Magic Words

AS SOMEONE who earns her living from writing, I have tremendous respect for the power of words. They can enlighten or mislead, heal or maim, give comfort or cause distress. In my case, they have the capacity to mitigate fear. To stop the quaking in my boots when I am called upon to speak in public, I engage in self-talk.

What do I tell myself? Three things, basically.

The first thing I tell myself is – I AM UNIQUE. There are things that only I can share with a group.

When I was younger, the nuns in our school never ceased to remind us that we were on this earth to do a special task. Whatever this task was that God had assigned to us, we were the only ones who could do it. This was a threatening thought which carried with it a great responsibility. But it was a comforting one as well. It meant that I did not have to compete with anyone – I would be loved and valued just for being myself, for doing the things only I could do.

A few years ago, I attended a workshop on FINDING YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE, conducted by a couple from Findhorn, Scotland -- Celia and Peter Hawe. One of the exercises at their workshop involved going into an altered state and meeting a wise person who would give us a gift to take home. The writer Gilda Cordero Fernando, who was at this workshop, got a snowflake. She expressed disappointment at getting a gift that was so Western, and one that would surely melt and disappear. I told her how envious I was of her snowflake and how lucky she was to get a gift that meant she was unique, she was special, and there was no one else like her in all the world.

The second thing I tell myself is – I AM ENOUGH.

I got this line from a story told about Carl Rogers, a pioneering humanistic psychologist. Rogers is best known for his unique approach to therapy called Unconditional Positive Regard. He offered to demonstrate his approach at a master’s class he conducted for the Stanford University medical school faculty.

One of the doctors volunteered to act as his client and they rearranged their chairs to sit opposite one another. As Rogers turned toward him and was about to begin the counseling session, he stopped and looked at his audience. “Oh yes,” he said, “there is one other thing I do before I start a session. I take a moment to remember my humanity. I tell myself -- there is no experience this man has that I cannot share with him, no fear that I cannot understand, no suffering that I cannot care about. Because I too am human. And because of this, I AM ENOUGH.”

I AM ENOUGH. This line gives me the courage to do my work as a counselor without feeling inadequate, to feel worthy of and grateful for the friendship and love that people offer me and that I reciprocate, to believe that I do not have to apologize for the space I occupy in this world.

The third thing I tell myself is – I AM NOT ALONE. I am a child of the Universe, connected to every living and breathing creature on earth. To me, the opposite of love is not hatred. Nor is it fear. It is isolation.

I AM NOT ALONE. I realize that I am only one of millions of people who shudder at the thought of speaking in public. But I have also become part of a group – the Toastmasters Club – that understands the terror of standing tongue-tied in front of an audience. I am part of this group that believes such fears can be overcome. I am part of this group that is committed to self-development and personal growth.

Different people devise different ways to make their fears disappear. Rodgers and Hammerstein suggest “whistling a happy tune.” Linus, the Peanuts character, seeks refuge in his security blanket. A friend of mine finds protection in her wooden rosary beads.

I rely on my stock of magic words. I am unique…I am enough… I am not alone. They never fail to see me through.