Gratitude Again!

Yogananda said: “Don’t wait for reversals to make you grateful for what you had.”

Shoo, that one hit me in the chest guys because let’s face it, this is our nature as human beings. We stare our healthy bodies/happy kids/safety/relationships/security/financial security/good fortune in the face and it’s only when we lose one of those things that we realize what we had going. Right?  

I’ve cultivated the habit of making a daily Gratitude List. In fact, I make several a day (on paper/on my phone) and I have done this for 15+ years. Every.Single.Day.  

It’s a bit like brushing my teeth or going out for my daily walk sometimes. It’s a slog! I can come up with a million reasons I should postpone starting it or not doing it at all, but once it’s done, I’m like … “Girl!?” 

My lists are often simple and things like my housekeeper Mavis, my children’s teachers and food top my list, but just yesterday, I had over 30 items on my Gratitude list. They just flowed. 

It was a simple, shitty Monday of chores, no-Mavis and dreary weather but I had things like:

1. Old McDonald had a farm (on the piano by an 8 year old!) 

2. Spinach from the garden 

3. Take away coffee from the hubs 

4. My Dishwasher 

5. Fireplace 

6. Bookclub stash 

8. Walk with Celeste

9. Home Office 

10. Birds galore 

11. Chats with school moms 

12. Found my keys! 

13. Boy scored goal in hockey (hates hockey) 

14. Girl happy to perform in school concert (eek) 

15. Great meeting with editor  

16. Prawn rissole from heaven

….okay, I’ll stop there but you get my drift.

I didn’t have to wait until my body was too sick to walk or my garden too barren to give me spinach to appreciate the glory of these little moments. I saw them and I winked in absolute gratitude for all the many blessings. 

And I tell you, the more I do this, the more I want to. Always.

Lee 

Do What you LOVE & the rest will follow…

I want to tell you a quick story about my book, Musings – Reflections of Gratitude.

When I wrote it, I thought I had accomplished my mission. I thought it would go into bookstores and I could sit my bottom down to rest and write again. But, life had other plans for me.

For a good year and a half now, I have been signing copies of this book. I kid you not. It has gone to print over 6 times and not a week goes by without a stream of corporate gifts walking out of my front door. Each person who bought it, seemed to think of many other people (moms, friends, grannies, colleagues) to whom they wanted to gift the book.

Don’t laugh! That’s my game face (tongue & all)

There are many nights when I find myself sitting at my dining room table, surrounded by hundreds of pink gift bags, pink ribbon, pink tissue paper with my little people packing the personalised books signed Mary, Sophie, Lebo, Maria, Fatima et al.

You see, what I have come to realise about this book, is that my job was not simply to write it, my job was to LIVE it. That is, the lesson about giving and receiving. About being truly grateful.

It has truly been a labour of LOVE, one which I have truly been rewarded for over and over again.

Talking about love, support and all things gifty, I’ve partnered with the lovely mom duo Debbie and Lauren from The Domestic Dolls for Women’s month and you can order signed copies of the very book for your besties, your bookclub, your staff members and all the wonderful women in your life through this website : https://the-domestic-dolls.myshopify.com/collections/books/products/musings-reflections-of-gratitude

Don’t forget to tell them how grateful you are for all they are and all they do.

xoxo

Lee

Why I was late, why my iPad was pregnant and why I hate yoga

I believe in being punctual, well prepared and flexible.

I was on my way to a storytelling event. Although I had prepared well in advance, I arrived five minutes late. Now five minutes is no misdemeanor for sure, but for a time-stickler like me, it’s a self imposed spot-fineable offence.

I was late because my direction-bearings were off and I had taken the tram in the opposite direction to where I was going. Then, my Uber driver was grumpy, so asking him to speed was out of the question.

The first person speaker was a beauty. A dark haired woman with the biggest smile — the kind you see in toothpaste commercials.

I caught her story in the middle : her husband was having an affair. 

I listened attentively as she waved her hands while giving an animated (and very detailed) account of how that affair drove her into the arms of a lesbian lover and then right back to the arms of the new and improved version of the very same husband.

She radiated light, vitality and sunshine. I loved listening to her bare her soul. People were drawn to her light.

I was up next. It was a hard act to follow.

I turned on my iPad just to get to the right spot for my storyguide and it was dead. Just dead.  I had no backup notes and as I fumbled in my handbag to try and find a pen, the American voice called out my name.  It was showtime.

Instead of sharing the beautiful story I had written about how I was forced to confront my bully, I had to make some shit up. Fast.

I said “I believe in being punctual, well prepared and flexible. So, I am here to tell you why I was late today, why my iPad is pregnant and why I hate yoga.”

The laughter helped me to relax and I continued to waffle off a lot of crap.

After the event, the toothpaste commercial girl said “You know, your story and mine are pretty much the same.”  I wanted to reply that I had never had a lesbian affair but said “How so?” instead.

She flashed those sick pearly whites and said “In the end, we only regret the risks we did NOT take.”

And, she was right. The risk of telling that story opened up yet another door for me and today I am grateful.

© 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

Trust Issues

I walked into the room and I could tell that they had been talking about me.

The tension told me that it was not good things.

One of the girls was my friend. The rest of the people I hardly knew.  Someone said “So, how was your weekend?”

The spotlight was on me. 

I saw a few shoes shuffling, heard a few throats being cleared.  The anticipation of my response was causing shifts in the room’s energy.

I said “It was relaxed. I did a bit of reading.” 

The next day, my friend called me up and told me that she was “concerned”.

She had been hearing rumours. Over tea, my friend began to unpack her concerns.  She started with my account of my weekend.  The truth is, I had donated some money to a charity and they had published a picture of me in the local newsletter. I did not know this.  She did and the fact that I did not see it fit to tell a group of strangers how charitable and wonderful I was, was a clear red flag for her.  She ended off by sharing with me that she had spent “some more” time counselling my boyfriend. They were near a breakthrough and hopefully he would “change”.

 

I was stunned. 

Firstly, I believed in my right to privacy, especially around philanthropy. I also knew nothing of my friend and boyfriend’s Dr Phil meetings and I most certainly knew nothing of MY hand in “pushing him over the edge”.

I was seriously stunned.

Fortunately for me, that chapter ended many years ago and I was both friendless and boyfriendless at the end of it, by no proactive choice of my own.

But who knew that in my middle-aged days of nappies and botox considerations that I would have to revisit the story.

You see, last week I sat in a room where everyone was talking about someone else’s husband and she walked in.

Someone asked her a leading question. The spotlight shone brightly. The energy in the room became greyish brown. There was shuffling and throat clearing. The tension made me start peeling the gel off my nails.

I was stunned.

Although they were all complete strangers to me and I was merely an observer sitting at the next table, I was seriously stunned.

So I closed and eyes and said “Thank you” for every weed that removed itself from my garden.  And then I continued to watch the dear woman proceed to answer to her audience.

© 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.

Twenty Something & Crazy

I arrived at the office at 6am. I rehearsed my speech a few times.  First at my desk.  Then in his office. I was planning to do that a few times more before my boss arrived at 8am sharp. But, as life would have it, he arrived early.   He neverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr arrived early.

“Oh!  You’re early too?” he said.

That’s when I had to make the decision.  I could either talk to him right away or let my nerves win and postpone the chat to another day.

I dived right in.

I asked him to let me take leave of 1 week.  No, not to go to Thailand.  I wanted leave to go and try out at another job while keeping the safety net of my current job!

Mad, right?  Who does that?  

The background is that I had just received an offer for a great new job!  It was a new company and everyone was talking about them.  They wanted someone IMMEDIATELY, so I told them that I would negotiate that with my current employer.  And, that’s what I planned to do.  Negotiate.  I came armed.

He said “Well, I can let you go for 1 week”.  I heard angels!  “But, if you want my honest opinion…..”   The angels stopped.  (I hate those words.  “Honest opinion?” What’s that supposed to mean?  Are some of the opinions not your honest ones?)

Anyway, he said “If you want my honest opinion, I don’t think you are good enough for that sort of environment.  Maybe in a few years’ time.  Of course you are very bright, don’t get me wrong (another phrase I loathe) but it needs someone a lot more mature and….ummmm…..I don’t know.  I just don’t think you are ready”.

I put down my weapons.  Negotiation over.  I hurt. For two seconds. Then, I smiled.  I did it!  I did it, I thought.  I just did the scariest thing my 20-something old self could imagine!

After a Strawberry Daiquiri in the sun after work that afternoon, I proceeded to buy my first designer pin-striped suit and I marched on into the unknown.

But hey, if you want my “honest opinion”, I do think I was pretty damn crazy!  But look at us now, sitting and writing stories about those wild days of youthful guts.

Aluta continua, my friends!  The road is long (for me).  Allow me to wish YOU many beautiful moments of crazy ideas, mad leaps of faith and unconventional routes to your scary hallways too.