through me.

It’s these moments, late at night, of simple contemplation, that nourish me. It’s the resting steady focus for a few fleeting minutes per week that I must enjoy. On this Good Friday, at this Easter moment, I ponder in these early morning hours, the act of Worship.

See, I am really really REALLY good at worship!

It’s true. I can pretty much worship in the morning, or while I’m at work and before bed too. I probably worship in my sleep sometimes.

On a weekend like Easter, worshiping revolves around the crucifixion and the Resurrection of Jesus. For all dedicated worshipers this is the Big One!

The only slight problem for me, is that my skillz at worship, don’t always have to do with the Father, the Son or the Holy Ghost… Oops.

I know, I know, somebody in the last few years, probably said something behind my back, like I’ve become some kind of a Jesus-Freak! Just because I’m not a raging party animal every weekend, I’m probably stuck nose deep in the Bible from dawn to dusk, or as much as possible… right?

Well, TBH (to be honest) I’m probably so much less freaky about Jesus, that it’s embarrassing. My behavior and vocabulary can be so not church appropriate, yet I maintain my previous statement.

I’m awesome at worshiping!!!

The only little issue, is that my worship is too often pointed in the wrong direction. I am so quick to idolize and be fascinated by the shiny trinkets of the world around me. A new thread of YouTube videos can suck me in for weeks on end. I become almost instantly devoted and throw myself completely into new distractions all the time.

This truth relates to my relationship with a simple practice like a glass of inky-dark room-temp Malbec blooming in my hand at the end of a long work day. I could become entranced and dedicated to the vino itself. I would want to identify myself with it. I’d find it at the center of my discussions. I might throw myself, mind, body and soul into an idolatry of alcohol. I could sincerely mean words like LOVE in relation to a rotten grape…

In that worldly kind of worship, I’m masterful!

To this day, even through a few years of sobriety, focusing on creating a church life for myself and my family, I struggle to love Jesus, like I do the tangible things of the world.

So broken spiritually, I sit here in the middle of the night. Playing again the keys of this mental piano, sounding thoughts onto the lcd screen. I maintain that somewhere on the journey, the meaning of this act will be revealed.

I will attempt this weekend for split seconds, longer moments, then maybe minutes on end, to worship the one true God. I remind myself right now, that in the Resurrection, my many sins have been redeemed. The detestable idolatry I commit daily, in worship of almost everything but God, has miraculously been wiped away. In this event, things that cannot be done, were done, through love.

Until next week my friends, in small ways practice a contemplative worship . If you dare, ask yourself what it is that really deserves your worship and what doesn’t.


Aaron Nichols

The mouth to mind ratio

Surely you’ve heard this quote. “Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.”

I find it convicting and confounding within this certain context. (Basically, what I think it means)

  1. The discussion of ideas to me refers to universal truths, the nature of spirituality, principals of philosophy and consciousness or existence itself. THE eternal questions humans have always wrestled with.
  2. The discussion of events would be like the evening news, or the local news. It’s the actions of individuals or nations or the weather. The range could also include physical things, and materialism.
  3. The discussion of people would be gossip; judgmental conversations about third parties…

Well, maybe these are the meanings behind this quote, or maybe they’re not. I can’t be sure, not my quote. In fact, the quote itself is attributed to a couple different people including Eleanor Roosevelt and Hyman Rickover.

Whoever said it, they might agree with my breakdown. If they did, and if they followed me around in my day to day life, they would probably describe my mind as small with flashes of average. It’s strange though because I fancy myself, not as a great mind, but as someone deeply fascinated by ideas, and uninterested, even detested by so much else.

It’s my personal time, spent on Youtube or podcasts, where I consume my philosophy. My headphones are never tuned to popular music or radio, but often to the voice of a wise Rabbi. I love learning about the spiritual fabric of this thing we call the world around us. A debate on consciousness or ethics can captivate me for hours without any boredom. Yet I talk to almost no one about these things.

It’s just the stuff, it’s a ballgame on, and it’s an easy stab at someone’s obvious shortcomings… That’s what I choose to talk to others about. How small minded that is… how true this quote looks through my own eyes.

I wonder if or when it will be that I might mature? I wonder if growth and mental expansion will transfer this secret love of mine, from my inner world, or these few words online, to an actual conversation with a real human being?

Talking about wider concepts, questioning the reality of existence or where our thoughts come from, is so intriguing. But I hardly ever say that aloud.

I must thank my wife though, for entertaining me and my haywire ideas. She will go there, she will listen, she hears me out and challenges me too. One best friend, the best kind of best friend, my spouse, is open to my meandering mind. For that, I’m greatly appreciative.

For everyone else, I’m sorry. I’m not really giving you my whole self when we talk. I’ll keep it simple, and shallow and small-minded, but not because I like it that way. I’m just too afraid to try and go deeper. I apologize for that.

Until next week, let your great mindedness blossom, step away from the average, drop the small stuff like a bad habit, and thank God, for the breath within you speak from your heart.


Aaron Nichols

My Danged Double Life

It’s the hoo-rah and the ya-hoo of St. Patrick’s Day that proved to me, the value of Gridlock.

Working hour after hour at our bar, on the day when everyone seemed to be letting loose, I was tightening up. All the party people were dressed in green with big smiles and if I had one, it was most likely fake.

A Friday of St. Patty’s is surely the most annoying day ever, to be Sober.

I’ve heard it said that the Framers of our nation’s Constitution, designed Gridlock into the structure of the Republic. They wanted to make it difficult and arduous to make big changes. They saw value in standoffs between ideas. Immobility allows for security even. I felt the pain of that truth while sipping Sierra Mist instead of Scotch yesterday afternoon.

If Gridlock isn’t the default position of our nation’s leadership, then what would be the alternative? I guess it would mean that whatever idea had currently taken hold, could enact vast sweeping change. Any current administration could radically alter and reinvent our country however they saw fit. Without checks and balances, the core construct of the system couldn’t survive.

How could a peaceful transfer of power occur, say from Republican to Democrat, if the probability was that it would never be returned again. We have to hold hope, as a divided nation, that our ideas will have a chance again to be heard, no matter who holds the office today. Otherwise we’d have civil wars, instead of elections.

In my early thirties, I experienced an internal shift of power within my own being. My priorities changed, I wanted to try a new way of living. As part of the new internal personal regime, I began to attempt sobriety from alcohol.

That was 5 and a half years ago, but it seems like just yesterday. Before that moment, I was a much different person. I whole heartedly belonged to the Party of Parties! I was committed and engaged and a die-hard. I loved to drink and socialize and laugh too loud.

The changes I’ve made have been strong enough to keep me dry up until today. However, there is still a democracy battling for power within. The proverbial angel on one shoulder and devil on the other, are at war in the space between. They are both tough. They both fight hard. Their blows and punches at each other can wear me out.

St. Patrick’s Day left them both bloodied and bruised, neither seeming to gain ground on the other.

This Gridlock must then somehow be healthy. Without the vote and voice of my better self and my baser self, I surely wouldn’t be here today. I couldn’t have tried out sobriety, as a life sentence. The way I approach it is that I just skip drinking for today. And that method invites temptation to bark at the door, to scratch and paw, to break in, and attack in beastly ways.

Work is involved. Daaaaaaaammit.

The battle isn’t on my shoulders and out of my control. It’s all within my own jurisdiction. It’s up to me, to feel disdain for this jolly holiday, or to join it, and let go of my personal achievement.

I have to thank God for the help, but God isn’t pardoning me from any responsibility. That’s not real help. He didn’t give me this fish. I have to get my freakin’ pole out every day and cast a line.

So there. I truly hope you had a great St. Patty’s day. Whether you imbibed or abstained, I hope it was fun. Luckily for me, even though it didn’t feel fun, I was supported by my loving wife. She could tell I fought hard to stay straight. I appreciate her so much.

So, the Gridlock paid off again. Any amendments to my personal constitution are going to take more of a challenge than green beer.

Until next week my friends; be well. I wish You the very best.


Aaron Nichols

These moments remind me of this poem I learned from my Uncle Steve.

The Double Life

How very simple life would be
If only there were two of me
A Restless Me to drift and roam
A Quiet Me to stay at home.
A Searching One to find his fill
Of varied skies and newfound thrills
While sane and homely things are done

By the domestic Other One.
And that’s just where the trouble lies;
There is a Restless Me that cries
For chancy risks and changing scene,
For arctic blue and tropic green,
For deserts with their mystic spell,
For lusty fun and raising Hell
But shackled to that Restless Me
My Other Self rebelliously
Resists the frantic urge to move.

~ by Don Blanding


Too free of speech

“Damn, dilution is a powerful force.” I thought that as I watched pages of neon paper curl out of the laser printer in our office, one by one, this evening. These kids’ menus will be important sheets that show off chicken strips, hot dogs and cheeseburgers along with crayon artwork. It took about 5 minutes for 150 of them to pile up…

Back in the late 90’s I went to school to learn about graphic design. In those classes we were taught some now extinct skills. We used stock pages of photo-ready lettering and artwork to literally cut (with scissors or knife) and paste (with the hot wax roller) together a newsletter layout. The result of our paper surgery was laid on a vacuum plate in front of a process camera. We shot and developed the large-format film. Then the negatives were exposed onto metal plates covered in light blue emulsion that we rinsed away in a solvent bath…

Then we were able to mount the plates onto a basic sheet-fed one-color offset printing press. When powered on, the metal plate would spin and clunk and click in rhythym while beginning to cover the rubber drum with a sticky wet inked image. Pull a lever and the suction cups would lift and deliver the top sheet to the spinning cylinders. A quick ride around and out the other side, the 8 ½” x 14” page would arrive with our newsletter on one side.

If you wanted to have a back side to it, you could start the whole thing over again from the beginning.

A very complicated process like this actually changed the world in the 1400’s… That was when Gutenberg printed the Bible. It was the beginning of a massive shift and it happened because words could be reliably ‘painted’ onto thin leafy vellum.

Today, I’m guessing that almost every single person reading this blog has a ‘printing press’ in their own homes. Our inkjet or laser printers are so incredibly more advanced, simple and accessible than their great-great grandparents, the screw press with movable type.

Is everyone with a ‘printing press’ in their home changing the future of humanity with it? Do the machine’s capabilities automatically translate into transformation for our culture?? It seems almost the opposite doesn’t it? Printing presses are one of the most common office or home items and yet huge breakthroughs don’t spit out of them all.

When there was very few machines like this and it took a lot of work, The Bible, the word of God, made history. It’s the content on the page, not the page itself or even the breakthrough process that did.

The whole of Earth is now flooded with printing presses. With this kind of dilution and overloading of the ability to embed words onto paper, we seem to be doing less importance with it. The normality of the astonishing technology at our fingertips renders it weaker than ever.

The deluge of information coming across our screens and therefore eyes, washes away the value of the headlines, the posts and the sentiments we are consuming. Doesn’t it?

Maybe if it took hard manual labor for weeks on end to record and publish an idea, we would invest more effort into it. Here, in this example, I just plopped down for an hour and fifteen minutes in the middle of the night to string together some words for you and for me.

It’s probably too easy, to really make a difference, and that may be the problem itself.

Until next week, be amazed my friends, and be vigilant in case the next big shift wants to arrive through You.

God Bless 🙂


Aaron Nichols

Protesting, The Wall, Being a Dirty Baby

So my daughter is a protestor. It’s so trendy now, even for the littlest of kids. I guess it’s bound to happen, with the cultural climate, as it is. Luckily, her objections that I’m writing about here, aren’t as militant as some can be.

Every morning lately, during her bath time, I announce that ‘It’s Time to Wash UP!’ As I am preparing her pink scrubby with watermelon soap, she is mounting the protest. It’s a peaceful one, almost without any noise at all.

On my ‘wash-up’ cue, she has begun a pattern of grabbing the shower curtain, and ducking underneath it. Then she is sheltered between the inner and outer curtain. She just sits still in quiet defiance of the wad of soapy suds I’m wielding at her. It’s a pretty cute actually, and it made me realize something today.

JoJo is exercising and expressing her individual preference in relation to the washing portion of bath time. She has no problem with the beginning of the process. She is usually happy to be stripped down and plopped into the tub. She plays and carries on for awhile without issues. After the scrubbing and rinsing, she is back to blowing bubbles and splashswimming in place.

It’s easy to understand she won’t participate completely willingly in the cleaning. She also doesn’t completely melt down, but a few wimpers and squeaks will be her only cries. At least for this last few day period, she submits to it, but is clearly showing me her feelings on the matter with her, insta-hiding tricks.

For our entire lives, we curate and develop an intricate web of personal boundaries. The beginnings of which probably look something like this example with our kiddo. We are the ones who ultimately choose the flexibility or rigidity of our boundary lines, when it comes to actions we engage in. We have tons of control and therefore responsibility to make split-second or long-term decisions on what we will participate in, endorse, allow, require or fight for and against.

Maybe one definition of our personality would be a long list of these boundaries and choices that we have created a unique pattern with, and that others know us by. It is fun to watch this little human grow in front of my eyes and show me truths about the larger concepts of consciousness and existence.

We obviously start young with the development of expressing our opinions to world. I wonder about my own life and inner stances. Do I hold myself highly accountable to examine my boundaries? Where and why, do I tend to protect and stand fast? Where do I let blow free in the breeze, my own involvements and interactions?

I think Joella is probably just doing now what feels good. It feels fun to play and splash. It’s less pleasant to be swabbed all over and then soaked down with a shower wand, like the family dog. I get that. It’s not the most enjoyable part of bathing.

However, it’s also necessary and healthy to be cleaned up once in a while. It’s probably more fun in the big picture to be a sweet smelling clean-faced little tyke, than a stinky tot covered in sticky breakfast goo from head to toe.

Right now, I help her make those decisions. I do what I think is best, even if she’s showing me it’s not her thing…

For myself though? I might not always look close enough at the consequences. I might fall into a trap, and act like my little girl. I might choose to do what feels good, instead of what is good for me. In fact, I know I do it. Probably more than I care to admit.

As far the things I protest against? Hmm… how about giving up my selfishness, being the most helpful husband I can be, or letting another peanut M&M remain in the bright yellow heavy plastic sack. Although I’d like to tell you that I hold tight to my disciplines of goal setting and life-mapping and spiritual development, I’d be lying to claim it.

These are just a few examples of boundaries that I need to re-evaluate. Some walls need built and reinforced at all costs. Some need torn down and removed altogether. But that’s just me, just the choices I’ve made up to this point, and it can and will change soon, it always does.

Just as our darling daughter shows us, the change is rapid and unpredictable. Maybe this time next week, her protesting will be overpowering. If you see her hair matted in oatmeal and the remnants of toast crumbs and jelly on her cheeks late in the day, you’ll know what is going on. 🙂

Until next week my friends, invest energy in the examination of your own boundaries. Reestablish your personal sovereignty. Remind yourself, that you have lots of choice in this life. Not as master of circumstances, but of your responses to them.


Aaron Nichols