I'm a word nerd. An author, a lyricist, a songwriter, and a poet. The meaning of words takes up a good amount of space in my brain. When I wrote my book called Fearless, I included an entire section just to define the title (a title that I didn't choose, by the way).

When my publisher told me that they had chosen a title for my book, I was thrilled. What would it be? Something like, "How to Retrain Your Inner Voice to Become Your Most Powerful Creative Ally?" Or, "How We Talk to Ourselves Matters?" The list of suggestions I had made ran through my mind like a train on a one-way track. Soon, this title, this beautiful title that was about to be revealed to me for the first time, would carry my words into the hearts and minds of millions. My mission would be underway: becoming a companion for the awakening of others through the sharing of my own process. Finally, I could help others understand the creative power they hold in their own inner voice.

I opened the email like a child opens their very first gift on Christmas morning, ravenous for the words beneath the paper.

Fearless: 27 Affirmations to Change Your Life, it said.

WHAT? Fearless? What on earth did my book have to do with being fearless? I asked myself. I was absolutely terrified throughout the entirety of its creation and was feeling yet another dose of fear as I considered presenting myself as the "fearless" author of this book. No way could embody that title. It would have to change, I decided. But I've learned something about myself over the years and it is that if something feels like you're on fire inside, you should consider letting it sit for a moment before taking any action. In the space between receiving the email and sending one back I realized what "fearless" really meant to me. It meant to connect with an aspect of myself that could feel the fear and do it anyway. The following is an excerpt from my book:

Words are funny. Sometimes they hold value for us because they contain parts we can dissect—prefixes, roots, and suffixes that break down easily with meaning we can piece together like a well-kept puzzle. Other times, words are messy, a compilation of sounds born not of order but of a need to communicate something held deeply in the human psyche—sounds that invoke a feeling, a pulse of something almost beyond language. "Fearless" is one of those words that, upon initial investigation, appears to be normal. It talks about fear ("fear"), and it talks about the absence of it ("less"). But we can use it to mean something even more true. We can use it to allude to an inherent truth that doesn't mean the absence of fear at all. Instead, with the right framework, "fearless" becomes a reminder that there is a part of each of us that exists beyond fear entirely. Maybe a better word would be "fearpast" or "fearbeyond" or some other word that doesn't exist yet in the English language. But "fearless" achieves something that no other word presently does in quite the same way. It denotes the imagery and feeling of strength, it brings alive something past the ego, and it invites the soul into a position of leadership. This book reminds us of the part of ourselves that is clear and soul-directed, and it provides a guide not just to access that part once or occasionally but to restore it as our normal state of being. No longer will your fears direct the story of your life; soon, they will be restored to their rightful place in your process as messengers.

I am not without fear, but I connect with a part of myself that exists beyond it. This is the part of myself that is free. I, Mama Rose, am not free. I am a human being bound by flesh, a timestamp of impending death and about thirty thousand other constraints that make it possible for me to move through a world governed by physics, a 24-hour day, and arguably linear time. I am limited, bound, and held to laws I did not make. So, if the me that exists here with this name and in this body cannot be fearless and cannot be free, what is it that I'm really after? I think it's something much more simple and entirely attainable.

Aliveness. The part of me that exists beyond fear and limitations is the version of self that is the living me. She is the life force that animates, motivates, and inspires me. When I am connected with her through my awareness, I feel alive. She flows through me when I am doing what I love. My mind becomes hers as I give up control and ask to receive the answers to my problems instead of trying to think through them myself. She shines brighter when I make space for her by accepting all of my thoughts and emotions. She moves me when I fall into the music of life and just dance. It is she who is free from the constraints of fear, and I have access to her at all times. I choose my fearlessness, my freedom, and my aliveness by choosing to do what makes me feel alive.

I don't think I ever really wanted to be without fear. Because the fear is what pointed my attention to the parts of myself that needed love. The fear was a powerful creative tool that propelled me forward by guiding me inward. I think freedom is much the same. The desire to be free asks us to look at the places in our lives where we are limited. When we identify with these limitations, we experience a lack of aliveness and confuse it for a lack of freedom. But we were never free to begin with. Not here, not in this body with this personality. Not with this ego, not playing this character here in this life. So, what happens when instead of identifying with our limitations we view them as the structure necessary for us to experience movement in our lives?

In Fearless I write about the river and riverbanks, which is an analogy that has transformed my own ability to have gratitude for the boundaries and limitations in my life. If a river has no banks it will never reach the sea. It will spill out, puddle-like and momentum-less. The river banks are what allow the water to move with speed and direction toward a goal even when that goal is thousands of miles away. Not only does the water require the land to hold it as it moves across continents but it also guides the banks with its own intention. The water is what moves the stone, soil, and minerals, creating its path as it flows. If the water wants to move differently, it carves a new path. We are like the water. It is our intention that decides where the boundaries and limitations exist in our lives. So, what if we don't like where our riverbanks are? What if they feel too tight or too loose or too shallow? What if we are not confident that our banks can get us where we want to go? Or even more trepidacious, what if we don't know where we want to go? To change the banks of the river, we must connect with our intention.

Here is where it all comes together. Our intention for our lives is not always conscious. Sometimes we can see the sea, sometimes we cannot. Sometimes we change our destination entirely. But no matter where we are in our journey we can connect with the part of ourselves that exists beyond the river banks. The part of us that exists beyond fear and boundaries entirely. The part of us that is truly free. We can connect with this version of ourselves that exists beyond time by connecting with our aliveness. And this, my friend, is what you are truly after when you say you want to be "fearless."

So, in times where the whole story needs a rewrite or the characters need to change or the old costume just doesn't fit because the ego feels like a star in the last year of its life, enormous and about to implode, just connect with what makes you feel alive. Here you will find your deepest and most heartfelt intention for your life. Here is the fearless and free version of you that guides your limitations. Here is the real feeling you're after. The best news is that even in the darkest times of our lives, we can find a little bit of what makes us feel alive. Maybe it's as simple as noticing the way a leaf dances, or feeling the sun on your face. Maybe it's a bath that brings warmth back to your toes after a cold walk. Maybe it's your movement or your voice or the sound the pen makes against the paper of your diary. Maybe you find aliveness in your dreams.

However you access your aliveness, a few things are true.

1. It is yours and no one can take it from you, not even in death.
2. It is your lifeline and the home of your creativity.
3. It is your way beyond whatever issues you're experiencing, because in aliveness, the solution is bigger than the problem.

When I was writing Fearless I had many challenges mixed in with my excitement for my beloved book. My four children needed me, my finances were not even close to meeting the level of responsibility in my life, my relationship was crumbling, and my four-year-old son was struggling with medical complications from his congenital brain and heart defects. I was in the underworld of my psyche, coming up for air. But this book was my aliveness. Writing felt like a direct line to my higher power. I could hear truths in my own voice that I wouldn't have believed if anyone else told me. My writing gave me access to my aliveness and without surprise, it was also the pathway to lift me into the next chapter of my life.

Through the process of writing Fearless, I learned what it meant to be so. I learned to have gratitude for the long nights at my laptop and for choosing to say, "No, I can't go out, I'm committed to this thing I'm working on." I learned to challenge imperfection, because it turns out that the version of us that is fearless and free is also the only version of us that is perfect. I am not perfect because I am not finished. My story continues to write itself through me. And guess what? I learned that it's the right time to share something—not because it's perfect, but because it's alive.