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

 

 

 

 

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 pic above, 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.

 

 

 

 

 

Casting Call: Wicked Witch/Wizard

You know the funny thing about the people who behave the worst?

They’re the same ones who would like history to portray them as Mother Teresa. 

 

For me, your ACTIONS tell me your story.  You are what you DO, not what you pretend to you priest/Imam/grandmother that you do. 

 

My take is as follows:

1. If you want the story to portray you in a better light, YOU need to behave better
2. Fancying yourself the good guy/girl, but doing horrible shit means that you will be cast as the witch. Not Angel Gabriel or Gabriella. The witch!

 

That’s it, kids. School’s out.  You can thank me later.

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016

(Disclaimer: I found the picture of this old lady smoking online. I do not know who she is but sure would love to.  Whilst I try and find her, I do hereby declare that all copyright and the utmost respect is hers and hers only)

My Favourite Storyteller

She was our cleaner by day and our storyteller when the floors were shone.

She only had one English story in her arsenal and it was a killer. She had perfected the art of telling it, narrowing her air passages just enough to make the little birds sound angelic and gruffing up in a way that made you feel like the big bear and the snakes had morphed and were right in the backyard.

Her storytime always left us with mixed feelings. We were terrified that if we did not “be good” that we too would be captured by the snakes.  Her story had the desired effect. I was enchanted.

One day, I came home from school crying. Some rude girls had cut off a piece of my ponytail and said “Try and tell your mother…you will see.”

I did not want to “see”, so, I didn’t tell my mother. I told my favorite storyteller instead.

As I walked out of the school the next day, I saw her talking to the naughty girls. I was horrified. When I asked her what she had said, her reply was simple: “I told them a small story. I did my job. I think they understand”.

In that moment, my skinny little self realised the power and magic of how a simple story, can be told over and over again and have the desired effect over and over again. I was enchanted.

I tried to tap into that same magic while I boarded my tram to a storytelling event in Amsterdam recently. I had a great old story to tell. I hoped that the spirits would reward my bravery.

On my way home, I looked out of the tram window and threw a “thank you” prayer to my storytelling mentor in the sky.  I had mixed feelings about how I did.  I still have no way of knowing for sure whether my story had the desired effect, but it sure felt good to take that tiny step in the direction of my dreams.

My husband sent me a text message asking about the event. I simply replied “I told them a small story. I did my job. I think they understand.” 

A WORD OF GRATITUDE:

Dear Reader,

At the risk of sounding like a crazy esoteric caravan-woman, my heart is urging me to  wish you bravery as you look inside at the many things that have come into your life. Those shit things, those hard things, those moments of disappointment, loss and fear.  Bless them!  Bless also the happy things, those special moments with God & with your lover, the windfalls, lucky breaks, laughs and bursts of creative genius.  Those little things make YOUR story unique. They are your biggest gift and I wish you courage as you stare your imperfect life in the face & see how damn perfect YOUR unique story is.

Aluta continua, as they say. The road is still 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 Calling

I have answered a call and I am going on a journey.

A journey to rest, explore, connect to the magic that has called my names. All my names.

I am going to seek vibrations of ancient wisdom, to engage the feminine divine.

I am going on a journey to remember my past, to anticipate my future.

I seek nothing more than to remember my names. All my names.

I desire only to reignite the light at the centre of my being.

I send love and light ahead of my heart and say “Go on, brave one. Take another step forward in the direction of your dreams”

© 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.

The “Choice” to Listen

They had a history of twisting words.

So, when one of the two girls told me that she was worried about a rumour doing the rounds, I was sceptical.

But, I chose to listen. Simply listen and make no comment. 

Then, the other girl mentioned the same thing to me two weeks later.  She actually called me and said that she “didn’t mean to cause any trouble”. She also told me that she “didn’t like to get involved in other people’s business”.

Both statements were lies.

But again, I chose to listen.  Simply listen and make no comment.

It only occurred to me AFTER the final version of the story was told, how in fact, I had actually entered the plot.

Yes, there were many versions of the “truth” now doing the rounds and yes, I was one of the main characters in the movie.  ME!? The one who had said nothing?   Yes, me!

The thing is, whether I liked it or not, I had entered their story.  I engaged. I participated. Simply by listening. 

Once I accepted that I was part of the plot, I needed to strategise.   The way I saw things, I had two choices:

1. Ignore(and continue to be an UNOFFICIAL cast member in a story where my name was being dragged through the mud)
2. Confront(and become an OFFICIAL cast member in a story where my name was being dragged through the mud)

I chose to ignore it.

And yes, perhaps I have no balls.

Perhaps I am just wise.

Perhaps I know how to pick my battles.

I guess the jury is still out.  Maybe one day I will be able to say with certainty WHY I made the decision I did.

Until then, Aluta Continua, as they say.  The road is still 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.