A Monday “Accident”

After a rush to get the kids off to school, I grabbed my diary off my bookshelf and rushed out of the front door in my white Converse.

 

I sat down at my corner spot at my local coffee shop, pulled out my notebook and turned to November.  Damn! Wrong notebook. Many years old.

 

I flipped through it and I looked at the words. 

 

List after list

Chest pains

Deadline after deadline 

Anxiety

 

Stress

More words

More deadlines

More stress

 

I recalled it all. 

 

I must tell you though, the coolest feeling in the entire world was as I realised that all that was in the past. 

 

…and that the crap we stress about today, will also just be old words and old memories in scruffy notebooks one day too. 

 

Shucks, that’s a lovely feeling! Don’t you think?

 

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© Lee Mayimele

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What makes YOU smile? (You are Enough)

I received an email last week telling me that my poem “YOU are enough” had been pinned to a wall. A real wall in a real office that did not belong to me (or any member of my family).

Do you know what that means to someone like me?  

Firstly, it sows panic. It feels like standing naked at a traffic light. Because, let’s face it, once we have created something for public consumption, there is always the risk that other people think it is crap. The vulnerability is the price we pay for writing heart based words.

But, once the stupidity wanes and the light starts flowing from the ego, through the heart and permeating the creative soul, the gratitude quotient increases almost proportionately to the panic one decreasing.

THAT “ahhhhh” moment is what I experienced today. And, let me tell you, it is a fantastic feeling. It’s a magical place of understanding that my words are doing what they were birthed to do:  change hearts.

THIS is why I write. THIS is what gives me the most pleasure in the entire world.

Allow me to wish that you too find your “thing”. Your spark. Your calling. Your passion.

It’s a beautiful road to walk….

 

(Oh yes, here is the poem):

“YOU are Enough

…The time surely comes

When you put yourself first

When you regain your God essence

When you count your blessings

When you honour your sadness

When you give yourself permission to try

When you name your pain

When you stop calling your passion a “hobby”

When you keep your word

When you kick someone out of your emotional bed

When you alienate nasty creatures

When you write thank you notes

When you take more risks

When you stop trusting losers

When you approach people you need

When you say no to darkness

When you yield appropriately

When you say beautiful words of gratitude instinctively

When you sleep for days

When you trust your internal red flags

When you disappoint another heart

When you run your race and let others run theirs

When you clear everything on your vision board and start again

When you no longer mind being called emotional

When you equate self-respect with breathing

When you allow yourself to dream again

When you listen to a child

When you let yourself be touched

When you honour your calling

When you travel to places that call you

When you risk humiliation

When you press “reset” on your life

When you accept the shape of the parts you disguise

When you simply say “not today”

When you acknowledge those that guide you

When you start imitating yourself

When you draw a line in the sand

When you empower other people

When you forgive yourself

When you delight in the success of others

When you laugh loud

When you kiss your broken heart

When you are your own role model

When you emulate the speckles of light you see

When you tone down the noise

When you soothe your heart with music

When you dine alone

When you share your struggles

When you own your fears

When you unlearn your defences

…and on that day, may you know that YOU are enough YOU have always been enough YOU will always be enough End of story!

Aluta Continua, I say!  The road is 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 http://www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

 

 

The Cupboard & The Horny Old Man

My brother built a cupboard.

It was horrible. I walked into my mother’s home and it was the first thing I saw.  All tact flew out of the window and I said “That thing must go! It is terrrrible! God, it must go. Today!” 

He was lying sleeping on the couch. He threw his cover off and flew into a mad rage! A silent one.

I had NO idea he had built the cupboard. I also had NO idea my words had caused the commotion.

I was still focused on the cupboard. God, it was ugly.

My mother knew it was ugly too but she did not have the heart to say so. When she saw the explosion of feelings in her kitchen, her eyes met mine. They begged me to retreat. I ignored their silent plea.

I proceeded to contract my younger brother (read bribe) to tear down the ugly cupboard for me. We hatched a plan that as soon as the builder was out of sight, the plan would be executed.

The plan went well. The cupboard was torn down.

Very pleased with myself, I jumped into my car and planned to speed off before the cupboard artist returned. I turned on the ignition and there was the familiar sound from my young days. The damn car would not start. I tried again. It was stuck.

It was getting dark. I was annoyed.  My son helped my blood pressure rise by crying to get out of his car seat. His moaning was driving me insane.

That’s when I heard a call. A high pitched sort of voice. I looked out of my window and saw a man. A horny old man.

He was standing on his balcony, with just a towel around his waist. He said “Are you okay?” and I said “Yes, I am! My brother is just 5 minutes away, thank you”.

My son upped his volume. He seriously wanted out of that seat.

Next thing, there was a knock on my window. Yes, who else but the towel guy?

He peeked into the car. I was kneeling on the front seat with my bum in the air trying to reach my son in the backseat and calm him down. Yes, you can imagine the old man’s pleasure seeing that bum up close.

He said “Do you know what you can do with 5 minutes?”  and I replied “Call the cops and let them know that I am being attacked?”

“Attacked?” he said.

That’s when my brother showed up and we forgot alllllll about the cupboard.

© 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.

Let your “feelings” guide you home (Sister Stephanie)

I really started to trust my “feelings” when I was about 14.

I was tucked away in a catholic convent school far away from everything I knew and loved. I learnt fast to develop a “feeling” about people.  I also learnt to trust that feeling.  It was part of my survival kit. 

The “feeling” I had about my angry room-mate was spot on.  She had undiagnosed dyslexia and her anger was really just frustration.  When they discovered her wrists covered in blood, my “feeling” was that more trouble was headed her way.

I also had a “feeling” about the nuns.  One nun in particular. Her name was Sister Stephanie.  In stark contrast to her colleagues, she was full of life!  Whilst the other nuns were obsessed with discipline, routine, suspicion and punishment, Sister Stephanie was more relaxed.  She was an avid photographer and delighted in her art.  She told me that she was not a trained photographer and that she used her intuition extensively.  I knew exactly what she meant when she said “you just learn to trust your feelings, to let them guide you”. 

I got to know her when I contracted mumps.  She nursed me and I helped her sort out her printed photos.  I could not shake the feeling that sorting the photos would change my life, and once more, it took me two days to know that my “feeling” was right.  The boy I was in love with had been spending lots of time with one of my “friends”. The photos told me everything I had not known before.

The same girl offered me some new shampoo. Thank goodness that my “feelings” warned me against using it.   It was laced with hair remover.  When I turned up at the sports day with my lovely, shiny locks in-tact, she proceeded to dream up another plan.  And, it worked.  I woke up with no eye brows!  I must admit, I did not see that coming.

You can imagine my “feelings” when more than 20 years later, I read about Sister Stephanie on the front page of the newspaper last week.  To read about murder was horrible enough. To hear that she was raped too turned my stomach!  There are no “feelings” that could adequately correspond with the words I was reading.  There are indeed no words that I could use to describe my feelings either. 

I had to dig deep.  I had to find the words to write this story.  I had to learn to let my “feelings” guide me back to the words.  And I had to let the words guide me back to my “feelings”. 

Aluta continua, friends.  That road is long (for me).

I wish you well as you listen to your feelings this week, and allow them to guide you home.

© 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.