Energy Don’t Lie (A reflection on how people make you feel)

I always remember how people make me feel.

I feel full of energy, light and vitality when I’m around some people.

I feel full of anxiety, fear, nervousness and lethargy when I’m around other people.

And, this month I’ve been paying close attention to those feelings.

I’ve noticed that it has nothing to do with the circumstances I meet those people in.  I could meet a woman who just lost her home in a fire she’d still have a calming energy.  Conversely, I could meet a holy man carrying meditation beads exiting a church and only feel anxiety after our exchange.

This fascinates me.

Quite intuitively then, I have been spending lots of time in introspection about this. It’s a perfect time too with the last days of Lent, the falling of brown leaves, crisper mornings, and the closure of a year-long period of mourning for me.  I am grateful that I have the time to go at this unusually slow pace (for me).

The penny really dropped on my morning walk in a nearby park yesterday when I went so far out that my sensibilities screamed red flags in many colourful languages, begging me to return to my car. Just then, a man approached me from the side and startled me.

Still, I felt calm. I felt energised.  Happy to walk, talk and share the path leading back to our cars, I was grateful. (I must admit it took way longer than I would have liked because he was…umm…rather heavy). I drove home feeling energised, happy, grateful for that energy exchange.


In gratitude, I thought I would write about it this week, looking to assure you that if you go slowly, listen attentively, allowing your intuition to guide, you will also gain insights into what and who lifts you, and who and what drains you.

Are you feeling me?  If so, I urge you to move softly, paying close attention to the energy of the people around you.  Where you can, surround yourself with the ones that make you feel like you’ve just eaten your favourite warm pudding.  

That energy is life.

Reflections of Lee-Ann Mayimele, All Rights Reserved

A Family Reunited (A story about a kidnapping fancied as a rescue operation)

A homeless man lived on the street with his two dogs.


As I snailed by in the morning traffic, I watched him feed them, arrange water in two stainless steel bowls and touch them lovingly day in and day out. It was quite lovely to observe their friendship, which happened to play out in full view of the public on a busy stretch of a main road where they lived.


Someone else who had been observing them on her daily commute, felt compelled to “help” him. So, one sunny summer’s day she hatched a plan to kidnap the dogs on the pretence that she was taking them to get food. She promised to be right back. Then, she drove them straight to a shelter for abandoned and rescue dogs and to my mind, drove herself home quite chuffed with her “good deed”.


The heartbroken man spent the next week roaming the street, talking to people and looking for his loved ones. He had no idea that he had been scammed.


The woman spent the next week, I would think, avoiding the man and talking to her friends about her kind rescue operation.


Somewhere between those two realities was the stranger who galvanized a whole community to find the dogs. People came forward in a show of solidarity, empathy and community and pieced together bits of info that eventually tracked the dogs down to the shelter and reunited them with their owner.


I saw the man with his dogs as I drove by today knowing that he will never know just how his public display of LOVE has warmed so many cold hearts passing by.


Today, I am grateful.



© A Heart Full of Stories, 2017


A Letter to a 20 Year Old ” Nice” Girl (On International Womens Day)

Today I wrote a letter. I had to. It’s been 20 years or more and I didn’t want to leave the words caged a day longer.

Opening the floodgates for the words to flow was, in fact, the hardest part of the exercise. Once I allowed it, the emotions sprang forth quite boldly, as if perhaps that was their destiny.

My letter (which I burned instead of posting), was one of PERMISSION.
Permission to be. Just be.
Permission to fail.
Permission to try.
Permission to shape shift.
Permission to outgrow.
Permission to shine.
Permission to fall apart.
Permission to hedge.
Permission to ask for help.
Permission to express pain and fear.
Permission to desire.
Permission to disappoint another.
Permission to detour.
Permission to rest.
Permission to go off in a direction that no one understands.

The fuller-bodied girl who I wrote the letter to knows all these things now but back then, gosh….back then, she was so very caught up in her quest of the veneer of being “nice” that the Levis 501 wearing fox pressed pause on her ability to live freely, authentically, wildly.

I ended off my letter by saying,
                          Darling, if only you could see yourself through my eyes, you would know that “perfection” is over rated. You would also know that you are enough. So bloody enough! ALL parts of you are okay. Not one of the parts you’ve guarded, veiled, denied, concealed and curated so carefully are “bad”. So, please do fall apart, deviate, desire, dare to disappoint. Do go to the darker-shaded parts of yourself. Visit a while. Let them guide you. They are there to show you little avenues you may otherwise never venture to explore. And, we do know that you love a good bout of exploration. Bon Voyage!  P.S. Your butt looks great in those Levis!




© A Heart Full of Stories, 2017