In all the spaces where you cry alone, smile alone and think of all the dreams that slipped away
Forgive yourself for all you wish you had shared when you had plenty
All the sunsets you didn’t lift your head to notice
All those days when you tried but fell flat on your face
And buried your tears under tons of fake smiles, makeup, noise and wine
Forgive yourself for the jealous moments
The ugly sessions of gossip and untruths
Forgive yourself for not finishing what you started and not doing what you promised
Forgive yourself for staying
And going
And waiting
And watching days turn into months turn into years of what ifs
Forgive yourself for not taking a chance
And for taking too many chances
On the same old same old people and things that could-have/should-have/would-have but didn’t
Forgive yourself for losing hope
For looking outside for answers
For all the opportunities to grow and stretch and break free that offered you a ride you didn’t take
Forgive yourself for the seasons that went by in a flash
For forgetting where you come from
For comparing yourself to people whose paths appear lighter than your own
Forgive yourself
Forgive yourself
Forgive yourself
Forgive yourself for not forgiving yourself sooner
…and breathe!
xoxo Lee
~Written on a cold, Joburg morning while sitting on my kitchen floor where I saw the perfect sunny spot. I crawled up to it, grabbed a piece of paper, and let the download come in. Just like the sun!
Some weeks back, I got into an altercation with a dodgy auctioneer. The joke’s on me, because I have known him for years and let’s just say he has never claimed to be a saint.
I think human nature is always to HOPE. I have certainly fallen into the trap of thinking that if I am nice enough, if I perform better, if I say/do all the right things that I will be the lucky one who escapes the slaughter of the bullies and narcissists.
pic by Josu00e9 Barbosa
But it never works out that way because people do the things they do because of who THEY are, not because of who WE are!
I think I had forgotten this for a moment, as one lesson after the other in this vein kept popping up as though the Universe was saying “Hey Lee, I don’t think you got that lesson girl, let’s give you a double-dose next time bam $%*£!”
Now I can say with certainty, I GET IT! I GET IT!
Take a leaf out of Maya Angelou’s book, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them; the first time”.
And stay woke,
Lee
P.S. The pic I chose today is just something that I love because her face is so full of stories. Don’t you think? Wouldn’t you love to meet her and just listen for while?
As you know, I practice GRATITUDE daily but I also have a weekly practice that I want to share with you. I’ve been practicing this for over 15 years now.
Every Monday morning, I wake up just a little earlier than 5am (which is my usual prayer and meditation hour). The extra 15 minutes gives me time to time to write down stuff some.
I look to the week ahead and ask for special help with all “challenges” that are imminent. Deadlines, people, …things that I know are going to be hard! I write them down and I BURN that piece of paper.
The act of burning doesn’t make the challenges magically vanish! Don’t be silly. It simply empowers me to see them for what they are. Things that can be sorted. Some by me, some by others, some in the skies in ways I may never understand. Right?!
A Monday “ritual”
Here’s where I need your help, friends: I’m looking for a NAME for this practice of burning the piece of paper. Let me know if you have any ideas.
And do let me know if you are going to try it too. I would be so honoured!
My mom’s sister who died quite suddenly. It was the first week of lockdown in South Africa when she passed.
We got news of her death around 9am and all we wanted to do was rush to the family home to be with her children and her 80 something year old husband, from who she really was inseperable. They were married for 60 years or so.
I was so sad but I could park that. All I really wanted was to see my loved ones and offer support. I remember when my own mom passed, those people who just turned up on the day and DID were a Godsend. I felt I could be that kind of person in this instance.
Being the absolute nerd that I am, I managed to convince my husband that we should pop into our local police station to ask them what we needed in terms of permission in order to make our way to the family home on the otherrrrrrr side of the world. We had seen visuals on TV and social media of the army, of cyclists being arrested and I must be honest, the general air of fear and tension was palpable.
“Good Morning” I said through my mask to the two policemen at the door. They were tense too, but they listened to my story and immediately decided that yes, I should definitely jump on the highway and make my way to the bereaved. “Family” the one guy said “Family”.
“So, I dont need a permit or anything to go there for a prayer service or for the funeral?…” I tried to add, knowing that my Catholic family would want to get started on the prayer asap, particularly for a woman like my aunty who loved her faith.
Screeeeeching from the other side of a room I did not even see someone flying towards us.
“Back home!” she spat. “What do you think this is? A party? Do you know what lockdown means? There is no travelling! No partying. No walking around and shopping….”
Everyone was stunned by the absurdity of the statements.
The two policemen looked down. I thought I was dreaming.
“Umm, no mam, I have just lost my aunt…literally a few hours ago and I am her next of kin, so I was asking about what I needed to…”
“I don’t care!” she said “No means no”
“L O C K D O W NNNNNNNN she said mockingly. “It means you go noooooooowhere, my dear”.
Now my tears were beginning to come. The floodgates really opened when I made eye contact with the two policeman. They were looking down and shaking their heads. I only realised then that they reported to her. She was their boss and they were not going to be able to do anything for me.
I was sobbing. I could not believe that another human being was speaking to me like that. In a room full of other people. When I had just been shot in the heart with grief.
My husband, who had said nothing up to this point had the look. I know it well. Gentle Giant was giving her the who the fck do you think you are talking to look, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head slightly. That look only comes out once every like 12 years.
“Umm, tell me something…” he said, towering at least 100m above her head. “Did you hear the part where my wife said she had just lost her mother?” (In his culture, my aunt WAS my mother. No lies there).
“I don’t care what story she has” the woman said.
“Ummm sorry, mam? We are just here to …”
“Wait, love” he said. It was a firm and gentle, but gosh it was full of conviction.
My husband looked at the two men. Heads bowed in shame. He looked at me. Put his hands on his hips.
There was a long silence.
“Are you feeling okay?” My husband said, looking the woman directly in the eye.
Two more officers arrived. The air changed from an emotional one to something that my intuition told me could easily escalate into something ugly, where we were perhaps thrown in a holding cell and handcuffed, or worse.
That’s when one of the two officers became human again and said to my husband “I think it’s better if you guys go, my brother…”
He didn’t mean that we should GO to the highway and GO to the funeral home and GO be with our loved ones (which is just what we did, masks and all). He was firing a warning shot to us, to say that if we did not get out of there, there would be trouble. I took my husband by the hand and pulled hard.
Heartbroken, disgusted and defeated we arrived at the funeral home. That’s when something magical happened. As I entered, I felt this incredible Light. I walked into the funeral home filled with a Spirit of compassion, love, strength, empathy and support.
That strength did not come from ME, and that’s really what this long story is about.
Friends tell me that strength is The Peace that Passes All Understanding. In my culture, the Holy Spirit. In yours, your Higher Self/God, perhaps?
Trust me it will come when you need it leaving you, the spiritual being here on earth to have a human experience, in awe. And, in my case filled with so much GRATITUDE.
These are the moments, friends. These are the moments!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Where we don’t know the origin of the pics used, all respect and due credit are hereby given where appropriate. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and A Heart Full of Stories with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All media rights and copyright for the words reserved.
I met someone recently who thanked me for something I did for her 20 years ago.
I kid you not.
To be quite honest, I did not recall the detail or that act of apparent kindness at all. She tells me that it came at a time when she desperately needed a strong mother figure and that young-me stepped up.
I must say, our exchanges back then never did feel like “rescue” or “help” to me. In fact, I reckon I was the one who felt good. I was the one who felt useful. I was probably the one who felt high from the endorphins that make us drunk with purpose. That’s really all I remember about our interactions ~ how lovely I felt around her.
How cool?
Her testimony has since inspired me to write some random “Thank You” notes of my own. Because the stars know that there are plenty of people who have touched me over the years. And just like that, I’m part of an energy that keeps the magical vibration of GRATITUDE in motion.
Perhaps you feel inspired to hop on the train and thank someone today too? If so, I can tell you without a doubt that the wise ones were right: It is indeed GIVING that we RECEIVE.
I was sitting and writing in my hotel room, watching the bluest sea go up and down like digital musical notes while a lady who looked just like my late mother went about her business of cleaning my room.
I kept changing my position slightly in order to stare at her, wondering each time if she noticed. I was feeling naughty, bad, sad and weird all at the same time. It’s hard to explain.
I finally let up the espionage to take a walk along the beach. She called back at me “Lady, you dropped something”. It was a feather which I quickly picked up in a big red blush!
It was then that I felt this immense sense of Gratitude.
Gratitude for her presence,
Gratitude for the lesson,
Gratitude for way the dice landed placing me in a position to live the life I do,
Gratitude also for the luxury of being able to travel, write and tell YOU about the things that touch my heart.
I dreamed of days like this, I must tell you.
Days of random magic,
heart swells,
ocean air,
pink sunsets,
…and days when the old saying “feathers appear when angels are near” rings beautifully true.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Whilst we don’t know the origin of the pics used, all respect and due credit are hereby given where appropriate. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and A Heart Full of Stories with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All media rights and copyright for the words reserved.
The first time I heard the phrase“the peace that passes all understanding”I was sitting at the one end of a fabulous lunch table, casually popping a chunk of ice into my glass of Chardonnay. I had just lost my mom and someone asked me how I was coping.
Taking a big gulp of wine, I tried to explain to her that although I was utterly distraught about the void she had left with her sudden departure, I had this incredible sense of CALM that had come over me. “At first I put it down to shock. You know? A kind of inertia that my BODY had gifted to me in order to cope with the loss. Isn’t the BODY amazing like that?” I said with a genuine appreciation for the hormones that I believed had carried me to that place of peace.
“That’s the holy spirit” she replied matter of factly as she slowly dipped her piece of bread into a mixture of balsamic vinegar and olive oil. “I guarantee you, that is ONLY the holy spirit who can do that!”
Now, as the beneficiary of a lovely Catholic convent education (With a tonn of experience of telling fibs inside the Confessional. Judge not!), one would think that I would have been quick with something rather Bible-ly to say to her in return. Alas not.
The only thing I could manage was “I am so grateful!”
And truthfully, I still am. Grateful for the wine, grateful for the peace, grateful for being in the presence of someone with such unwavering conviction. God knows, that’s the kind of faith that moves mountains.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Whilst we don’t know the origin of the pics used, all respect and due credit are hereby given where appropriate. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and A Heart Full of Stories with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All media rights and copyright for the words reserved.
How the heck do we throw in the towel? Burn that damn bridge?
How do we even begin to surrender to the flame of change when the fire is getting bigger and bigger, hotter and scarier while we stand frozen?
I couldn’t answer that for a million bucks. But, I will tell you this for free:
None of us know for sure when/if to JUMP. Not Oprah, not Pope Benedict and certainly not the world’s “best” clairvoyant (no matter the “waiting period” she prides herself on).
BUT, there does come a point when we have to JUMP and know for sure that our wings will carry us all the way down.
I’m dreaming of that kind of kick-ass FAITH this week.
It’s a work in progress for me but I sure hope that your courage carries you where your heart is daring you to go…
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Whilst we don’t know the origin of the pics used, all respect and due credit are hereby given where appropriate. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and A Heart Full of Stories with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. All media rights and copyright for the words reserved.
Lee Mayimele - Writer 