A magical Part II to the Kind Stranger Story

Dear Friends

I’ve had so many responses to my story about the stranger who paid our bill yesterday. Thank you! How did I get so lucky to know so many wonderful people? I’m thinking about HOW I can get you all involved in something meaningful that we could do together. Thank you. 

That’s not why I am writing though.

Something even more wonderful happened after I published my story yesterday. One of my friends wrote a post on my Facebook early this morning to tell me how much she loved the idea of “paying it forward”. Like so many of you, she was also inspired. So, off she went to breakfast. She was sitting there, planning to paint the world with kindness today. She contacted me again a couple of hours later. Guess what happened to her? SOMEONE PAID HER BILL! I kid you not. 

I am absolutely blown away by the power of our intention. I know the theory. I just need to see it in the flesh every now and then. 

Don’t we all? 

xoxo

Lee 

ORIGINAL POST FROM YESTERDAY FOR THOSE WHO DIDN’T SEE IT (plus a pic of the toastie you have been drooling over)

There are some really nasty people in this world. Trust me, I have had my fair share of them over recent months. From the word-twister to the gaslighter, from family members playing one against the other to the repeat cry-wolf types. 

But, damn there are some amazing human beings on this planet.And, again I didn’t really have to travel very far (not that I could) to find them. 

Just this morning, I was sitting with a friend having one of my most favourite meals : a piece of sourdough toast, slathered with a thick layer of hummus, topped with sliced avocado, grilled balsamic basted baby tomatoes, a couple of blocks of rich Danish feta, rocket and a poached egg. Yes, all on one piece of toast! 

If this be my last meal, make that a double portion of hummus, please! 

So, there I am, staring into my friend’s amazing emerald eyes (which seem to pop because of the absence of her hair which is tucked into her hijab) having a foodgasm when the waitress pops over to let us to knowsomeone paid our bill.  And, like every good superhero, they vanished without a trail. Can you imagine!?

My friend’s reaction was the one I want you to focus on though. She said “thank you. We’ll pay it forward!” 

I’m inspired guys! I’m inspired by what kindness can do. I’m inspired to give more and do more and be more. 

…and I think I am going to heed her call to action and pay it forward more than I usually do. With a full heart and grateful for all the moments that just land in my lap to remind me to focus on the things that matter. 

Will you join me?

xoxo

Lee

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

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!

 

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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

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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.

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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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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.

 

 

 

 

 

The Aura Don’t Lie (A short reflection on ENERGY and INTENTION)

Have you ever noticed how one person can enter a room and the whole mood just lifts? Or how the same vibe simply drains when another arrives?

They call that stuff ENERGY. And, it introduces you before you even speak.

Today, I am grateful that I have learnt to trust my own radar on “energy”.

It has never led me astray…

 

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A Heart Full of Stories ©

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. 
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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)

Stuck in the Mud

My car was stuck.

In the mud.

Yes, stuck in the mud and it was not a game.

 

I had to get to an important meeting.

I still had to get dressed for the important meeting.

My clothes were at home. I was 5km away from home.

I had no power at home. My clothes still needed ironing.

The clever part of me thought that perhaps I could go and buy some new clothes, to get to the meeting…but I was stuck.

 

I tried reversing.

I tried going forward.

My wheels were spinning and all that happened as I tried to “fix” the situation, was that the mud got deeper and deeper and my car said “No! You are stuck!”

 

Now, on another morning I would have laughed this off. But, this Friday morning was part of a whole week of feeling “stuck”. You know?  One of those weeks when deadlines come and go, decisions stall, your bank freezes your account, your car keys go AWOL, and someone parks you in?  All of those things had happened to me in just ONE week!

 

Stuck.

 

And now mud.

 

To top it all, I was feeling a bit hung over, hungry and grumpy. I should have known better than to have 3 BIG glasses of wine on a school night, but yes, that’s a story for another day.  I should also have known better than to trust the person who told me that eating 4 huge cloves of garlic would not give me bad breath (because it was roasted and not raw).

 

So, hugely paranoid about my breath, I jumped out of my car in the pouring rain to run across a field to find someone to help me. Yes, I could have just called someone.  Yes, indeed I could have done that if I had my phone with me.  You see, that’s what happens when you are stuck.

 

My story does not have a happy ending but I can tell you that I made it to the meeting on time. I can also tell you that when 4pm finally rolled around and my son ran into my arms (via a muddy puddle), I was soooo over the word STUCK.

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Trying hard not to scream, I removed his little white sneakers and thought:  My guardian angels must surely have hearing problems. They probably misunderstand me all week as I said my other favourite word, which happens to rhyme with STUCK over and over again. 

 

Aluta continua, as they say. The road to CLARITY is long.

 

© 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

“Shock & Anxiety”

The hailstorm was horrible and my daughter was crying.

 

We had just dropped our new cleaning lady off 15 minutes earlier. I wondered if she was still standing in that terribly long line at the taxi spot. I would have loved to go back and collect her, but could not risk driving in the storm. So, I called her. There was no response.

 

When she returned to work the next morning, I asked her about the storm. She smiled and said that it was “not so bad.”

 

I was relieved.

 

As I was driving out, I saw a woman approach my door. She was carrying a medical kit. I was intrigued. So, I waited and watched. She went inside my house and did not come out.

 

I recognized her right away. She was that nosey neighbour who walked around the hood with a notebook, marking down things that had nothing to do with her (like cars parked in the wrong spots, or bins put out on the wrong day).

 

I waited another 30 seconds, expecting her to emerge, after realising she was at the wrong house. When she didn’t, I had to go and take a look. The domestic worker was lying on the couch, covered by a blanket. The neighbour lady was making some tea for her. I was frozen. I just watched, as though transfixed in a movie scene.

 

The neighbour was there to “treat” her for “shock and anxiety”. I said “Oh really? Why?” to which the lady replied “Yes, that storm really shook her up, poor thing.”

 

I could not stand to watch the movie any longer. I just shook my head.

I had no idea that the neighbour knew the cleaner.

I had no idea why the cleaner had put an SOS through to her and when.

I had no idea that the cleaner would let a stranger (to me) into our home and allow her to go into my kitchen to use my cups to throw a tea party in my absence.

 

I needed treatment for “shock and anxiety”.

 

So, I got into my car and drove to my sister for some “tea”.

 

© 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

Do YOU Over Promise and Under Deliver?

I believe in under-promising and over-delivering.

But, if truth be told, I never really feel like I am on top of my game as a parent.

There is always a sock with a hole, a teacher’s birthday I forget or a tooth fairy duty that nearly slips my mind.

As I stood at my kitchen counter, I stared at the half-eaten chicken pie that no one said thank you for. I looked around at the yoghurt smears on my curtains. I read the note in my daughter’s diary, reminding me of an outstanding indemnity form and I thought: Gosh girl!….are you sure you are qualified for this gig?

I couldn’t dwell on the thought because I needed to give my kids a bath. They had jumped into the mud, right after I told them to stay clean.  We were on our way to a dentist appointment.

I snuck in a quick photo (who doesn’t love a muddy face?) before I turned on the bath tap.  There was no water. Our cleaner reminded me that if I had read the letter on the fridge, I would have, and damn right should have, known. Boom!

It was a rough day at Mom HQ.

As I walked into the dentist with the two kids from Mudville, the nurse and I got talking straight away. She was a lovely old woman with a round back — an observation pointed out to me by Miss Mudville herself.

The old lady had lost her daughter 50 years ago. She had been standing on a pavement, minding her own business, when she was knocked by a car. She died instantly. She was just a young girl.

I asked her how she ever found the strength to live and she said “The memories! The memories are all we have in the end!”  She pulled out a small album and shared her most prized possession with me. Her pictures of special family milestones.  I saw muddy faces, spilled drinks, and grazed knees. The other thing I noticed was smiles. Smiles and kisses, hugs and laughter.

I drove home, observing the fighting and moaning coming from the back, and thought: “Of course I am qualified for this gig. The giver of life chose ME by name! Remember?”

We stopped off at the ice cream store and my daughter said, “I thought you said NO ice-cream because we are muddy?”

Now, how do you explain the under-promise and over-deliver concept to a child?…

© 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.