: Christiane P. Simon
: Light-flooded paths A journey from mourning to healing in Bali
: Books on Demand
: 9783753451923
: 1
: CHF 5.70
:
: Biographien, Autobiographien
: English
: 344
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
How Inspiring! Ray and Chris love their life together and fulfilled their dreams despite an incurable cancer. After Rays death, Chris experienced a fascinating journey from mourning to healing in Bali, the mystical island with a wonderful tropical nature, friendly relaxed people who live their spirituality.

Christiane P. Simon is a German author. She studied Art, German language and sports in Erlangen and Ludwigsburg, working as a teacher for many years and delegated in between to the Baden-Wuerttemberg Ministry of Education. During her masters degree at the University of Tuebingen she focused on questions: What strengthens people. What keeps their health. How does someone successfully cope with life crises. What makes people resilient. She is convinced of holistic health. Body, mind and spirit form a unit. Healing someone could be more successful, when the person concerned is involved in a treatment plan. The patients view of life, their experience and their knowledge about their own body are significant. Christiane P.Simon runs a practice for holistic health, relaxation and meditation. Sie is a trained systemic coach and meditation teacher.

Dreams!


Growing old hand in hand

“Hey, that tickles!”

My hand wiped the blade of grass away from my nose. I had nodded off to sleep. In my husband’s arms. At any rate I heard his voice just by my ear.“

Do you know what I’m hungry for, my dear?” No, I had not been expecting this question. I blinked hard, sat up and looked at him enquiringly.

“Gulai Kambing.”

I ignored his culinary excursion and tried to distract him. “What? Here on our comfortable wooden bench you are dreaming about food? How unromantic!”

Like a cat, I cuddled up to him and began to purr gently. He did not seem to be enthusiastic about that. My dear husband simply could not stop thinking aboutGulai Kambing. There was nothing I could do about it.

This somewhat warm spring afternoon had the effect of driving us out of our flat into the open air. Wanting to absorb the first rays of sun, we strolled hand in hand through the castle’s extensive park, looking in amazement at the first rhododendron flowers following their circular paths, the small yellow and white flowers pushing their way out of the cool earth towards the light and the fresh light green leaves of the sturdy deciduous trees.

From the top part of the castle’s park, we surveyed the vast lawn, with a slight downward slant, dominated by the ancient oak tree with its deeply scarred bark and projecting branches. We lay relaxed on wooden benches, which were just wide enough for two. For people who liked each other, as we did. Ray had pushed his arm under my head. We looked up to the sky and contemplated the small stratocumulus clouds on the gentle blue sky, which the mild wind of spring seemed to be blowing about.

“The bench is just tailor-made for us”, I could just hear myself saying, yet in the course of gazing at the clouds drifting by I must have nodded off to sleep. Until the blade of grass that Ray was using to emphasise his unusual request was tickling me on the nose.

“What makes you think ofGulai Kambing?” I asked, certain that I could not divert him from this subject. “We only eat that when we’re on the island of Bali.”

“Yes, I drifted over there with