What if you treated yourself like a best friend?

What if you knew you could do anything you wanted and wouldn’t fail?

What if all of the religions were saying the same thing in different ways?

What if the lady who cut you off in her car was preoccupied because she just found out she had cancer?

What if the guy who’s slowing you down just saved you from a head-on collision?

What if no one judged you?

What if you didn’t judge yourself?

What if everyone in the world took a 20-minute walk every day?

What if you were scheduled to die tomorrow, or next week, or next month, or next year?

What if today was the first day of the rest of your life?

What if you had all the time you need in life to do all of the important things?

What if you desired what you have?

What if you took a flying leap of faith in yourself?

What if the only measure of success was contentment?

What if you wrote down 50 reasons why you are lucky?

What if kindness was the ideal of beauty in the world?

What if you traded in your TV for a bike?

What if you smiled at everyone you passed?

What if everyone you passed smiled at you?

What if you got a letter in the mail from a friend you knew long ago?

What if every person you met was meant to teach you something about yourself?

What if you did one cartwheel, every day, for the rest of your life?

What if God was inside of us?

What if you knew you were exactly where you need to be in life right now?

What if it took a lifetime to become exactly who you want to be?

Janna Brayman Krawczyk is a writer and a teacher.  She has a B.A. in journalism from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and a Masters in Teaching from Hamline University.  She has been writing in a journal for over half of her life and has finally accepted that life is not easy, yet our struggles and obstacles are what inspire insight and wisdom.  For this reason, she must write as a way to understand herself and her life, stay sane, and dream big dreams.  She feels blessed to share this healing and illuminating practice with as many people as possible in her lifetime…

I am a big believer in the power of words and their transcendental quality—once released into the Universe, they seem to take on an energy of their own.  I have built a career around the power of words.  Actually, I have built the very life I live through the power of words.

So I can’t really explain why I’ve never really been a huge fan of affirmations.  Though everything we write is basically an affirmation of our thoughts and life, actually doing positive affirmations has always felt false and forced.  I just couldn’t do the stand-in-front-of-the-mirror-and-say-“I-love-you-Janna” thing.

But in the past couple of weeks, I’ve experienced an epiphany, a renaissance of the mind regarding affirmations.  And this illumination has been inspired by a garish hot-pink-and-light-blue book that’s been sitting on my shelf unread for over a decade.  I don’t even remember where I got it or why I was moved to buy it.  But for some reason, I never thought to get rid of it.  Funny thing about books—some just sit there patiently, collecting dust, for the day when we pick them up and are ready to really understand their message.  What is the saying?  When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.

So my current teacher, this hot-pink, 80’s-style-covered book by Louise L. Hay called “The Power Is Within You” has helped me work through a nagging and terrifying rumination that I’ve been trying to rid myself of for four years:  Mother-fear.  Fear that “something” will happen to Oliver and Lucy.  Fear that I have no control, that Life is too risky and they are too vulnerable.  Fear that I will fall apart, cease to live.  Just fear.  Fear with no placed to put it, fear that hangs in the air above my brightest days and threatens rain every time it seeps into my thoughts.

I didn’t realize that when I gave birth to my son Oliver four years ago that I would also give birth to fear.  I didn’t realize prior to becoming a mother that I enjoyed a life with relatively little fear.  I’ve learned that fear feels terrible.  And in most cases it is not only useless, but also harmful to my health.

I could feel fear’s grip tightening around my neck every time I thought, “What if something happened to Oliver and Lucy…”  Those very words were the fearful mantra I’d been repeating over and over, in my head, to my friends, to anyone who would talk to me about this sucky thing I call Mother Fear.

Most recently, I tried to give my fear up to a star.  My intention was to find a star and designate it as my fear holder, so I wouldn’t have to hold onto it any more.  And that did help, but it didn’t make the thoughts go away.  They would come and I would envision them flying up into the sky to some gracious star that didn’t mind holding onto my stinky thoughts.

But then one night, for some reason I cannot explain, I noticed Hay’s book sitting on my shelf.  I began it without commitment, but within the first chapter when she started talking about fear and the effect it had on her life, my curiosity was piqued.  And then I came to this passage:

“Imagine that your thoughts are like drops of water.  One thought or one drop of water does not mean very much.  As you repeat thoughts over and over, you first notice a stain on the carpet, then there is a little puddle, then a pond, and as these thoughts continue, they can become a lake, and finally an ocean.  What kind of ocean are you creating?”

And in reading those words, I realized I was creating an ocean of fear regarding my kids.  And I don’t want that.  I want them to feel brave and free, to explore this life with an eye toward adventure and growth.

So I read on.

In Chapter Four, entitled “Reprogramming Old Tapes,” she says, “Remember, every time you think a thought, and every time you speak a word, you are saying an affirmation.”  A few pages later she goes on to say, “When you first say an affirmation, it may not seem true.  But remember, affirmations are like planting seeds in the ground.  When you put a seed in the ground, you don’t get a full-grown plant the next day.”

So a couple of weeks ago, every time I would feel fear or worry, instead of repeating my fear mantra, I replaced it with this affirmation: “Oliver and Lucy are Safe and Protected.”  And because I have nothing to lose in this exercise, I kept saying it. Every time fear tried to wrap its slimy hands around my neck, I’d give it an elbow and literally shove the thought away with my new affirmation, “Oliver and Lucy are safe and protected.”

I say it aloud and I say it inside my head.  I’ve trained myself to notice the fear thought and feeling when it tries to creep in, and immediately I blast it with, “Oliver and Lucy are safe and protected.”

I wrote it in big letters in my journal.  I say it to myself when I walk down the street.  I say it out loud while I’m riding my bike.  Oliver and Lucy are safe and protected.

And you know what?  It’s working.  Slap me silly and call me Floyd, it’s working.
So there.  Give us this day, our daily affirmation, and forgive ourselves for having thoughts that scare us, and lead us toward peace and empowerment.

Amen.

Janna Brayman Krawczyk is a writer and a teacher.  She has a B.A. in journalism from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and a Masters in Teaching from Hamline University.  She has been writing in a journal for over half of her life and has finally accepted that life is not easy, yet our struggles and obstacles are what inspire insight and wisdom.  For this reason, she must write as a way to understand herself and her life, stay sane, and dream big dreams.  She feels blessed to share this healing and illuminating practice with as many people as possible in her lifetime…

John Spencer Morris

Since our friend John’s death and his “Celebration of Life” ceremony last week, Paul and I have been in deep contemplation about Life and its meaning, wondering and talking about and feeling the mystery of it all, a mystery that cannot be explained or fully understood by any one religion or philosophy. Experiencing the death and the coming together of people to honor the life of this young, vibrant, and passionate person brings the fact of all of our lives to the fore: we all have a death date, a day and hour and minute when we will leave this Earth, leave our friends and loved ones, leave all of the stuff of life undone–our stained coffee mugs on the counter, our towels drying on the rack by the shower, our last words lingering in the air where we left them.

Since returning home, the quality of the very light shining upon our lives has been enhanced. The feeling of Paul’s hand in mine; the sight of Lucy’s curls bobbing as she runs down the wooded path behind our house with a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in her little hand; the sound of Oliver’s voice in the dark naming the friends he is going to invite to his 5th birthday party–in March–before he goes to sleep; the comfort of sharing wine and butternut squash soup over candlelight with friends in a backyard on a late summer night in Minneapolis.  All of these moments and people make a life.

When we rack our brains and cry out with anguish asking why, why, why do people have to die, could the lessons they teach us about Life be part of a plan we cannot begin to fathom?

As the African priest presiding over the ceremony said: Whether we live 40 or 80 years, life is short!  When everything falls away, what truly matters?  Is it wealth or status or image? Or is it simply being a good person–a person who helped others along their path, who made people laugh and feel supported, loved, and cherished?

Sometimes when I’m riding my bike, I lose myself in a reverie of thinking about my funeral.  While this may seem morbid, after the sudden death of my mother, the death of my best friend to cancer, and most recently the death of John, these thoughts are actually quite real.  And inspiring.  Thinking about my own celebration of life reminds me of who I want to be, of the effect I want to have on the people in my life, of the legacy I want to leave behind.

John’s ceremony was so affirming in this regard. We cried, hugged, shared stories, and laughed together with his family and friends, many of whom we had never met, from all parts and times of his life.

Just before the ceremony was to begin at 6:30 in his backyard near the place where he took his last breath, the skies opened up for the first time in months in Austin.  The rain poured down and the wind bent the trees and sent gusts that literally split the river.  And in the middle of it all, his wife Ann walked down to the boathouse, a sad smile on her face knowing that it is very possible that behind this storm, her husband and lover was screaming, “I am here!  I am right here with you!”

Soon a steady stream of people followed behind her.  Together, connected along a Divine thread through John, we danced, soaking wet in the pouring rain, celebrating our friend’s life and the effect he had on all of us.

Here is a powerful writing exercise for you that I read about years ago in the book Seven Habits of Highly Effective People: Write your own eulogy. You can write it from the standpoint of a friend, a member of your family, or a member of your community.  How do you want to be remembered?  Who are the people who you have affected in your life? In essence, what legacy do you want to have upon this Earth?

Writing about the end of our lives helps us clarify for ourselves how we want to live now.  It helps us to focus on the things that matter and skim the fat on the things that take our precious time and energy.

Enjoy the writing.  Enjoy your friends and your family.  Enjoy this mysterious gift of Life…

Janna Brayman Krawczyk is a writer and a teacher.  She has a B.A. in journalism from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and a Masters in Teaching from Hamline University.  She has been writing in a journal for over half of her life and has finally accepted that life is not easy, yet our struggles and obstacles are what inspire insight and wisdom.  For this reason, she must write as a way to understand herself and her life, stay sane, and dream big dreams.  She feels blessed to share this healing and illuminating practice with as many people as possible in her lifetime…