Message from the Creator: You don't have to heal the world, just heal yourself. Aida Kosojan-Przybysz

Aida proposes a simple but effective exercise: 'I suggest, for example, that a person look at themselves from the side, but with loving eyes.' It's about a mental shift in perspective – to stop looking at yourself critically and instead adopt the attitude of a kind observer. In practice, this means imagining how we would react seeing a friend in the same situation: would we tell them they are hopeless, or rather encourage them to rest, drink some water, go for a walk? Aida emphasizes that many people, looking in the mirror, see only their imperfections and cannot react with tenderness. This exercise is meant to rebuild an inner dialogue based on acceptance, not judgment. Combined with the metaphor 'help yourself like a friend' (e.g., when someone is crying, we give them water), it builds the foundation of self-love, without which healthy relationships are difficult.

Aida tells the story of a client who was afraid of her state of 'powerlessness' – she couldn't refuse anyone, was good and available everywhere, but felt completely drained of strength. Aida, playing with the Polish language, suggested to her: 'Start saying no, and power will return.' The point is that 'niemoc' (powerlessness) contains the word 'nie' (no), and the lack of 'nie' takes away 'moc' (power). Giving up constantly pleasing others releases life energy and a sense of agency. Aida also applies this principle to people overloaded at work, who are afraid of losing their job and see no way out of the rat race; she then asks: 'Would you want your daughter to live in such stress?' – making them realize that lack of assertiveness is a form of self-destruction we wouldn't wish on our loved ones.

Aida argues that the lives of many families follow repeatable cycles – certain months favor births, others losses. Based on her observations, she suggests that clients write down dates and look for coincidences. For example, if children were born in February for several generations, then spring (May) is the time of 'sowing,' which is worth using when planning a pregnancy. Similarly, if financial crises have occurred in August for generations, it's better not to take great risks in that month. It's not a guarantee of success, but a kind of intuitive compass that helps align with the natural rhythm of the lineage. Aida also emphasizes the symbolism of numbers: it happens that a grandfather and granddaughter have the same birth date – it's a sign that souls return in 'revolving doors.' Such discoveries often bring relief and give meaning to seemingly random tragedies.

Aida describes a year as 365 bricks and 12 wagons, from which we built another wall of our life. Between the old and new year there is a door through which we enter a new space. In her opinion, the worst thing we can do is enter the new year with great regret – it's like stepping onto a white carpet in dirty shoes. That's why it's worth consciously leaving what is difficult behind that wall. Even if a tragedy happened and we lost loved ones, we can treat it as their return home, not just a loss. Aida advises treating the old year with gratitude and respect like an old person who is leaving. This doesn't mean we pretend it was good, but that we don't want to carry all that burden further. Symbolically, we 'take off our shoes' and enter cleanly, ready to become a new version of ourselves every day.

Aida is not afraid to give very direct advice in life-threatening situations. She cites the example of a girl she told to leave her husband immediately because her life was in danger; the girl only listened after a severe beating. Another client, a man psychologically abused by his wife, heard from Aida: 'Take yourself under your arm and if you have nowhere to go, think even about returning to your mother.' He eventually went abroad, separated, and is rebuilding his life. For Aida, staying in a relationship where fear, criticism, and lack of respect are everyday life is not love, but 'unlove.' Sometimes the only solution is simply physically leaving that place, even if it seems impossible. Aida emphasizes that you have to look for a way out, because living in such an environment is a slow death.

Aida points out that when we fall into states of emotional numbness, we often lose touch with reality – like people who haven't left the house for three days, don't eat, don't drink. In such moments, it's best to think about what we would do for a loved one in a similar situation: we would probably air the room, lead them to the shower, put a plate of soup in front of them. Aida encourages us to become our own caretaker and simply act – drink water, wash your face, go out on the balcony. This is not a weapon against deep crises, but a first step to coming to your senses, which can prevent the state from deepening. She warns against apathy towards oneself and points out that the ability to tell yourself 'help yourself' is the foundation of emotional independence.

Aida tells the story of a marriage that lived for many years in a so-called white marriage – without closeness, without conversations, passing each other like strangers. Only when the wife said she was leaving for someone else did the husband suddenly start fighting. Instead of aggression, they started talking to each other at length – and discovered they were still important to each other. This shows that in many relationships, people shut down because they don't talk about their true feelings, only about the logistics of life. Aida compares it to a dusty grand piano – it would seem it doesn't play, but you just need to open it and play to find it still has a beautiful sound. So she encourages not to assume that love has died out, but to try to reach for it through honest confrontation, sometimes even triggered by a crisis.

Aida argues that some people, after leaving a traumatic environment (e.g., a home with physical and sexual violence), are unable to forgive, but can consciously close that chapter. This does not mean absolving guilt, but acknowledging that they survived and are grateful to themselves for making it. She recalls the story of a woman who said: 'These are my lucky numbers, because I survived' – about a tattoo from a concentration camp. The key is not picking at wounds and not nurturing resentment. For Aida, 'a certain form of forgiveness is not nurturing that resentment,' but this differs from the necessity of forgiving the other person. Thanks to this, one can reclaim the present without being stuck in eternal resentment.

According to Aida, delving into family history is important, but when it becomes an obsession, it takes away contact with reality. People wait for apologies that may never come and freeze in time, while everything around them changes. Aida emphasizes that we are not trees reacting only to seasons – we have the ability to decide where we place our energy. Closing the past and gratitude for what we survived give strength for the future. Even if not everything can be healed, you can allow yourself a new beginning without the burden of all 365 bricks.

Aida tells the story of a couple where the husband cheated on his wife, and after a year of separation and the man's efforts, she decided to give him a second chance – they are now a happy marriage with two children. She also talks about a couple who lived in a 'white marriage,' without closeness, and only when one person announced they were leaving for someone else did the partner wake up, they started talking, and rediscovered their love. In this view, betrayal is sometimes a shock that interrupts lethargy and forces a confrontation with what they really feel. Aida does not glorify betrayal, but shows that even painful experiences can bring a lesson if both sides want to work on the relationship.

Based on her consultations, Aida notices that in many families there is a striking cyclicality: birth dates coincide with death dates, certain months are 'fruitful,' others marked by losses. She gives the example of her own family: her mother was born in 1949, and her daughter in 1994 – the same digits in mirror reflection. She advises clients to create a personal calendar of such dates and avoid hasty, risky decisions in months when the family historically experienced losses. Example of a couple trying for a child: if births in the family predominantly occur in February, it's worth trying to conceive in May. This is not fortune-telling, but careful reading of a hidden order that can support conscious choices.