The Power of ART to touch the HEART

I was drawn to a lady.

 

I saw her in the window. Not in an Amsterdam Red Light District kind of way. No, it was a statue of a lady to be exact and she was beautiful with the aura of a wise old soul.

 

I wasn’t sure if she was for sale, but I followed my instinct and went inside.  Aha, I thought, I am a genius! My friend’s 40^th birthday was coming up, and although I was more than one month early, I was sorted. I could tick her gift off my list.

 

After she became mine, the lady stayed in my car for a day or two. Then I moved her to the office. She looked happy.

 

When we closed for the Christmas holidays, I moved her back to my car.  She didn’t seem to mind that either.

 

But it was only until I mounted her in the perfect spot in my home (okay, this is still sounding Red Light-ish), that she really seemed to come alive.  What a magnificent piece of art she was, revealing her essence slowly and seductively, ever so subtly like a Picasso may have done.

 

My fascination with the lady grew each day. I noticed she was holding her hands together, palms up, as though she was either offering or accepting something.  I loved that I didn’t know which it was and that I still needed to find out exactly what she was up to.  The mystery intoxicated me.

 

Days went by, and she was still mounted.  I justified her hanging to myself by saying “It needs to stay out of the way of the kids” but God knows, I was planning a coup. Her spell was cast and there was no way I could entertain the thought of parting ways. Not yet.

 

When my friend came around after her holidays, I was so delighted to see her.  She brought spices and spices make my heart sing.

 

While I was opening the wine, my daughter stormed into the kitchen and said “Mama is soooo mad, you know!?”

 

The holidays had been long and I must say, the manners-barometer was shaky.

 

My friend played along, “Yes, darling. Why is your mama so mad?”

 

“Well, you see that” she said pointing to the lady.  My heart pounded hard. “Well, she bought that for yourrrrrrrrrr birthday surprise, but now she says it’s hers and you are getting a…..” 

 

My reaction was swift.

 

I said “Damn kids of today!” and rolled my eyes.

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015.

 

P.S. The lady remains in my care. And the mystery of whether she is giving or receiving or doing both is still driving me mad. (Again, no PG 21 SVNL tones whatsoever are intended by that statement)

 

COPYRIGHT:

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

“Charm” is sooooo last season

Someone told me recently that I had changed.

He said that I was no longer the “charming girl” I used to be.

I let that bullshit sink in.

I let it get to me. I did!

Quite deflated, I went home thinking “charm? I thought I had lots of charm?!”

That evening, I got into bed feeling off centre.  I looked at the wrinkles around my eyes, my sagging chest, the greys around my temple.

But, sure as the morning sun, I woke up feeling none of the crap from the day before.  You see, for me, mornings bring magic.  I am focussed and centered at 5am and I take no bullshit.

I walked up to the same mirror that showed me the not-so-charming girl the night before and thought to myself, that person was damn right.  I am damn right no longer a “charming girl”.   I am now a phenomenal, strong, centered, opinionated, WOMAN.  A woman with a vision. A woman with a purpose. A woman with children. A woman with God at the centre. And gosh, if that ain’t “charming”, then who the hell cares?

The girl who had no grey hair, no lines around her eyes was awesome and “charming” for sure, but God sure knows that she was not on fire.  The woman in the mirror was on fire!

So, I did my meditation in gratitude, as I always do, and wrote “Today, I am grateful for my continued growth, evolution and powerful centre as a WOMAN on fire”.

Besides, charm is in the eye of the beholder and if the fire is too hot, then a step to the left may not be the worst idea.

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and http://www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The “Brief”

I ordered two young girls.  No, not in a strip club.  I called an agency that dealt with students.

I was organising a large trade show and two of the regular staff members had called-in sick.  I needed backup promo girls.

The brief was simple.  They needed to use their good looks and charm.  Not to get anyone into trouble with their wives. No, just to welcome dignitaries to the event, usher them to their seats and drive alongside them in golf carts twice a day. Simple right?

The first couple of days went well!  The girls were well groomed.  They were professional and I got the feeling that they really understood the integrity of our brand. 

That evening, I saw the girls drinking.  They were off duty, but still at the function.  They were drinking tequila with the important people, and laughing a bit too much for my liking.

As I drove home, I considered that perhaps I was just hormonal.  I had, after all, just spent 15 minutes expressing milk out of my breasts during each lunch break.

The following morning, they were back on the job.  Using their good looks and charm once more.

I heard one of the girls say “We have the best job here. All we have to do is look hot and make the men melt”.  The feminist in me cringed slightly, but I guess they were right.  That was the brief.  Well, I would have settled for something that left out the “melt” bit, but ja, I guess those mama hormones were pretty damn powerful. 

The next morning, one of the girls was in tears!  She was insulted by a text message.  It was from an important client telling her that she was “fat and ugly”.

The HR gurus in our team took over quickly.  They processed the facts and paid due attention to the sensitive young girl.

I was angry.  Angry and sad.

That’s when the other girl appeared in my office. She said “She’s lying”.  She was talking about her colleague.  She claimed that the girl fabricated the text message because “none of the guys like her”. 

I realised there was trouble.  My anger dissipated.  I was just sad. 

I decided to butt out and let the professionals handle the rest of the drama.

But, it left a very bad taste in my mouth.

I didn’t need to know who was right, who lied, who the victim was and who had actually made the girl cry.

The fact is, she was crying.  And, it was about SOMETHING.

So, friends, that got me thinking about the lengths we go to in order to execute “the brief”.    And the position we put other people in when we describe “the brief”.  Because, let’s face it, this story isn’t about whether the girls should have been given a better grounding, whether the men who rule the business world need to change or why sex sells, it really is about boundaries and self-worth.

May every situation you are called to engage in this week, have clear guidelines, crisp boundaries and may your personal mandate always serve the best, and highest version of you.  

Aluta continua, as they say.  The road is still long (for me).

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.