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!

 

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.

 

 

 

A Prayer Answered

If you have ever lost someone you love, you will know that it sucks the life out of you.

 

Standing at the shore, I let my heart break. The pieces fell hard and wave after wave picked up a piece and took it away. Completely centred, I stilled myself more, allowing the feelings to come and the waves to go.

 

Softly, the tears fell. Softly too, the waves came in perfect rhythm.    

 

My prayer that morning was a simple one :  I asked that the same one that made the waves, the same one that made my sad heart, would hold my mother in tenderness as she traveled back “home”. She had just passed away and the smell of her still followed me everywhere.

 

Looking back at the footprints and with the sound of the waves getting more and more faint, I realised that the prayer was not only about my mother. It was also about me. For me.  I needed her to journey well, so that I could journey well too.  My happiness was contingent on it.

 

Knowing for sure that my prayer was answered, I began to walk back to the boardwalk.  The connectedness I felt to the ocean, its rhythm and the creator of it all was not for me to try and understand in that moment. (Or perhaps ever!)

 

Instead, I bowed my head for a second in gratitude, delighted that there are undoubtedly magical moments and miracles on the most ordinary of days. Indeed when we’re silent and centered, plugging into the rhythm of the divine flow is not only necessary, it is completely instinctive. A rhythm most divine.

 

 

Ask me, I know.

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

 

Aluta continua, as they say.  Allow me to wish you a million opportunities on the most ordinary of days to plug into the magic and surrender to the rhythm that sustains us all.

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….

 

A Note for my readers….

When people tell me that I “inspire” them, I cringe a little bit.

I get that my writing touches their hearts. That’s the idea. That’s what makes me want to share more of my heart. It’s therapy for me too.

The cringing I am talking about is when people look to me to put a positive spin on life’s crap.

I have to remind them that I am just a storyteller, not a magician! A storyteller with a less-than-perfect life and a much-less-than-perfect archive of experience.

Just like the rest of the world, I can only see the “positive” side of things AFTER I have gone through the crap. (And believe me, I have gone through some pretty rough crap).

Just like the rest of the world, I can only joke about betrayal, heart ache, love, lust, sensitivity, loneliness, inadequacy, conflict, embarrassment, humiliation, bad judgement, ego trips and vomit, AFTER I have emerged from the tunnel, scars and all.

And, if that’s what “inspires” my readers, then do be my guest. Sit down and listen a bit while I tell you some more stories….

I Fall Short Of My Own Expectations Daily

I fall short of my own expectations daily

They say that to whom much is given, much is expected.

I have certainly been given much.  Straight from the creator of MUCH.

But, what others expect from me is nothing compared to what I expect from myself.

And naturally, I fall short of my own expectations daily!

Now, I know that people will tell you that you need to “give yourself a break” and that you need to “be kind to yourself”. I get that.  I practice that.

My problem is slightly more complicated than that.

I am receiving blessings every hour of every day. Doors open hourly.  Hearts come to my heart as and when I need them.  Just like that! I am one of THOSE people. Magic happens in my space.  Every single day.

So, I sit with this pot full of good.  And, it overflows.

And, I want to share it. Share myself.  Not in a My 12 Steps to Happiness way. God no!  Imagine THAT disaster.

In sharing myself, I always wonder if I am doing authentically.  I always ask myself if my :

Head

Heart

Soul

Body

Are speaking the same language. All at once. All in sync.

Because, until they ALL do.  I fail myself.

And that, I do daily.

So, on YOUR journey, I wish you a head that likes you, a heart that melts when it feels another heart’s cry, a soul that will remember you from wayyyyy before (and like you) and a body that is a reflection of the perfect alignment.

Aluta Continua Friends!  The road is long (for me).