Tag Archives: #author

Personal Growth

How Writer Can Live and Create in a Story-Book Style

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I don’t need wine, cos’ I’m intoxicated with words

Bury yourself in an inexplicable sweetness of my words. – Olya Aman

The walls are never a prison, and any roof never stifles me. I manage to preserve the adventurism while being locked and isolated, for my words are real, as solid and true as every imaginable experience. They are the product of chaos, clutter, greed, insatiable hunger — love, tender feeling, sexual satisfaction, loving enthusiasm, and every possible set of emotions and reactions.

Like a hundred amorets, a swarm of words flies about my head. They leap from idea to idea and shot their arrows of completed sentences and passages into my willing heart. My imagination clothes the naked days with tender feelings, and in my happiness, the uneventful life turns into a fascinating adventure.

I worship the blank pages, ready to accept my writing. I trod on printed lines and shrug my shoulders with a delightful feeling of doing something venturesome, something magical, and absolutely unbelievable.

A day without my sweet mental struggle causes me every imaginable woe. I experience that utter weakness of the knees and fear to fall. And my heart beats almost painfully when a glimmer of a beautiful sentence makes my breathing strangely oppressive.

That is love. That is why I write. So if you don’t want to read me, that’s fine. I get my share of dope, pure intoxication, complete happiness in giving my words a chance to live and love.

I am too deliriously happy to care if you don’t like it

When I write I cannot tell if it is pain or pleasure. Every fraction of a second is such pure, beautiful madness. “What can be better than this?”, I say with something between a sob and a laugh.

My wayward nature wishes to be subjected to this strong guidance I feel inside me. My stories are enthralling. Above all, I wish them to be written, released. When it happens, and I click on the ‘publish’ icon, I feel as if I shake hands with this independent being I’ve created, and my heart goes pit-a-pat against my chest.

It doubles my happiness if you can attune to the tragedy or sing in unison with the sad song I’ve written, if you can recite some of my passages or laugh heartily with my protagonists — but if none of this happens, that’s fine. My fictitious characters give me all the possible bliss I need.

I detach myself from the farther life of my stories

My dreamy and even dreary eye is following my heroes in their final stride to adult life, without my motherly watchful attention. The incongruity between the mystery of formation of a story and the masquerade of real, published life creates a curious psychological atmosphere. At first, I feel horribly worried at being caught in the foolishness or lack of logic. But somehow, at the moment of issue, these feelings seem more artificial and frivolous than any mistakes I could have committed in the process.

I reconcile myself to any ridiculous trappings. They were meant to be, settled long before, like developing milestones. Acts, attitudes, external objects and people, bad stories written in the past, weaker characters brought to life in the present — all are the necessities that are wending my way to a future masterpiece.

I am resolved to let some of my breezy writings to live. The truth is painfully simple: if I cannot make head or tail of some of my past work, there might be neither there. If this happens, I allow myself a prolonged moment of hilarious laughter.

I’m not to be bamboozled with negative feedback

There is something positive in the entirely negative criticism, as there is something damaging in a too favorable one. I am on good, or at least on good-humored terms with both, adverse or otherwise.

I receive the first with that serenity, which is a characteristic feature of my personality, and which is close to gayety — an impulse to work harder. I like when it presents a challenge to my penetration. This type of response is the cogwheel of my writing business. I favor it.

The second, more handsome reaction, I receive with a crusty and rather cynical sense of humor. It’s a flicker, a spark of light, a minute shade of delight — I take it with a fit of speculative abstraction as if it is not me they like.

The bare truth is — my story is liked, not me. That particular moment of my life, when it was created, is appreciated. I’ve changed since then. It is not me anymore who wrote it. I feel detached from it in a way and definitely detached from any praise it receives.

I say to my fellow-writers, “Camp out, so to say, away from your finished work.”

Share my fondness for living in a story-book style. Turn the page, start a new chapter, without hesitation, with curiosity and desire to learn something new.

Notice the eternal bliss that is always with you. Don’t let any feedback deprive you of this delicacy of life. It is better to make mistakes often, being happy in the process, than making them often just the same, but with your heart in pieces.

You have words enough in your breast. They beat against one another like birds in a net, struggling to get free. Let them loose with no regrets. Your writer’s voice should sound clearly and forcefully. Your face should shine with the glory of having created, with a sort of ecstasy which redeems every painful event and glorifies every pleasurable moment.

Stay tuned…

Parenting

3 Things to Be Aware of When Bringing up a Child 

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It was nice growing up with someone like you – someone to lean on, someone to count on…someone to tell on! – Anonymous

1) When a Child Cannot Cope With His Internal Desires

What happens when a child’s conscience is sleeping, long forgotten? Conscience helps to cope with our internal harmful desires. When all that a child knew throughout his life is orders and expectations to behave a certain way – he loses self-control and the skill to judge what is good and what is bad by himself. Every child must have, and I cannot stress it enough, the abundance of unconditional love and understanding. Through this rejuvenating feeling he learns about all good and bad things in life.

2) When You See a Falsely Obedient Children

You have seen examples of falsely obedient children. They behave as expected when they are at home, trying to eliminate any conflicts with their parents and siblings. And as soon as they leave home they try everything as if they are rebelling. When grown-up, some may end up drug addicts, others can find pleasures in uncontrolled sexual behavior, and some individuals are not able to say ‘no’ to a tasty high-calorie snack and end up overweight. They hate themselves for the weakness they have no strength to fight.

The lack of true love at home when they were kids, made them uncertain if this feeling existed. This doubt is damaging beyond any degree. A person that is uncertain if sincere affection, compassion, and love are present in his life – is actually uncertain in anything, including himself.

3) When a Child Has the Lack of Personal Identity

The reason for all of the described above is the lack of personal identity. Let your child experience life. Be close by to explain and lead by example instead of forcing him blindly to follow your instructions just because you think this is right and that is wrong. These little adventurers need to experiment early on and learn how to live in peace with their consciousness.

Take time to explain things they are interested in and things you think important for them to understand. You will find that repeating the same thing is quite annoying, be patient – you will be rewarded for your loving effort.

Conclusion

When a four-year-old feels discomfort when making the blunder of breaking a toy he took forcefully from a smaller child – he wouldn’t do that again not because it disappointed you, but because he felt ashamed and saw the tears of another little child. Do not be cross, explain the meaning of tears on another child’s face.

You know that life is not all about joy and pleasure. They need to learn that as well with your help and support. Let them fly but keep your arms always ready to catch them if they fall, to embrace them and treat their wounds.

Stay tuned…

Personal Growth

I Stopped Blaming Others. Now Nothing Can Stop Me From Being Happy

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You have the power to adjust the course of your life

Let an exceeding sweetness of this life take you a prisoner by stamping it with heartfelt poetry about people you love. – Olya Aman

I stopped blaming everything and everyone for the mistakes I made.

I used to look for weaknesses in other people to justify myself. I considered it to be a simpler path toward a contented life. I realized that it is the longest road to happiness, and it may not even lead me to the right destination — too many distractions on the way.

Looking for someone’s shoulders to put the weight of my mistakes on was impairing my intelligence and vivacity. My regrets haunted me. I wanted the people I blamed for my mistakes to run away from my life. These thoughts and feelings were taking the leading depressing role in my life.

To end this personality-ruining tendency, I made it my custom to look in the mirror and with affection in my eyes admit my blunders, own them, and learn from them. I am rather proud of the power I hold in my hands. My decisions, my choices, and my actions made this happen.

I have the power to adjust the course of my life.

There are so many things in life I did not notice. Losing beloved people taught me not to be so mindless. Because one day my play will be over and I will not have all the time in the world as I used to think I had. While I’m still here, present in the lives of people I care about, I want to hug our joined experience as much as possible.

I will not postpone the time to be with people I love, no more ‘later’, no more ‘another day’. I will not delay the meeting with an old relative. I will find time to ask the right questions and find out about the roots of my family tree. No more ‘now is too late’. I won’t reschedule that vacation I dreamed about for so long. No more ‘next year’. I will do all the travel while I am healthy enough to enjoy it.

I won’t feel ashamed of the strange excitement that childish activities can gift. This nervous, restless, and passionate kid is in me and I love this creature. I want to be silly sometimes, funny often, and wise now and then. Today I give voice by my pen to the fantasies of my brain, not afraid of ridicule, not letting the negative judgment of others kill my work.

How great a privilege is mine to be my unique self, to have so much to say, to make my life unbroken. My fortune is enormous. I spend it entirely on doing good for others and myself. I want my kindheartedness to be even greater than my generously. Because the first one knows no bounds, while the other, although great, has its limits.

Don’t make your life a sad play. Take these life lessons into your breast pocket, close to your heart:

  • Some folks neither see though they are looking, nor hear though they are listening. These people exist, they do not live. Be present every minute of your life. Speak with superb animation, listen with passionate interest, ask questions with a magnificent sparkle in your eyes. It will be as impossible to stop you from being happy as to stop the Rhine at the Falls of Schaffhausen.
  • Eliminate any negative influences and impressions (TV-horror movies, people that make you feel miserable; places that bring bad memories — anything that can change the state of tranquility). All these activities have a peculiarly damaging effect on the nervous system. To recruit your strength, you need to be picky with the things that make you happy and express thorough censure toward things that can upset you.
  • There are circumstances in which men are powerless. When, for example, unchained elements cannot be combated by human power. Like a dream, fiction, or chimera — these situations should be read through and put aside. Sometimes we encounter ill-will coming from men. Do not waste your time in breeding revenge thoughts. Use your intelligence, energy, and decision-making ability in thinking of the present. The past is gone, but the future is yours.

A dull, dreary life is your destiny if you let a succession of victimizing thoughts dominate in your life. Blaming others is like living in some imaginative whirlpool. It is easy and makes you feel not as vulnerable. But it deprives you of your inner power, which stops your personal growth. You cannot embrace life and other people fully if you are constantly trying to find faults in others.

Finding yourself tipping, own it. Be master of yourself. Triumph over your mistakes. No bleating, bellowing, neighing — only self-acceptance, -respect, and -love. Don’t breathe a word of reproof, rather self-talk about lessons that can be learned, and experiences that can be implemented.

Stay tuned…

Mental Health

An Autistic Boy Helped Me Recover After a Loss

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Know the difference between distractive loneliness and desired solitude

Olya Aman
My kind of loneliness rather aggravated than relieved the gloom of my life. – Olya Aman

I stole cautiously towards my secluded bench in the middle of a little island of sunflowers in their utmost bloom and richness of color. One would be almost invisible amongst those kingly looking plants with their golden crowns and massive leaves.

My face during that tough, lonely period of my life was a good deal over-serious for my two and twenty. I was well-nigh alien to this stunning and bewildering scene. My gloominess quite confounded the senses.

I looked at the boy on my bench, my neighbor, in mute and timid wonder. How did he end up on my patch? The intelligence that shone in the deep green eyes of this autistic boy, when I finally had a chance to look into them, seemed scarcely of his age, or of the world. The changing expression of good humor and seriousness, his ability to blush very red to the ears, made me admire a thousand lights that played about his face.

When I rented a small cottage in this remote village, I took no notice of other people and very little of this boy, although we were house to house neighbors and met often coming out and getting in our homely places, both thresholds facing each other. I seemed hard upon my thoughts, constantly looking down as if examining my boots and the ground right under my feet.

That day I smiled at this boy and said a word of polite greeting, but he, dedicated to his thoughts, didn’t respond. I discovered that this ability to concentrate made him a fantastic listener. At that moment in my life, he became my salvation. I was pouring on him a torrent of personal sentiments.

Not looking at me, he said, “L.. l.. l..”, then a long pause. The boy had a severe stammer. Finally, he produced his name in an unusually deep baritone, “Liam”. We communicated in notes from his side and words from mine. The first thing he wrote was, “You are lonely.” And he was right.

I told him my love story and although he avoided any eye contact and scribbled something in his little journal all the way; I knew he was all ears.

“I am in love with a dead person. If I knew him longer, I could have loved him longer. I miss his clear and pure miniature skies under the arch of his eyebrows. Only in his company I felt no need to think of what to say. Every moment of silence was a blessing, every word uttered was a revelation. He poured out more treasures of his luxurious inner nature in one minute than anyone else could’ve done in his entire life.” Liam brushed tears from my cheeks with his checked handkerchief. It was so old and soft, as if a tender touch of a mother.

“Only two years I spent in this blissful state. He missed our second anniversary. He‘d been run over by a car.”

Liam handed me a note with the following question, “Do you feel that your happiness is owing to him, and without his presence, your existence lacks purpose?” This boy could read my heart.

We met every day on that same bench. I was talking; he was scribbling. I said to Liam that I voluntarily chose isolation. I nurtured the notion I differed from all other people that surrounded me. I saw the world in clouds and fogs rather than in colors and vibes. I perceived people as rough creatures, not fit to understand my pain and be my companions.

I busied myself diving in my newly formed plan of moving to the village and burring my over-drained mind in simple farm occupations that required no thinking but just hard physical work. I used to have the vastness of feelings to lose myself in. Now I tried to be forgotten and forget.

When at home I felt my words thrown out, conversations started and no one to address them to. I used to defend myself tragically in an empty room in front of an imaginary lover. My bitter remarks dashed in vain against empty walls. I ate and drank, but it didn’t put any heart in me.

I couldn’t sleep, the night was fast closing, not gifting me with rejuvenating rest. I carried myself with the air of a weary person, feeling the claws of depression pressing harder on my chest. I had no tools to cope with stress, life attractions seemed to be hidden from my eyes. I found it harder with each day to approach people.

Liam listened. When I was done, he handed me his journal and smiled.

Liam wrote the following

It is vital to know the difference between loneliness that feels draining, distractive, and upsetting; and desired solitude that is peaceful, creative, and restorative. I found that you suffer from six kinds of distractive loneliness.

  1. New-Place Loneliness by the nature of things may force a person into the embrace of solitude. Shutting oneself up for a long time may create a communicative barrier that will prevent a person from seeing an opportunity to meet people.
  2. No-Soulmate Loneliness, when intimate bounds are missing. A beloved person is a source of love energy. Missing a romantic partner fills the heart with silence that is not soothing but upsetting.
  3. Lack-of-Trust Loneliness is a pessimistic approach to life. If you do not believe in the existence of truly well-intentioned, kind, and helpful people — you do not believe in life itself.
  4. No-Time-for-Connection Loneliness is misleading. To throw oneself into daily occupations not leaving any space for yourself and for others is a big mistake. That time may be considered lost because there is no one to share the pleasures of your achievements with.
  5. I-Am-Different Loneliness is quite a mystical state of mind. It is good to be different, feel oneself unique. But there is a fine ground between feeling different and feeling superior. The first one is most often positive, rather than the other is for sure negative. To teleport oneself from negative to the positive side of uniqueness is extremely important. To achieve it, you just need to open your perception to the ability to see the individuality in others. The uniqueness of personality, when multiplied, creates a wonderful cocktail of human characters.
  6. Quiet-Presence Loneliness is the lack of companionable silence. Sometimes we need someone to be just there for us, present in the room but not intrusive into our thoughts. The knowledge that we are not alone adds a comforting element to our lives. It is always pleasant to enter a habitable place after the day’s strain and excitement, rather than to find no eyes to look into during dusk hours.

What you should do to recover after your loss

  • Stay open for others. Connect with people. Nurture relationships. You need to feel that you belong, to confide, to give and get support. Attempt to secure the favor of warm-hearted people. That will add peculiarity to your personality.
  • Give love and you will receive it back multiplied. Be generous and wrap your beloved people up in attention and affection. Your life will be full of light, of unmingled happiness, if you cherish faith in the best in people.

This autistic boy changed my attitude toward life

Friendship, which before these days seemed impossible, crept in my life accompanied by blithesome music of this boy’s kind heart. That music taught me to value the treasures of the heart over any material possessions. I stopped feeling superior over others, admitting that I had tons to learn from simple people with little to boast of in terms of monetary luxuries, and so much in terms of values of the heart.

When I let myself be open to the truest, warmest, soul-felt gratitude — I saw more smiling faces around. The reason was simple — the charming smile found its way to my face, and even though I had forgotten how to wear it, my gentle nature was always ready to master every positive skill all over again. I learned to share the devotion and affection of my nature so long locked and sealed inside my soul. This transformation brought deep and lasting relationships with other people.

My mind was firmly set on never to return to the sorrow and calamity of my past distractive life apprehensions. I intended to not let my positive spirit tarnish. My long suffered heart found the perfect formula for happiness, and the key element in it was a strong connection to other people.

Stay tuned…