Tag Archives: #helpyourself

The Wheelchair That Carried Him Back to Life

To linger here or to feel that you belong… — Olya Aman

T. is a lean, long-backed, large-headed Lebanese, with surly tones of his voice and coarse features of his face. We scour the country together every now and then: I—on my feet and he—on his wheels. His wheelchair is a speedy little beast, accelerated by his mighty hands and skillfully maneuvered by his flexible torso.

T. is my dear friend. You would never believe looking at his expressive and full of exhilarating energy face, that death had been hovering over him just three years ago.

The dark night in T.’s life crept slowly on, unexpected and unwelcomed. The sun rose and sank, and he was dwindling away beneath the dry and wasting heat of fever.

A weak, thin, and pallid face was looking at him from the multi-squared mirror lights of the hospital ceiling. Outside the window strangers in and out, smiling and crying, old folks and newborns—all colors of countenances and personalities were passing through his painful perception for forty-three thousand agonizing wakeful minutes of his confinement to the bed.

When starting to sit down to his meals, still dispirited and sad, the realization that the chains of grief were the heaviest of all fetters came to T.’s mind. The belief in a higher intelligent plan and purpose was still holding him tight, not letting him sink into that despair completely.

T. needed to return to the world he belonged. Hour by hour the drop of every happy memory brought back first feeble streams of life. The fairest consolation came in disguise of a prayer. He applied himself with assiduity to the task of reviving his inner and outer strength so his family could be proud of him.

He made off as fast as he could to lay his spirits to the ground and managed to get himself out of the bed and on his wheels with surprising speed. Every morning he called before his mind’s eye a vast amphitheater of loving faces of his dear people.

He didn’t feel his legs anymore, but that missing part of his body was substituted by strains of overly agitated nerves of his arms and spine. He followed on the track of strengthening his torso every instant he felt the need to hue-and-cry to the missing limbs.

T.’s life hanged heavy on his hands even before the turning point that left him without legs. Being 32-years-old, he had been poring over various subjects. It seemed a matter of impossibility to center his life around fitness and body healing strategies now when he lost almost half of it, but this idea was firmly impressed upon his mind. T. became transfixed with the desire to achieve the heights he didn’t even think possible for his fully-functional healthy past-self.

He set his heart firmly on a goal to become a physical therapist working in amputee rehabilitation. He became a world known inventor of dynamic specific strengthening exercises that flex and tone the muscles. His online teaching courses are empowering. His own experience gives him psychological advantage to motivate people who suffered a loss to set goals and move on with their lives.

The impressive stateliness that radiated from T. was adopted from his mentor. The simplicity of his mentor’s life stirred T. profoundly. This person was happy, chasing his dreams and loving his family. With neither legs nor arms he was shining with heart strength and will-power. Every trace of T.’s essence strove to be worthy of the second chance he was given.

T. still had a realizing sense of his weakness and captivity. But he was recovering his life-balance by an effort of willpower and desire to set an example for others.

He conveyed a message that whatever happened to him was not a run of ill-luck but a fortunate wakeful blessing. He shared many talks on how to accept the past and devotedly love your-past-self and present-self.

He received many compassionate comments on his media channels. The influence which his sincere contented personality exercised was deep and lasting. People saw a humble person just like themselves, never repenting on his helplessness, but actually claiming to be powerful enough to uplift his own spirit and inspire others to do the same.

In a Field of Battle With Regret, You Must Either Slay or Be Slain

Regret made me goofy. Sorrow gave me an enigmatic flavor. – Olya Aman

My boss fell in love with me and laid me off

I was out of humor and out of heart. It has been almost two years now, but my grief grew fast and furious with every succeeding year. My best friend, the one I was secretly in love with, died from heart failure. Miraculously, we were at the stop sign when it happened, the horn of a car announced the death. His innocent and pathetic face was radiant with new happiness. I couldn’t help wondering how he could be so glad to leave me alone. Sitting on a front passenger seat, I unconsciously called to mind a portrait I saw in a gallery some years ago. The painter neglected the background, reserving all the magic of his brush for the quiet, happy face of a man. My friend at that moment looked just like him, as if he had caught the golden glory of heaven on his countenance.

He felt discomfort in his chest for a few weeks before the terrible culmination on that day. I mentioned to him several times that he needed to see a doctor. I blamed myself for lack of persistence. And the regret I felt had a sensation of almost maternal protection. Its watchful eye never left my side. It didn’t let my mind wander elsewhere. Some days I could feel the throbbing of his heart as if he was pressed in an affectionate embrace close to my chest. Those days were worse than others.

I would do impossibilities to bring him back. I owed my happiness to him. It felt like an explosion now when he was gone. And I could not pick up the fragments with all the care of an antiquary I applied. I became stifle. My mind and soul were on fire, and that blaze seemed to gleam from hell. There was no space left for new emotions.

That dark, evening power that dominated in my life had some magnetic energy that attracted empathetic people. There are some ways of looking at you that seem to penetrate your soul. I looked at people and made them feel as though they had nothing on. That irritated a lot and captivated many. A coworker once told me I looked like someone who belonged in an old painting. And my gloomy voice could talk the language of enigmatic gallantry of that time.

I often was behind handed with my work, but my senior manager closed his eyes on every mismatch in my schedule. The tension was growing. I could not see the outpouring lava of affection that I excited. My handsome boss was on fire, like a human volcano he loved me with the fierce of unchained nature.

But I was a different person after 2 years of mourning. I gazed about me with a saddened eye, paying attention to the dim side of life. That desire to expand every misfortune in daily life and minimize the impact of many little jolly things was roasting me alive. I needed thunder and lightning to wake me up and transform that death-like, sepulchral look into my regular prior-to-the-fatal-day features.

My heart finally spoke to me, and I happened to take to it. The blow of losing a job served as a curing disaster that shook my essence. When enough time was given to self-wandering, I realized that there were still pages in my life book that I had not read.


 

Enrich Your Sense of Beauty. Triumph Over Any Fashion

How to be a WOMAN in the most beautiful sense of this word

Olya Aman
A woman dressed in confidence and love is always elegant. – Olya Aman

I was in my fifth edition, and that outfit looked just as good as four others I’d tried. I and my girlfriend have been going through my wardrobe for a good half hour now, and each succeeding combination was even braver than the previous one.

“It will be rather a lark if you wear this one to work,” she said succinctly.

“I’m just in my yarn when I put things like that on,” said I, covering my bare shoulders with a gorgeous handmade shawl in pastel purple, beige, and blue flowers.

Natasha is my closest friend. The one I see only once in a few years, do not talk for months, and always feel closely attached to. She knows I follow no trends in style and look stunning in my very few outfits, bought years ago or presented by dear people. I am a minimalist when it comes to wardrobe computation. But each article of clothing is most adored and cherished by me.

I’m not beautiful in a way people used to consider facial attractiveness. Just a shade below average height, I nevertheless convey myself with an expression of assurance far beyond the ordinary. The faintest curve of humor never deserts my lips, making my face — sweet in expression, but somewhat irregular in features — charming.

Conversation

Natasha pulled out a leather pocket-book: which, like herself, was very petite, and got ready to listen. She thinks every idea I share with her can be compiled to a separate book.

Let’s see…

“A WOMAN that is in love with herself makes everything that she does beautiful. Every move she makes, every, even the most trifling thing, becomes enveloped in meaning. Her life: family, kids, career — for sure is interesting, every aspect of it. Why?”

“Because she cares about her feelings — that attention towards herself in her ‘to do’ list is primary. She gifts herself first and then she has more to share.”

“I love my kids and I want them to have a healthy, energetic, beautiful mother. That is the reason I go to my yoga class, meet my girlfriends at least twice a week, and do my exercises once a day.”

“I want to be interesting, that is why I am interested in many things. I read on various topics. Fashion is just one of the many. I know my colors and how to play with them. It is easy when you give yourself time to research and experiment.”

“I do not like shopping. But I am attentive to what is pleasing to the eye. I try my outfits, various combinations at my leisure time to get to know them better. I consider my shawls, skirts, and jackets — my friends, that is why I have only a few and love them dearly.”

“Everyone’s got intuition. The inner voice that never deceives. Some just forgot how to distinguish it in the multitude of whirling thoughts. Women are more sensitive. That time I spend alone helps me to find good grounds with that precious girl in me. She knows what is better for me. I do not want to be one of the crowd, I am to all appearances different, unique — and I love it.”

“I keep a close watch on how I feel in my clothes, bearing philosophically the judgment of others. When freed from the demands and expectations, you live in harmony with yourself. We, by no means, need not lose ourselves in chasing trends.”