Tag Archives: #writersblock

The Mountain That Healed a Broken Soldier

Receive life with much philosophy and nature… — Olya Aman

G. shuffled through life most of the time being far gone indeed. His mood being as dark as the grave, his face being as weary as the days of his past, and his voice as harsh as the hollow moaning of the damp unwholesome wind.

He was not yet past 36. The horrors of the war left no trace of the memory of a happier existence. These marks of cruelty and anger buried every trace of love and affection he had ever known. Darkness and nightmares watched G. as he slept and was awake.

Exposure to the wet morning grass, cold fresh mountain air, and many animal-friends brought on belief in good, frank, and honest till the first days on a battlefield. An effort to come back to his native place was the only way to recover his life force back again.

Only coming back home to his old and shabby house, senile forgetful mother, simple-hearted coarse childhood friends, and his ancient failing horse, he began, at length, by degrees, to get better. How deeply G. felt the goodness of his surrounding in his native mountain village, and how strongly regretted he that the ill-advised desire to escape in a search of a better life led him to the war.

Who can describe beauty and tranquility of a mountain river and snow-covered tops and hollows? Is it possible to imagine life without the pureness of that balmy air full of grass’ and flowers’ fragrance?

Life as it should be, love as it was created, and friendship as it was intended—healing emotions, and curing energies of nature didn’t wash away crowded, pent-up memories of the war, but a life of toil and peace in the atmosphere of pure, almost untouched plant and animal life made those memories Past, and not Every-Day-Haunting Nightmares of the present anymore.

G. started a chain reaction of a nature healing process by contacting his battle comrades and inviting them to visit his poor farm.

People in mental struggle come from all over the world to find contentment and peace again. Working together, improving their life, cultivating earth and personalities, they share memories and feelings.

True felicity of pure and most amiable generosity of people around; the warmest, soul-felt gratitude creates an attachment to the place and mental state of peace itself. The earth in her mantle of brightest green is glad to accept wounded hearts and treat them with a cheerful serenity that gives vent to the tears which now a person is unable to repress. And when the eyes are full of water, the remedial river is covering the troubles of today and the worries of the past.

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.

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.”