People Fatigue – WTF? I know, I know!

It was my sister in law who famously described me by saying “She gets PEOPLE fatigue”.  

She was describing my lively social nature that has such a short battery life. What can I say?  It’s only taken me about 100 years to accept that The Natural Habitat of this beast really is the quiet mountain.  

Now, it’s one thing to know something about yourself. It’s entirely another to know that someone else GETS it! Not that you’re seeking some sort of validation. H3%ck no, we’re too old for that!  It’s just so lovely to feel that gentle voice mirroring back to us those beautiful words it’s okay,

Okay to be weird.

Okay to different.

Okay to go at a pace that isn’t exactly textbook, but a pace that feels right just for YOU? 

Photo by Josh Hild

Isn’t that what we all want!?   To shine our Weirdo Lights bright so that other weirdos feel empowered to let theirs shine bright too?

I’m sending you thoughts of love this week and I’ll be looking out for your special light. Okay?

Lee

The Power of Words

My husband said the most romantic thing to me last week.

“You’re a kind one” he said “don’t let them make you who you are not”.

Straight to the heart

Just like that, I remembered! Love helped me to remember my name and with that, I was back on track.

Forgiving easily,

Giving easily,

Back in the groove of being free, open, flexible ME.

That wavelength has opened so many doors for me over the course of my life (after I accepted that it was not being “WEAK”).

Interestingly too, that awareness of the nature of my highest self, has pushed me to draw boundaries and ring-fence my peace, keeping all things that threaten it well away. Yes, it has lost me some people but gosh, isn’t that the best part? That the more ME I am, the more the people, things and circumstances that are not aligned to that vibration drop off?

LOVE, I tell you. It’s always the way home.

Lee

Have you ever experienced PEACE? (A story about another’s faith)

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.

 

© Aluta continua, as they say.  A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

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Is THIS it? (A reflection on why the h#ck we are here)

Why am I here?

What is my purpose?

Why do I feel like something is missing?

How can I be happy? 

Is THIS it?

 

Yes, I know it’s only Monday morning but surely you also ask yourself these very questions too. We all do!

 

And I bet you’ve dipped in and out of books, religion, dark incense clouded rooms and travel in a quest to closer to the “answers”. We all have!

 

But here’s the thing,

…We are all here at THIS very time in THIS very place TOGETHER and we are here for an EXPERIENCE.

 

The experience of goosebumps.

The experience of being warmed by fire.

The experience of learning.

The experience of synergy, alchemy, mystery, magic, “God”.

The experience of blooming, ageing.

The experience of vitality, abundance, creativity.

The experience of whispers and loud bangs.

The experience of chemistry and connection.

The experience of rain, pain and sunset.

The experience of recognition, resonance, mastery, reward, acknowledgement.

The experience of tasting a lemon.

 

…and even the experience of loss, illness, abandonment, tragedy, fear, resentment betrayal, loneliness and jealousy.

 

That’s the full package . 

That’s why we’re here.

And yes, to me at least, that’s IT. 

 

I figure that I may as well eassssssse into the EXPERIENCE, learn to ride the waves and flow with the current. You know? After all, none of us are getting out of here alive.

 

I reckon we may as well surrender to the journey….

 

Can YOU?

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

 

 

 

Think Before You Speak

We were talking about, pregnancy, babies, stretch marks and labour. Stories were flying thick and fast. I had lots to say!

 

In a moment of sheer excitement, I turned to the woman sitting next to me and said “Right?! Did you also suffer from morning sickness with your two?! Blahhh”

 

She laughed. I cringed.

She laughed some more. I cringed some more.

 

I had known her for many years. I knew her kids too.  I knew that they were adopted. I knew the whole beautiful story of how that came to be.

 

You can only imagine my embarrassment when I realised I had asked her how it felt to have been pregnant with them!

She handled it graciously.  She said that she loved the way my heart leads me. (She found it endearing that I didn’t see them as her “adoptive” kids and that I made no distinction in my heart between her and the other moms around the table).

 

I quite liked that description.  So, I went along with it.   I walked away from there telling myself that I was all-heart (and only half blonde).

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016

 

P.S. Do allow me to wish you well as you try and think before you speak.  Aluta continua, as they say. The road is still long for me….

 

 

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.

 

Pleae don’t take it so personal!

A gentle little boy came over to our house to play.  My kids were delighted!

 

It was a beautiful hot summer’s day in Johannesburg and a thunderstorm was brewing.

 

My daughter took her favourite cookie, and came into the kitchen to cut it up. She wanted to share it with her friend. Something she refused to do for her brother. Ever.

 

While my daughter was busy with the cookie, the boy announced that he wanted to go home. My daughter was devastated. She was just getting started. What about the cookie?

 

After he left, she started crying “Mama, he doesn’t like me! He doesn’t like meeeee!”

 

It turns out that the boy was scared of thunder. He wanted his mom a bit more than he wanted my girl. Or the cookie!

 

I understood.

My girl did not.

 

She took it personally.

I understood that too.

 

 

….and that got me thinking:  Isn’t that just life huh?  Isn’t that just how the cookie, crumbles?  Very often, we take things personally when really, the shit going down has everything to do with the other person and little to nothing to do with us.

 

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016.  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.

 

 

 

 

A Village Missing its Idiot

My new friend told me that her husband didn’t like her talking to me. 

She would end her chats with me very abruptly and hurry away each time she heard him in the distance. 

I asked her what exactly the issue was. She said “he thinks you will give me ideas.”
 

The dude was right, in a way. I guess I did give her ideas but they were all about food. That’s all we ever talked about: food. She and I both loved cooking. 

I wondered what the thesis for his “ideas” paranoia was but didn’t dwell on that too long. I knew it was futile to try and understand his mental jumble sale. 

I bumped into him at a supermarket one morning. He pretended to be looking at something else. I was looking homeless, so I went along with the game.

When it happened a second time, I had to laugh. The dude seriously wasn’t messing around. I watched him stare at some Listerine for 7 minutes straight. 

They moved to another city soon afterwards.

She gave me no forwarding details because Mr Listerine told her that they didn’t need to keep contact with any “old friends”. 

I was relieved when they left. (Because God knows that a village somewhere was missing their idiot) 

© 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