What are you afraid of?

What scares you most?

How does the fear feel? In your body? Your mind? Your heart?

What quells the fear, if anything?

When I was little, I was afraid of my parents and some other not-so-nice authority figures in my young life.

I learned to fear water because of some not-so-nice experiences in and with it, learned to fear dogs for the same reason.

But I kept going back to my spirit—which told me that there was nothing to fear–that I was not like those who I feared and that I could surpass any fear, person, and situation, and find joy and inner peace.

I was afraid of losing—both on the skating rink and on the tennis court.

I was afraid of getting a B.

I was afraid of touching my toes because of my “bad back” (commencing at age 11—oh my!) and of disappointing my parents in any way, shape, or form.

I didn’t come into life with these fears. They were taught to me.

But again and again, I kept going back to my center—to my spirit—and remembering who I was. Again and I again, I said with intention and determination “I will find joy.”

When I was 14 my best friend was addicted to the soap opera “General Hospital.” I heard through a friend of a friend when and where one of the characters was getting married (in real life), and I crashed the wedding, with my best friend in tow. We hung out with that General Hospital cast—fearless–munching apps and coming up with various answers to the question “Now, how do you know the bride/groom?”

A triumph not only for my best friend, but also for myself. I faced my fear. And it felt good.

Last week I taught myself to swim freestyle. I watched in awe as one of my friends swam it effortlessly and gracefully—back and forth, back and forth—and was inspired.

I love to be inspired. What a great feeling!

Inspiration is a taste of the PURE POTENTIAL that you are.

I set my intention, donned my 11-year-old’s goggles, and set to the water.

100 laps/day, three days later, I was swimming the crawl. Not as gracefully as my friend—not yet—but I could make it one whole lap. My goal!

Now swimming is fun and I can’t get enough. This morning Philippe and I swam to the other side of Crystal Lake—and back. 30 minutes straight of swimming and with no wall to cling on to out of fear. Now THAT felt good.

So what am I saying? That I’m the best ever because I’ve faced a lot of fear–and then some–and let it all go?

Not at all.

What I’m saying is that we all have fears. It’s human nature. Whether we walked into this world with them, they were self taught, or taught to us by others, they’re there, Sister.

The question is, are you going to walk around with them, day after day? Are you going to carry that load?

It’s oh-so-heavy.

Boy do I know.

Facing fear frees us. It ignites our life force—our PRANA. With every fear I face and let go of, I get a little lighter, a little happier, and a little more fun. It’s fun to be fun, and to have fun. Fun is where it’s at. And the amazing and great thing is that thanks to THE LAW OF ATTRACTION (Abraham-hicks.com), the more fun you have, the more wonderful things you magnetize into your life.

How’s that for incentive?

When my 11-year-old was in Kindergarten, she was asked to describe her Mom (and Dad) in three words. Her words for her Dad were: “He likes pizza.” : ) Her words for me were: “Fun, fun, fun.”

A better compliment I could not ask for.

So what are you afraid of? And what can you do about it—today?

Supermom Laura Rich:

I’m the single mother of 12 year old twin girls and a 10 year old boy. Other than some minor stress this weekend when my son changed the language on my iPod to German and my daughter went to lacrosse practice without her mouth guard, I can’t say they give me much trouble. I’d love to regal you with stories of a single mom dating on Match.com or try to impress you with the amount of chaos I endure single handedly on the home front, but I’m not really all that unusual or impressive.

More important are the 2000 kids that I take care as a pediatrician. Frequently now they’re coming with a new type of mother. She’s bright and takes her role as mother very seriously. She does not want to be told what to do with her children. She does her own research and makes her own decisions regarding her children’s health from the information she gathers. I respect this about these bright women.

Unfortunately these women fall in to a generation that has the Internet but has never been taught how to use it wisely. My 6th grade daughters are currently learning how to separate anecdotal evidence from scientific evidence. They’re learning that the experience of a few vocal individuals cannot be equated to the experience of thousands in scientific studies. But the mothers who bring their children to me were never taught this. It’s a generational difference. They may take anti-immunization advice from mothering blog sites and see it as more
worthwhile than CDC recommendations based on enormous safety studies over decades. Or they may try to treat ADHD with dietary change just because some other cool moms are doing it. There has never been any evidence that dietary adjustment has any effect on ADHD. Why are these smart moms making these kinds of decisions?

My only conclusion is that it must be an issue of power. These moms must feel that the medical profession has taken away their decision making and they want it back. It’s understandable. I just wish they could feel empowered by decisions that are more sound because they embrace science. Anecdotal evidence from blogs is a scary way to make major health decisions. Meningitis could leave a child mentally retarded or dead. Even “spacing out” the vaccines is leaving the child more vulnerable. It’s inferior protection. I can’t think of a single good reason to do it.

I worry about the unimmunized child who will get meningitis and I worry about the guilt that mother will live with. My worries over my own children are trivial. I can switch the language on my iPod back to English (I think) and I can rush my daughter’s mouth guard over to the lacrosse field, but I can never fix the brain damage on a child with meningitis. I can’t bring that baby back. I wish that we could have it all: mothers not bullied by the medical profession, smart decisions that embrace science, and moms whose worries can be as trivial as mine.