Tag Archives: selflove

Become a Sweet Killer Each Time You Converse With a Person

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Find charming weapons in your posture, gestures, and mimic

You must possess a great deal of inner strength to fight for your true essence. – Olya Aman

Experienced the poison of my own personality reflected and redirected at me when I was eight.

We were sitting on a balcony on the 6th floor of a nine-story quiet building and shelling peas when the boy, my distant cousin, the exact relation of whom I am not able to disclose, promised to marry me once we grew up. He was 6 years old, I think, and for me, that was the main obstacle to matrimony. I couldn’t bear my husband being a whole 2 years younger than me.

The boy was petite and skinny, dressed according to the latest style with a modern haircut. His eyes were flickering like quiet water at the bottom of the well. I don’t remember his name, only the electrified tenderness from the combination of sounds that caressed the roof of my mouth.

I used to be a shy girl and I couldn’t imagine anybody might take a liking to me. This first occasion indulged my vanity and coupled with that raised right eyebrow and light tilt of the head to the left made magic. He unconsciously copied all my gestures, like the one of bringing the tips of my fingers together in a thoughtful manner.

That skill of sweet murderous attraction (and my distant cousin undoubtedly possessed it) sometimes takes ages to master. By listening with all six senses, adding full awareness to this mutual process of comprehension, and giving yourself in full to the moment of wisdom, you may be highly rewarded by obtaining a grateful and affectionate friend.

Unfortunately, the relation, if any, was very distant and I haven’t seen my first admirer for many years. Our encounter lasted about 4 hours and was limited by that romantic adventure with peas.

However, the ability to see, or rather to sense with your entire body the inner rhythm of any living being could be a curse rather than a blessing.

One day about six years ago when I visited M. I met a good-looking man. What struck me was the familiar flickering in his eyes. “I’ve already seen that watery gray color somewhere”, I thought.

His wife was a big woman with unusually dainty ankles. She had a style about her, and I could almost call her dazzling but for her loud voice, just a touch above average, with an expression of power and force in it.

Magnetism seemed to radiate from her, and it outshone her husband completely. They both made a curious movement of their shoulders when being introduced to me. At the dinner table she talked a lot and each time her husband wanted to add something, she interrupted him deprecatingly. It looked like she didn’t care even two straws about him when he was completely determined to obey her in every way.

This man was lost in his wife’s charisma, modeling her movements and intonations in vain hope to be heard by the object of his admiration. It can be easier for a person like that to vanish in search of identity and never discover the true self within.

Looking back, I sometimes think individuality is far more fragile than we imagine. It does not disappear all at once. It fades quietly, gesture after gesture, borrowed opinion after borrowed opinion, until one day we hear ourselves speaking with someone else’s voice and wonder where our own has gone.

The little boy I once knew copied my movements because he was discovering the world. The man I met years later copied his wife’s because he seemed to have stopped discovering himself.

Perhaps the greatest struggle in life is not becoming someone extraordinary.

It is remaining yourself while loving someone else.

You must possess a great deal of inner strength to fight for your true essence.

How My Cousin’s Self-Compassion Helped Him Recover From Drug Addiction

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Self-compassion taught him to admit the fact that life is painful sometimes

My cousin Victor was a fair example of a typical ‘mazhor’ (a kid of wealthy parents). He snapped his fingers and had everything he wished. And when his father lost every dollar they had in a risky market deal, Victor’s self-esteem suffered a great deal. He simply lost his place in the world, thinking that material possessions were the only means of determining it.

When his family moved to a shabby-looking village house nearby, his grandma left him in a will a long time ago, he considered all his plans for the future ruined. I found him very poorly equipped to live frugally and happily, rather he was prone to make up in negative judgmental feelings what he lacked in dollar bills. We were not friends, although spent hours together talking, or arguing about life. I was only 13 at the time, but felt myself superior to this 18-year-old kid.

Victor lived a narrow life of anxiety and depression. He suffered from fits of narcissistic, self-absorbing anger. He stopped any communication with his father, blaming his misfortunes on him. He spent almost all his time in the nearby town, and when he occasionally showed his wistful face in our village, he often ended up in my kitchen. He longed for compassionate attention and understanding. He was lost amid his troubled thoughts and feelings, and painfully needed to talk to someone, to pour his misery out and, by doing so, try to get his turbulent life in order. I tried to be a sympathetic listener.

In about a year of village life, Victor stopped coming home at all. I can admit now, I missed this troubled boy a lot. His parents found him almost too late. He entered the narcotic state of self-destruction, greedily grabbing after each opportunity to get stoned and forget about the present.

Six months in a rehabilitation clinic drew a straight line between his past and his present. Victor had to learn all over again to establish contact with people. But to do that he needed to notice their engaging characters, rather than labeling any new acquaintance either as a ‘valuable’ or a ‘useless’ one as he used to do before.

I was happy to accept my cousin in a small circle of my best friends. Now we could talk without raising our voices. Now we had more in common.

To find new friends, Victor needed to add more positive emotions to his life. I loved him and was ready to accept him with the entire fabric of his timid personality and teach him to understand the keener pleasures of life without an abundance of money. Victor needed more people like that in his life.

He plunged into the healing process by getting rid of regrets, doubts, and self-bitterness. Victor added to his life the rich touch of self-understanding, self-acceptance, and self-praise. It gave him power enough to think favorably about his future. I always told him he was smart enough to reach the desired, be it personal happiness, or material comforts. Finally, I saw signs that he believed in this creed.

Today Victor claims to have self-compassion enough in him to straighten his life in a balanced, heartfelt, and mindful way. He is not ignoring his past, but he is no longer exaggerating his own misconduct, rather takes the best from each experience. He needs to fight his way to happiness, always remembering about his past addiction. He praises himself for each day lived without drugs.

How Backbiting and Gossiping Ruined My Happiness

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Why, or rather when the opinion of others matters

Spend precious moments stubbornly biting your lips, speaking sternly, and acting openly… – Olya Aman

Dima was my first boyfriend. A terrible bore as he was, I loved him dearly. I always thought him to be above the average in the firmness of his mind. He read classic literature and spoke the language of 19th century romance. We were young and very much in love.

Dima was a sensible and handsome young boy of twenty at the time. I was a smart, pretty girl of eighteen with merry grey eyes and lofty, intelligent forehead. Today when I see a photo of us together, I remember how contagiously happy we were.

One incident ruined our happiness. Dima thought himself deceived, duped, and hopeless. A slough scandal was spread through the entire village and finally found its way to Dima’s ears. The tempest of doubt and dread, of jealousy and rage, almost blinded him. Some shallow minds believed it right away. People that wished us bad luck were rejoicing.

I got to the root of it only by hints and innuendos, as no one dared to speak openly with me about it. I stopped any intercourse with the poisoned humanity, the ones that readily accepted the circulating vile slander.

Dima’s spirits rose almost to madness when he heard the dreadful story of me being unfaithful to our love. I thought nothing could crush his faith in our shared future. The story was a lame one. Unfortunately, he believed that I could swear love to someone else.

The first night after discovering that his best friend was an instigator of the slander, a paroxysm of anger disquieted Dima’s breathing, and he bitterly reproached himself for the moment of weakness. His friend, a worthless reprobate, an impracticable fool, gave food to envenomed tongues, and they started to talk about me as if I was a little frivolous kitten going around and gifting my love to insipid individuals.

Eventually, Dima cut all ties with that false friendship. Forgot the way to his friend’s house. Wiped him off his phone contacts and social media accounts. He brushed the dirt of this acquaintance from his life. After what happened, Dima knew too well to keep such people at a great distance from his life.

My heart rejoiced when my parents and my elder sister took my side in this insinuated story. I felt strong support and stoic faith from them. My close friends showed me the true value of their relationship. People that sincerely wished me to be happy took pains to consider everything thoroughly. They recollected what they knew about me and found not even one reason to surrender to the falsehood circulating in the village.

This occurrence served as a great lesson for both of us. Dima’s so-called friend, being a jealous and wicked person, ruined our happiness. He did his utmost to bring about a fatal collapse to the true love between two faithful hearts. That unfortunate affair taught me to avoid provokingly jealous, heartless, and artificial people. I clean my life from any false attachment.

Today I make my life a pleasant experience, awakened by grand people. The mention of any piece of news that concerns me is heart-felt when coming from a loving soul and easily forgotten when coming from a distant and unimportant acquaintance.