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

Feathers appear when ANGELS are near (A story about a lady cleaning my room)

I was sitting and writing in my hotel room, watching the bluest sea go up and down like digital musical notes while a lady who looked just like my late mother went about her business of cleaning my room.

 

I kept changing my position slightly in order to stare at her, wondering each time if she noticed. I was feeling naughty, bad, sad and weird all at the same time. It’s hard to explain.

 

I finally let up the espionage to take a walk along the beach.  She called back at me “Lady, you dropped something”.  It was a feather which I quickly picked up in a big red blush!

 

It was then that I felt this immense sense of Gratitude.

Gratitude for her presence,

Gratitude for the lesson,

Gratitude for way the dice landed placing me in a position to live the life I do,

Gratitude also for the luxury of being able to travel, write and tell YOU about the things that touch my heart.

 

I dreamed of days like this, I must tell you.

Days of random magic,

heart swells,

ocean air,

pink sunsets,

…and days when the old saying “feathers appear when angels are near” rings beautifully true.

 

I wish YOU days of “magic” too.

 

© 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 pics used, 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 Front Row II (A short reflection on CHANGE)

With another birthday approaching, I am naturally reflecting on all things CHANGE (and no, I am not only talking about the spread in the middle)

 

It always fascinates me how deciding who gets a front row seat in the movie that is our lives isn’t exactly as simple as ordering a large popcorn and Slush Puppie.

Friends change, lovers drift, egos inflate, eyes open, lust rattles, death knocks, jobs morph, travel calls, masks drop, strategies shift, needs flip, kids drift, hearts evolve. You know, life happens?

While we are certain that CHANGE is the law of the universe (with seasons changing, leaves falling, blossoms springing effortlessly before our very eyes) I have often wondered why we find it so difficult to just “flow” with these changes especially as they affect key relationships.

 

Then it hit me : We are uneasy with movement, with change itself.

 

The old moulds are more warm and familar than a onesie, clouded in words like “loyalty” and “history”. Deciding to actively drop leaves, sprout flowers and reassign those name tags on the prime VIP spots in our life, ruffling feathers and inviting scrutiny challenges our comfy paradigms. Crap ain’t easy.

But it must be done.

So, as I mascara another grey hair this morning and try not to overthink my Kombucha ambitions, do allow me to send you my best good vibes as you contemplate your own selections.  

• If you have to increase or decrease the number of seats, make that call.
• If you are blessed that no rearrangement is necessary, scream “thank you!”; such blessing is never to be taken lightly.

…BUT yes, that seating chart needs to be issued. (Or else some random weeds will fill those vacant spots and then your garden will really be sad).

Go on…Today is a good day to think about that front row again.  Aluta continua, as they say.

#gratitude #reflections #alutacontinua

© 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.

 

The Power of “Thank You”

I have always marveled at the way mothers perform their miracles. 

To me, these superpowers seem to really come alive at Christmas, Eid, Diwali, Birthdays, Weddings and Barmitzvahs. You know, those milestone moments that go on to the mantelpiece for a lifetime. 

It fascinates me the way these moms press-on despite limited budgets and family dramas, despite the exhaustion and lack of appreciation to create something out of nothing for their loved ones. 

It also fascinates me how “thank you” seems to be the spark that ignites their hearts and gives them enough energy for another 600 rounds of madness. Those two little words seem to be the magical formula. 

I had sat down to write a story about Gratitude for these mothers (and my own miracle worker mom) when another story fell right into my heart. 

He was drunk. No, he was pissed. He said that he was drinking because he was sad but I thought that he was sad because he had been drinking.

The man told me about the loss of his kids to drugs, the loss of his cash to gambling and the fact that the red wine in his hand was his only real friend. 

His wife was home preparing Christmas Eve dinner for 20 people. He told me that she always went “overboard” and that it was a complete “waste of time and money.”

I would have loved to listen to the rest of his story, but I had to dash. My husband sent me a text message telling me that the coast was clear to go and set up the “milk and cookies” scene at home.  

As I left, the grumpy man proudly showed me some pictures of his family. I noticed that they were all special occasion pictures of birthdays, Christmases and graduations gone by.

I prayed that one day he would remember how to say “Thank You!”

© 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 t

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.

Two Brothers, Two Stories, One Family

One brother said to the other, “Don’t you wish you were born into a different family?”.

The other brother replied “I was”.

The end.

© 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.