Surround with silence for a moment... silence like fog, visible and elusive blends into the breath of everyday words. Listen to her without limit...
The windy London day, interspersed with the rays of the late May sun, fills me with the nostalgia for past 34 years.
Countless folding books are the main attractions in our living room.
I decided that today I would devote most of my time to reading and thinking about the beauty of this world. About love, harmony, the richness of nature and the beauty of the soul. The world of magic and dreams. About our thoughts and their wonderful power of attraction.
While my husband is still tangled up in a sleepy amok occupying the bedroom, I vigorously traverse the imagination trails of incomprehensible thought corridors. Yeah, it's gonna be a lovely day.
Books and the enchanted world in them have always been a precious gift of life for me. Starting with their fragrance - each of them has its delicate fragrance. Those from my grandmother's attic were permeated by a slight smell of dust and old paper, which caused me a thrill and an indomitable desire to read as much as possible. These new ones, straight from the printing house, gave a sense of fresh energy, and these borrowed ones had a part of their owner, they were marked and a little steeped in their soul. - Through the knowledge, wisdom and magic of the word.
A few days ago, after a wonderful weekend at our beloved Kohler family, while waiting for a taxi, I searched Monica's library in the hope of finding an interesting book, because those I have had a long time, and some even several times. I was looking, I was rolling... Until I finally found a blue position leaning out of line...I quickly grabbed it in my hands. I smiled at myself, reminding me of a passage from one of the books of my beloved C.R. Zafon, who said that it is often the case that it is not we who choose the book, it is the book that chooses us. And that's how I felt, and I felt that she was the one who decided to put a little bit of weight on me, watching carefully, centimetre by centimetre, a glowing unread position. Regina Brett "You're a Miracle"... - hmm I'm a miracle - I sighed again, embellishing my face with a broad smile. - Moon!? Let me look after this publication.
'Sure, I haven't even read it yet, but I've bought so many books lately that I'm busy for a few months,' she added, satisfied by browsing through one of the achievements. This was another good publication and I can easily join the private collection of Soul Balms. I've been through and I've been studying each of the 50 lessons on how to make the impossible possible. The lesson—as it turned out on days—which I most needed at the time was number 22. It was a story about how the author and her sisters, during a trip and penetration of Sedona, decided to read their works in the back of one of the New Age shops. "[...] Looking at our auroras, a woman found something fascinating to say about each of us. [...] When it came to me I told her that I was not sure if she would see something because my head hurt [...] A woman watched me for a while and then she asked: -why does your head hurt? - I don't know - I answered. - yes, you know. [...] I was frozen by its tone. Maybe she was right. Did I know the answer? I focused for a moment and asked myself the question "Regina, why your head hurts" in reply I heard "because you walked in the sun without a headgear" [...] I do not remember what I learned about your aura, but this woman taught me to listen to myself - first ask the question to myself, look for answers in my soul and nowhere else. [...]"
At the end of the day, my legs hurt even more than ever. I felt my legs explode, they swelled like a balloon and they'd explode any minute. And the horrible feeling that's been growing for the last few days. I couldn't sit still. Irritated and sore, I'd wander around the house buzzing like a wasp. And then I fell like an elephant on the couch sitting on something very uncomfortable and hard.
I looked at her for a moment. I took off my slippers, lifted my legs, closed my eyes and after a long time, surrounded by silence...I asked myself "Martha, why do your legs hurt" the first voice jokingly replied "because you have Lipoedemia, a disease of sore fat"... After a while, however, he added, "for two days you have no longer practised your morning and evening yoga, and for the weekend deluded by the atmosphere you ate the sausage, do not fool yourself you ate two expensive grilled sausages. Fat, grilled sausages... no wonder the legs are tormented." I opened my eyes and looked at my two swollen limbs with the tenderness of "I'm sorry," I whispered, smoothing them as gently as I could.
After a few deeper breaths, I decided to unfold the mat and start stretching... I felt the muscles start working and the body is encompassed by the wonderful magic of endorphins. The thirteen-minute mantra of Ra Ma Da Sa (about which I learned from Agnieszka Maciąg's books, a woman who inspires and heals human souls) miraculously complemented the healing process of my body and soul, which so badly needed my support.
Yes, our body speaks to us every day. Pain, and discomfort, give us signs that something needs something, that we did not take care of it as needed. That we ignored his safety and health.
Our life with lipidemia doesn't have to be about pain and mobility. If we trust our body and fully focus on our inner voice and listen to it immensely, the answers will come to us. If we take good care of our beautiful legs, if we consistently provide them with good foods full of valuable nutrients, if we give up animal fats, fried foods, and simple sugars and add activity our legs will love us infinitely and we will not even feel that we are suffering from such an unruly ailment.
With love for you and your legs.
Nutrition vs Lipoedema