How I nearly MURDERED a Random Act of Kindness

A locksmith came to my house on this icy Monday morning.

Diagnosed a small problem

Fixed it

anddddd, wait for it, absolutely refused to accept payment for the call out.

“Consider it your lucky day” he said.

 

And you know what? Instead of letting Lady Luck give me feels, I immediately went into a mild panic.

How can I accept that?

His time?

His fuel?

Poor guy!

Look at his broken car! 

Whooooo does that?

Perhaps I can promote his business?

Maybe I’ll do a Facebook post?

I must pay it forward!

How much should I randomly donate?

Ah, maybe I’ll invent another few jobs for him? You know? Pay him double?

 

I know, right!? Gosh! Someone did something nice for me and I simply could not accept that RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS. I had to spoil the gesture with my own crap.

 

Yes, I am going THERE.  Because it’s the truth.

 

Bottom line is that I give so freely and it gives me so much pleasure. The wavelength of GIVING, really is my best. But, it would seem that I have a real problem with ACCEPTING things. Gifts, compliments, random acts of other people’s kindness. This, despite my knowledge of the fact that the vibrations of GIVING and RECEIVING are each other’s oxygen. They need each other in order to exist.

 

I know the theory. But, my actions tell that I haven’t quite learnt to walk the talk, so to speak.  

 

So, here I sit this Monday morning and,

It’s still icy

I’ve diagnosed the small problem

Now I need to do some more work in order to try and “fix” it 

And I absolutely DO consider it my lucky day!  

 

Because I’ve cracked yet another code about myself.  Isn’t that’s really why we are even here? To try and understand why we do the things we do?  This journey of Self-Mastery is hard work hey?

 

So, I guess all that’s left to say is Aluta Continua.  That, and, how very grateful I am today and every day for the little gifts along the way.   

 

In Gratitude,

Lee

 

 

Copyright Lee Mayimele – All Rights Reserved

Warning: Kindness is Dope

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.

Try it. Thank me (29 years later).

Lee Mayimele

Chief Storyteller

What makes YOU smile?

I throw salt in my orange juice

I eat the lemon garnishes in drinks

I purposely wear to my clothes back to front sometimes and have been known to cut the arms off brand new designer wear just because “I like it better that way”

 

I recite the rosary

I read erotica

I write random thank you notes to people

I prefer my red wine chilled

I wear a dress 363 days of the year

I quite dig my greying hair

I photograph churches, mosques, synagogues

I cry at the drop of a hat, both when I’m angry but moreso for kind words, a glimpse of the ocean, grilled prawns peri peri, the national anthem, memories. You know?

 

I love rap and Mozart, the opera and karaoke alike

My books are my fiends

I love to eat. I love to eat with my hands more

I keep my inner circle small

I am usually the first in any group to wake up and also usually the first to go to sleep

I don’t eat bread when I drink alcohol

I like to observe Lent and celebrate Eid too

I collect feathers and lavender, designer vintage handbags and boy, oh boy, do I collect random people

 

But hey, do you know why I’m telling YOU all this crap about myself this Monday morning? It’s very simple really.

It’s not to bore you with a million sentences starting with “I”. Nope!

It’s simply a public service announcement that goes:

I AM UNIQUE. Just like YOU.

The impact I make on this planet is one of a kind.  Just like YOU.

The story I have to tell is a story only I can tell. And guess what? Yip! The same goes for YOU.

 

Now that I have your attention, the CALL TO ACTION is really quite simple.

I encourage you to ask yourself, “What makes ME smile?”

Then chase that crap!

Because honestly, there is no one in this entire world exactly like YOU and we all need the magic that only YOU can bring.

 

Aluta continua, as they say. I wish you the courage to stand out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking for GOD? (A short “Soul Sunday” reflection)

 

Don’t look for me in holy books or so-called holy people.

That’s not where you’ll find ME.

 

Don’t hurriedly hunt me in secret places, special buildings, strings of beads, ancient scripts, in potions or in star alignments.

 

Get quiet!

 

Then,

Look at the fire coloured sun, rising and setting without you having to do a thing;
See the butterfly, the migrating birds pulsing to a vibration of pure precision;

Listen to the waves crashing, a choir singing, the cry of a newborn baby;

Smell the fresh earth after a thunderstorm;

Feel the high of a meditation, the warmth of a touch, the tears that run when the soft smell of a deceased loved one wafts through your home;

Tune in, and you’re getting close.

 

Don’t chase after me in holy water, special foods or men who claim to “know”.

 

NO,

I’m more likely to be in the eyes of your lover, a generous stranger, a homeless man;

I’m more likely to be the laughter of children, the gentle push of a teacher, your gran’s dusty kitchen floor;

I’m more likely to be in the tingle of strawberries, the soft rain playing jazzy tunes on your rooftop;

 

YES,

That’s more my style.

 

For I am GOD, my child,

The creator, narrator, the connector of the dots.

The beginning;

The end;

Foremost an artist! Second to none.

 

All light comes from me, and all light flows through you.

 

AND,

How will you know when you’ve found ME?

Ah, that’s the easy part: You’ll just know!

I designed you that way.

 

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

APOLOGY:

It seems there were some gremlins in yesterday’s post, trying to scramble text and give me more grey air. Luckily, we’ve now sorted them out.

 

 

 

I remember the day I was born (A “crazy” story about a memory)

Guess what?  I have the very vaguest recollection of something said to me on the day I was born.  I kid you not.

 

Yes, I know that sounds crazy but just today, while I sat up at 5am waiting for the sun to rise, I sort of remembered it from 40 years ago. Honestly, I did.

Now, there were quite a few people present at my birth (it was a home delivery with a house full of people) so it could have been anyone. I recall an actual whisper of something into my ear.  I also know for sure that it was sweet and that it told me of the blessings that would lie ahead for me.  Perhaps it was a prayer? Perhaps it was simply a “welcome”?  I mean, it could even have been angels, ancestors or my own soul’s voice saying “oh hi” because it had been here before?

 

Now, I get that you’re thinking that I’ve truly lost the plot this time  (and that’s always a possibility) but I implore you to trust me on this one. So, please do listen to my story a little while longer…

 

Of course it could have been a dream. Of course it could just be something I saw in a movie.  But, have you considered that it could totally be true?!  That I remember?

 

Isn’t that magical?

 

Isn’t that just why we’re on this planet?

To crack open the magic?

To listen to “wild” stories?

To experience miracles?

To explore the various aspects of “possibility”, both of things we understand and accept and then more importantly of the things which are not widely understood and accepted but are certainly no less of a “truth”?

 

I thought you’d say YES!

 

Because here’s the thing. That’s what we ALL want:

To engage the MAGIC,

To understand our PURPOSE,

To explore all aspects of the mystical, spiritual DIVINE and to excite one another with our unique expressions of what we see/feel/taste/sense/remember as we go along.

 

YES, there it is! I see that little light flickering in your heart’s memory too. Go there…it’s your work!

 

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

 

 

 

 

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Dancing & Dreaming (A story about the power to create)

Now whooooo is that famous person who said “Some dance to remember. Some dance to forget”?  

 

Oh yes! It’s the famous Hotel California line. But hey, before you get excited, do allow me to express upfront that this is not that kind of story.  It’s sadly not about a wild youth filled with drugs. Wrong storyteller.

 

It’s about:

Dreaming

Dancing

Remembering

and Forgetting.

It was nearly full moon of the Winter Solstice and I was in a full moon kind of mood. So, along I went to a “Sacred Dreaming and Dancing” Ceremony.  I thought it would be an hour long. It turned out to be more than 6 hours. Yes, 6 hours of dancing. Beyond midnight.

 

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am NOT a beyond-midnight kind of person. Those same people will also tell you about my stamina.  I am a weakling on both fronts.

 

But, I needed to dream. 

And I do have an amazing imagination.  So, I pressed on.  I visualised myself with long grey hair, living in a stone house on top of a beautiful hill where I could see the ocean down below.  The house in the dream was full of light in Summer, full of melancholy in Winter. And, as the seasons changed, so would my soul-inspired writing.  I would be guided by my intuition to write about Gratitude, Grace, Love and Blessings during the 10 month long summer and Sorrow, Loss and Fear during Wintertime.  God knows, I could write about all those things with absolute ease.

 

So I danced. 

I tried some of my sexy belly-dance vibes at first but soon enough eased into something a lot more Kate Middleton. More my zone, actually.

 

And so I started to remember:  

I remembered my power to create. The absolute magic of visualisation.  I remembered my dreams as a child. I remembered every single step I have taken and continue to take towards my dream.

 

At the end of the 6 hours, I was in a bad mood. I was cold. I was tired.  But mostly, I was pissed off.  They had told us we would EAT and then presented us with cold (organic no doubt) paw paw. Paw paw at midnight? That’s the part I wish to FORGET! 

 

Still, I jumped into bed that night happy, satisfied, full of smiles.  But on second thoughts, perhaps it was just the Big Mac from the DriveThru that did that.

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016

 

P.S. Friends, do allow me to wish you well with your own dreaming.  Hold on to the vision.  See it clearly.  But please, do remember that it is never too late to dream a new dream. Change that shit if you change your mind!  Nothing is cast in stone. This is YOUR life. YOUR dreams. YOUR way!

Aluta continua, as they say….

 

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

 

 

Chaos in the City

A bridge had collapsed across the highway. There was chaos in the city.

I had heard all about it on the news but after collecting my daughter from school, I decided to take the “short cut” and drove straight into the very site of the chaos.

Yes, I know — shortcuts never work.

My daughter fell asleep in the back seat of the car, with the sun giving her whole body love.  I had to keep plotting and planning. I had 12 minutes to collect my son.

I accidently touched some Bluetooth button on the car phone and the stupid thing started dialling! I swear, I tried to stop it but God knows I am a technological snail. It was dialling someone I honestly did not want to talk to. I pulled into the emergency lane, going very slowly to try and deal with the stupid thing.

The man’s voice said “Hello! Hello!” I said nothing. The voice was coming out of the speakers in every corner of the car.

I just kept silent.

I prayed hard that my daughter would not wake up and go “Mama! Mama!”

I prayed even harder that if she woke up and I slid my index finger across my throat (to show her that I meant business if she did not keep quiet), that she would not scream “whyyyyyyy do you want to kill me?” because then the Bluetooth person would surely do an FBI on us.

My prayers were interrupted by a policeman. I was being pulled over for being in the emergency lane. Thank God I wasn’t in the middle of the knife-across-the-throat scene.

I felt like explaining that it WAS an emergency but I didn’t need any further complications with just 8 minutes before my son’s pickup. I also appreciated that a lack of planning in one corner does not constitute an emergency in the other. 

I decided to tell the truth:  I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

They say that the more you sweat, the luckier you get.  Well, the back of my T-Shirt was drenched as I watched the policeman smile and allow me to continue to use the emergency lane.

My daughter woke up just as we arrived to collect my son. She said “I need a drink!”  “We ALL do!” I replied.

© 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

How do you know if you can TRUST someone?

My friend asked me,  “So, how do you know if you can trust someone?” and I replied “Well, if you have to ask IF you can trust them, then you already know the answer.  You can’t”.

It was New Years Eve and we were heading to a big party.  She was talking about her boyfriend. I was talking about my philosophy.

I believed it 100%.  For me, trust is absolute.  There is no room for a single doubt. And, in the instances where there was a teeeeeny bit of a doubt in my head, my heart has almost always stepped in and red flagged things for me.

The thing is, I don’t always listen to my heart.

So, I walked into the hairdresser and she looked dodgy.  She looked grumpy, hung over and barely greeted me.  I saw the client who was leaving and thought to myself “Shit, am I about to trust that tart with my hair? That woman’s hair looks fried!” 

It was a trendy hairdresser.  Trendy and bloody expensive.

I went ahead and trusted the “professional”.  My heart could wait.

I heard a timer go off. I stuck my hand up!  She took one look at me and said “Trust me, darling, I don’t need you to help me do my job”.

We both laughed. It was not funny.

My scalp started burning.  I didn’t want to stick my hand up again but I had to! That, or I would have wet my undies.

She walked over and said to the lady who was her assistant “Please wash!” and she rolled her eyes.  As the lady washed my hair, she was making sounds.  Not good sounds.

My hair had melted.  The chunks in the basin felt like spaghetti.  Mushy and white.

When my friend came to collect me, she was in tears. She barely noticed my hair.

She said “Whyyyyy don’t we learn?”

I replied “Yes! Whyyyyy do we trust people when everything in our bodies screams DO NOTTTTTT”. 

She was talking about her boyfriend.  I was talking about the hairdresser.

And, we agreed.  Once you have to ask IF you can trust the person, you bloody-well know that you can not and you should not.  (Or you will end up single on new years eve or with hair that looks like the inside of a donkey’s intestines!)

Aluta Continua, as they say hey? The road is long (for me). Hopefully, I will listen to my own advice one day.

© 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.

Enlightenment is Hard Work!

They say that when what you FEEL, what you SAY and what you DO are aligned, that you are on your way to enlightenment.

I was a long way from enlightenment this weekend.  What I was feeling, what came out of my mouth and what I had to do, were all just one big yawn!

It was one of thoseeeee ones.  My son was teething and the rest of the family was feeling the pain. At 2 hour intervals throughout the night, he kept waking his sister. Each time I got him to close his eyes, my daughter would call my name and wake him up again.  My husband and I danced in the dark all night, from spot to spot, as and when the screams dictated.

And this movie continued all night long. 

Naturally, all of us woke up grumpy.  I knew that some coffee for me, a bottle for the baby and a glass of milk for the toddler would help. I walked to the fridge.  We had no milk. We ALL needed milk.

It was 6am on a Sunday after a party with lots of champagne.

I needed to wake my husband.  For milk.

The milk arrived and was served. Just as I sat down for my coffee, I saw it.  Projectile vomit from my teething son.  Directly on to his sister’s hair.  (Now, the hair story is one for another day but let’s just say that there are curls for days and lots of spaces for the pieces of vomit to hide)

I needed to give her a bath and a hair wash.  Naturally, she didn’t want her brother to join her.  Naturally, her brother wanted to join her.  Naturally, I lectured her about “sharing and caring”.  Naturally, there were more tears.

By 8am the sun came streaming into the living area, Barney was working his magic, the coffee starting doing its job and my husband returned from his run full of energy.  The kids ran to him and said “Papaaaaaa!”  I fell in love again.  Big time!

Breakfast at a beautiful organic market in the countryside was just what the doctor ordered.  Enlightenment was around the corner. 

Once out in the countryside, the kids were beautiful. They walked hand in hand, wore their hats and said their prayer before sharing a croissant. My daughter said “Mama, he’s cute hey?” as he sang a song.  Theseeeee were the kids I ordered from the catalogue, I thought.  These precious little gifts from God.

I didn’t want to return them afterall.  I decided I’d keep them.

My husband ordered some bubbly. We needed it.  We toasted to the sun, a crap night, a better day.

That’s when we saw the cutest couple.  Hand in hand with matching sunglasses.   They were looking for somewhere to sit down.  The guy agreed to talk to the manager while his girlfriend went to the loo.  The only table available was in our section.  The guy said “God no! We hate kids” and walked off, determined to find something farrrrrrrrrrrr away from the playground.

The girl returned from the loo and walked straight into my daughter pretending to be a horse, with her brother on her back.  She said “Oh my God! These kids are the cutest. I can’t wait to have some! I adoreeeeeee kids”.   She picked my son up, put him on her hip and held my daughter’s hand.  She was a natural. She was glowing.

The puppet show was about to start and the kids ran off.  We pretended to be looking at them but our ears were on high alert.  The guy returned and said “Oh, there you are! I told the manager how much we hate kids”. 

My husband and I were frozen.

My heart hoped that she would SAY what she was FEELING and then DO what those feelings desired.

But, like me.  Enlightenment evaded her.  She said “Oh great, honey.  Thanks for that” and gave him a big kiss.

Allow me to wish you well on your journey to enlightenment, friends.  May what you think and feel always find the right words and may you DO that which will take you towards the light.

Aluta Continua, as they 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 www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.