This is exactly what our creator had in mind when they finalised my factory settings!
Few things make me happier than going to bed early + waking up early. It has definitely made me healthier and since good health is our true wealth, I’ll be the first to say thank you for being able to check the “wealth” box too (while I wait for the billions in the bank).
As for being “wise”, I guess being able to recognise what I have in this moment is the real measure of wisdom for me.
Am I wise enough to know that I don’t know?
Am I wise enough to know that every breath is a gift, every second in this body precious?
Am I wise enough to ask for help, change course, learn, stretch, surrender to both pleasure & pain?
Am I wise enough to never call myself wise
And, most importantly,
Am I wise enough to know when a carefully timed double shot of Espresso is required because life is not linear and mine is no boarding school?
I’m learning.
I encourage you to be you, to share you, to celebrate you. Imagine how dull life would be if we all loved our orange juice with salt?
Lee
I just love this little doodle my 8 year old did of me! He sure knows how much his mom loves her some Ed Sheeran “Bad Habits” in those mom jeans. As for the cute eyes, well…what can I say?
I was driving to my son’s Christmas market yesterday having just received notice from school about a Grade 1 pupil with Covid-19. My nerves were in a twist.
Since last Thanksgiving, about 5million people have died, South Africa is headed for a “fourth wave” and a new variant of the Corona virus (Omicron?) seems to be our next big threat. No wonder, I thought, No bloody wonder scientists have had to coin a new term.“Covid-19 Anxiety Syndrome” says it all. This pandemic has messed with our heads and we will have scars for many years to come.
Before we walked into the market, I spent some time alone to get grounded and centered. When I felt ready, I headed straight to the bar. That’s when I bumped into someone I haven’t seen for about 2 years. The first thing we spoke about was her cancer. “I heard you were ill,” I said, “How are you feeling?”
She generously took me through her journey, right from the lump she found in her breast and later her armpit to the double mastectomy, chemo and long road home. As she walked away with her two young children, something really stayed with me. She was so GRATEFUL! She told me that not only was she grateful to be alive but she was sooooooo touched people! Naturally, her friends and family were there to support her but it was the random meal drop-offs, help with the kids, kind words, flowers and support from people in her neighborhood that touched her big time.
The sense of gratitude helped to shift her focus from poor me to blessed-me! This despite the sadness, fear and trauma she is still working through.
Happy Thanksgiving Photo by Olenka Sergienko on Pexels.com
As the sun set, the sound of happy children, smell of boerie rolls, champagne glasses clanking and the odd glow in the dark toy lit me up inside. I was grateful for my good health, grateful for the wonderful night sky, my amazing mom friends and my tall, handsome boy who I watched laughing in the distance. But, like my old friend, it was the people that gave me the feels. Our community of love.
I wonder if scientists are going to coin a term called Covid-19 Gratitude Syndrome because just everything seems a little more special at this point in the game.
Last week South Africa could have been the setting for a horror movie.
I honestly never thought I would live to see my country like that and I pray that I never have to ever again. Scenes of factories burning, shopping centres being destroyed, looting and violence flashed across every TV screen and, try as I wanted to shield my children from it, I failed.
They felt the energy dipping as we checked our social media for updates. They heard the snippets of news on the short drives to the shops. They sensed the uncertainty and confusion as we tip-toed around the big issues.
Now I don’t know about you but if I remember anything about being little, things always seemed bigger when people whispered. So, we stopped whispering! Teachers were forced to do that too. My daughter’s English class via Zoom, for example, had to be put on ice for the teacher to field questions (and conspiracy theories) from learners. They wanted in on the conversation and it made me so proud to know that my kids have teachers in their lives who could hold space for such a tender dialogue.
We then received a notice from school advising of a MENTAL HEALTH DAY on Friday. A free day off school for kids to relax, de-stress, do a digital detox and reboot.
Whoooah, I thought. Perhaps this damn world really is waking up to the fact that we need to do things differently if we want to raise a generation of adults that don’t have to spend their whole lives recovering from their childhoods?
I’m hopeful. About South Africa. About the future of mental health and about Friday. I really think we’re on to something. Four-day work weeks are already totally in a thing in some parts of the world:-)
It’s school award season and I’ve been watching something with interest.
On the one hand, you have the proud parents posing with their children and the congratulatory comments from happy friends. Then there’s the ugly flip-side as the parents whose children did not win the big awards, turn to their friend’s Inboxes to whisper their conspiracies.
Yip, the Green-eyed monster is alive and well!
I have not engaged: Neither to post about my children’s achievements, nor to throw shade where invited.
HOW?
Well, it’s easy for me: I have a little symbol to whack me back into line.
This little symbol has always brought me back in line, helping me to ground myself in humility and also to avoid the temptation to compare. Photo by Jumana Dakkur
The Evil-Eye is traditionally a symbol to guard against jealousy but I use it as a note to self.
The one I wear on my arm is my daily reminder:
Don’t boast – Nobody likes a show-off
Don’t draw unnecessary attention to your home/relationship/material bounty – Envy is a biatch
Run your race and let other people run theirs – It’s a win-win
Count your own blessings and there will be no time to focus on other people’s – Gratitude 101
I’ve also learned from watching with interest how my muslim friends respond to a compliment (whether it be about their looks or the talents of their children) with the response, Masha’Allah, that is, “God has willed it”. Don’t you love that show of humility?
Perhaps this will inspire you the next time you find yourself edging towards the territory of the Green-eyed one again? It’s always good to remember that blowing out someone else’s candles never makes ours shine any brighter,
Lee
**If you’d like to learn more about The Evil Eye, I found this Wikipedia entry quite interesting:
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?
Miss Brown was one such teacher for me. In a sea of unkind, cruel faces she smiled. That’s what I remember about her. That she smiled and sometimes all it takes is someone smiling at you when you are a little person overwhelmed by eczema, family conflict, and maths to know that the world is okay.
My son may or may not remember his Grade 1 teacher but I will. She’s the kind that makes each child feel like they have their very own personal tutor and cheerleader. I have watched him grow and flourish under her covert strategy to “stretch” him. Teachers like her are rare and we are the lucky few.
Then there are those teachers who really should not be teachers and boy, oh boy, have I had some of those in my life. Back when corporal punishment was still allowed at school in South Africa (yes, I am giving away my age), one particular teacher who I still have the displeasure of seeing as an adult, took his role as “disciplinarian” so far, that many of the children that he beat up still have PTSD as adults.
Another gremlin teacher was the one who in my last year of high school, when I called the home phone (again, I am giving away my age) of the young gentleman who I had romantic links to…took the phone away from him and spoke to me. Yes, she was at his home and she was not there to give him English lessons. She made that very clear to me.
It was World Teachers Day last week. I wrote a couple of thank you notes. I also processed some of the old emotions related to teachers that were not so cool. That’s how these little memories came into story form now.
It’s also the reason I need to give a shout out to my MOM friends who have to be teachers every day of their lives but have also had to formally become teachers this year because of the Covid-19 pandemic.
Girls, I see you. I see you struggling to keep yourself sane. I see you carrying the emotional load of your family. I see you trying to create balance. I see you dying of loneliness. I see you having to put your dreams on hold for another year. I see you watching as things fall apart. I see you cooking endless meals, doing endless shopping, providing snack after snack. I see you trying to limit screen time while seeing the need for technology. I see you having to deal with your judgy in-laws, neighbours, and the rest of the peanut gallery. I see it all.
…and I salute YOU! This Teachers Day and always because we are all in the shit together.
I had to dig deep this week. So bloody deep this week. For patience. For strength. For resources. …and it was my little people who held me with their warm apple pie, fresh out of the oven, as I put my feet up after having held a sacred space for friends who lost their mother and had to bury her within 24 hours, in keeping with Islamic protocol. Apple pie, warm apple pie and my people saved me on Monday.
I had to dig deep this week. So bloody deep this week. For restraint For compassion. For calm. As I witnessed one human being abuse their power over another …and again, it was my people that brought me back, reminding me that my dear Aunt who passed on (a few months back) had her birthday this week and how she made the world’s meanest chicken pie. So, I made a chicken pie, said the rosary and we celebrated her life, with cake and all!
I had to dig deep this week. So bloody deep this week. To accept the many many wonderful doors of opportunity flying open in my face; To find the words to acknowledge the phenomenal teacher my son got as a gift for his Grade 1 year on World Teachers Day; To salute my daughter for standing up for a friend who was in trouble at school; To contain the love in my heart for the beautiful bottle of red wine my husband came bearing.
The best gift we can give to those we have passed on is to LIVE!
…But here I am this Friday, having just heard of the passing of one of my best friend’s dads.
And, so I dig deep again, to find that well of love inside me. It’s hard at first… But sure enough it springs up! Springs up! Springs up! Offering glimpses of light.
Don’t you love that!? That we are able to receive the gift of LIGHT when we need it most? Do you have a name for that which is always available, which is infinite, which is always accessible?
I’m just so grateful and I wish you that and so much more, my friends!
My mom’s sister who died quite suddenly. It was the first week of lockdown in South Africa when she passed.
We got news of her death around 9am and all we wanted to do was rush to the family home to be with her children and her 80 something year old husband, from who she really was inseperable. They were married for 60 years or so.
I was so sad but I could park that. All I really wanted was to see my loved ones and offer support. I remember when my own mom passed, those people who just turned up on the day and DID were a Godsend. I felt I could be that kind of person in this instance.
Being the absolute nerd that I am, I managed to convince my husband that we should pop into our local police station to ask them what we needed in terms of permission in order to make our way to the family home on the otherrrrrrr side of the world. We had seen visuals on TV and social media of the army, of cyclists being arrested and I must be honest, the general air of fear and tension was palpable.
“Good Morning” I said through my mask to the two policemen at the door. They were tense too, but they listened to my story and immediately decided that yes, I should definitely jump on the highway and make my way to the bereaved. “Family” the one guy said “Family”.
“So, I dont need a permit or anything to go there for a prayer service or for the funeral?…” I tried to add, knowing that my Catholic family would want to get started on the prayer asap, particularly for a woman like my aunty who loved her faith.
Screeeeeching from the other side of a room I did not even see someone flying towards us.
“Back home!” she spat. “What do you think this is? A party? Do you know what lockdown means? There is no travelling! No partying. No walking around and shopping….”
Everyone was stunned by the absurdity of the statements.
The two policemen looked down. I thought I was dreaming.
“Umm, no mam, I have just lost my aunt…literally a few hours ago and I am her next of kin, so I was asking about what I needed to…”
“I don’t care!” she said “No means no”
“L O C K D O W NNNNNNNN she said mockingly. “It means you go noooooooowhere, my dear”.
Now my tears were beginning to come. The floodgates really opened when I made eye contact with the two policeman. They were looking down and shaking their heads. I only realised then that they reported to her. She was their boss and they were not going to be able to do anything for me.
I was sobbing. I could not believe that another human being was speaking to me like that. In a room full of other people. When I had just been shot in the heart with grief.
My husband, who had said nothing up to this point had the look. I know it well. Gentle Giant was giving her the who the fck do you think you are talking to look, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head slightly. That look only comes out once every like 12 years.
“Umm, tell me something…” he said, towering at least 100m above her head. “Did you hear the part where my wife said she had just lost her mother?” (In his culture, my aunt WAS my mother. No lies there).
“I don’t care what story she has” the woman said.
“Ummm sorry, mam? We are just here to …”
“Wait, love” he said. It was a firm and gentle, but gosh it was full of conviction.
My husband looked at the two men. Heads bowed in shame. He looked at me. Put his hands on his hips.
There was a long silence.
“Are you feeling okay?” My husband said, looking the woman directly in the eye.
Two more officers arrived. The air changed from an emotional one to something that my intuition told me could easily escalate into something ugly, where we were perhaps thrown in a holding cell and handcuffed, or worse.
That’s when one of the two officers became human again and said to my husband “I think it’s better if you guys go, my brother…”
He didn’t mean that we should GO to the highway and GO to the funeral home and GO be with our loved ones (which is just what we did, masks and all). He was firing a warning shot to us, to say that if we did not get out of there, there would be trouble. I took my husband by the hand and pulled hard.
Heartbroken, disgusted and defeated we arrived at the funeral home. That’s when something magical happened. As I entered, I felt this incredible Light. I walked into the funeral home filled with a Spirit of compassion, love, strength, empathy and support.
That strength did not come from ME, and that’s really what this long story is about.
Friends tell me that strength is The Peace that Passes All Understanding. In my culture, the Holy Spirit. In yours, your Higher Self/God, perhaps?
Trust me it will come when you need it leaving you, the spiritual being here on earth to have a human experience, in awe. And, in my case filled with so much GRATITUDE.
These are the moments, friends. These are the moments!
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?
How’s your week been, friends? I have so much to be grateful for.
My children tried something new and their enthusiasm has been so inspiring! (Particularly my daughter, who has a love affair with her duvet).
They’re been working out twice a week with a Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) trainer. He has them doing squats, lunges, karate kicks and sprints. Just when I think they’ve had enough, he throws in one more thing and you know what?….they do it! Turns out the challenge gets them going.
So, I took a leaf from his book. I got them involved in the kitchen for a bit more than our usual Sunday bake off. Oh, please don’t ask about that. It’s this wonderful thing we’ve been doing every Sunday for about 4 years now and we really have baked some wonderful things over the years. This week though, we made some Cannoli (or as my littlies call them “Ma’s Caramel Horns”, because my mom used to make them):
The were insane! Imagine the faces of my little humans who got to boil some Condensed Milk and witness the magic of it turning into “caramel”.
I also got to burn some Palo Santo for the first time (OMG!!!!). I wrote lots, spent some QT with the hubs, hit some golf balls. I signed books for Secretaries Day coming up, I’ve slept well, eaten well and we even got to cuddle some bunnies.
I call these moments The Little Things.
Being grounded in GRATITUDE helps me not only to see them, but to really pay attention to them. With a full, full appreciation for the magic.
How may of those moments did YOU have this week?
Did you pay attention to them? Trust me, the more you do, the more they will show up. It’s the law of the universe.
Lee Mayimele - Writer 