How do you find YOUR purpose? It really isn’t rocket science

Writing comes easy to me. I started writing when I was 9.  

I wrote a poem about a Tiger.  I got 0/10. Yes, zero!  I had never gotten zero before.

The teacher cited “copying”.  She decided that my poem was so damn good, that I could only have copied it.

That moment changed my life. Because instead of causing me to shrink in shame and embarassment, it lit a fire inside of me. “There’s something there huh?” I thought, “a kind of Magic?”

So began my journey of doing what I love to do.

I knew there was passion.

I simply followed that passion.

And just like in the movies, my passion led me to my purpose: to write to inspire! 

YOU can do that too. No jokes.  Simply go with what you love to do. The rest will sure as hell follow.

No need to thank ME. It’s the law of the universe.

 

Grateful Always,

Lee Mayimele

 

 

How I nearly MURDERED a Random Act of Kindness

A locksmith came to my house on this icy Monday morning.

Diagnosed a small problem

Fixed it

anddddd, wait for it, absolutely refused to accept payment for the call out.

“Consider it your lucky day” he said.

 

And you know what? Instead of letting Lady Luck give me feels, I immediately went into a mild panic.

How can I accept that?

His time?

His fuel?

Poor guy!

Look at his broken car! 

Whooooo does that?

Perhaps I can promote his business?

Maybe I’ll do a Facebook post?

I must pay it forward!

How much should I randomly donate?

Ah, maybe I’ll invent another few jobs for him? You know? Pay him double?

 

I know, right!? Gosh! Someone did something nice for me and I simply could not accept that RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS. I had to spoil the gesture with my own crap.

 

Yes, I am going THERE.  Because it’s the truth.

 

Bottom line is that I give so freely and it gives me so much pleasure. The wavelength of GIVING, really is my best. But, it would seem that I have a real problem with ACCEPTING things. Gifts, compliments, random acts of other people’s kindness. This, despite my knowledge of the fact that the vibrations of GIVING and RECEIVING are each other’s oxygen. They need each other in order to exist.

 

I know the theory. But, my actions tell that I haven’t quite learnt to walk the talk, so to speak.  

 

So, here I sit this Monday morning and,

It’s still icy

I’ve diagnosed the small problem

Now I need to do some more work in order to try and “fix” it 

And I absolutely DO consider it my lucky day!  

 

Because I’ve cracked yet another code about myself.  Isn’t that’s really why we are even here? To try and understand why we do the things we do?  This journey of Self-Mastery is hard work hey?

 

So, I guess all that’s left to say is Aluta Continua.  That, and, how very grateful I am today and every day for the little gifts along the way.   

 

In Gratitude,

Lee

 

 

Copyright Lee Mayimele – All Rights Reserved

What makes YOU smile?

I throw salt in my orange juice

I eat the lemon garnishes in drinks

I purposely wear to my clothes back to front sometimes and have been known to cut the arms off brand new designer wear just because “I like it better that way”

 

I recite the rosary

I read erotica

I write random thank you notes to people

I prefer my red wine chilled

I wear a dress 363 days of the year

I quite dig my greying hair

I photograph churches, mosques, synagogues

I cry at the drop of a hat, both when I’m angry but moreso for kind words, a glimpse of the ocean, grilled prawns peri peri, the national anthem, memories. You know?

 

I love rap and Mozart, the opera and karaoke alike

My books are my fiends

I love to eat. I love to eat with my hands more

I keep my inner circle small

I am usually the first in any group to wake up and also usually the first to go to sleep

I don’t eat bread when I drink alcohol

I like to observe Lent and celebrate Eid too

I collect feathers and lavender, designer vintage handbags and boy, oh boy, do I collect random people

 

But hey, do you know why I’m telling YOU all this crap about myself this Monday morning? It’s very simple really.

It’s not to bore you with a million sentences starting with “I”. Nope!

It’s simply a public service announcement that goes:

I AM UNIQUE. Just like YOU.

The impact I make on this planet is one of a kind.  Just like YOU.

The story I have to tell is a story only I can tell. And guess what? Yip! The same goes for YOU.

 

Now that I have your attention, the CALL TO ACTION is really quite simple.

I encourage you to ask yourself, “What makes ME smile?”

Then chase that crap!

Because honestly, there is no one in this entire world exactly like YOU and we all need the magic that only YOU can bring.

 

Aluta continua, as they say. I wish you the courage to stand out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Kids (A reflection from a greying Mama’s Heart)

Dear Kids

Whilst no parent has all the answers and whilst this mama is constantly, still learning, know this for sure:

1. You are never alone
2. Travel is the best teacher
3. “No” is a good word. Use it often. It’s particularly lovely when there’s a dead silence and you offer no explanations
4. “Please” and “thank you” never goes out of fashion
5. Water heals. Oceans. Tears. 2 litres a day
6. You have a built-built in “people” radar. Please listen to its beep beep beep when something feels offish
7. Sleep is medicine
8. Play, play, play. Never stop playing
9. Less sugar, less screen time, more grass, more laughs
10. God is inside you and no one one has a special hotline that you need to go through
11. Betrayal is painful. Nothing can prepare you for that kick in the groin
12. Go out and explore. You can always come home to cry
13. Try and remember who you were before the world started pinning its labels on you
14. Your body is beautiful. Exactly as is. Explore it. Admire it. Treat it right and it will reward you so much
15. No one knows it all
16. Blood makes you related. Loyalty makes you family
17. Believe in magic. Those who don’t, never find it
18. Your word is your honour. Do what you say you will. Always
19. A grateful heart is a magnet for miracles
20. Give freely. Of what you have. Of your time. And quietly please
21. No one likes a show-off
22. Learn to listen. To God’s voice in the early morning. To yourself. Certainly to people who you trust
23. Shortcuts never work
24. People will forget what you say but they will never forget how you made them FEEL. Be kind
25. Books, music, thunderstorms and tea are good for lonesome days when you need your mama
26. Abundance and prosperity are your birth right
27. Look beyond the labels of race and religion, gender and social standing. How people treat people from whom they need nothing is where you should focus your scoring and grading
28. Jealousy is when you count other people’s blessings instead of your own
29. Love does not need to hurt
30. Speak your truth. Even when your voice shakes
31. What sets your soul on fire? Go there
32. Learning is constant
33. Messing up is okay. Intentionally hurting someone never is
34. You teach people how to treat you
35. You may have one “true love” or many or even none. Remember that you are whole anyway
36. You have a story that only YOU can tell

 

xoxo

Mama

 

© Aluta continua, as they say.  A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

How a toddler schooled me in SURRENDER

I’ve been observing my son and his CTRL-ALT-DELETE siesta system shut-down for a few weeks now.

 

After a 3 block walk home from playschool at noon, he gobbles down a hot lunch and then stumbles straight up to a sunny spot where he crashes for 2 hours.

 

He never looks across at his PlayDoh, nor does he squeeze in a quick trip to the fridge before he allows his body to melt. He never turns on the TV in case he misses a scene of Paw Patrol nor does he apologise in advance for being unavailable for the next few hours.

 

The dude simply surrenders to what his body needs most and in doing so, allows all systems in his temple to reboot. Routinely, of course, but most beautifully all the same.

 

I must tell you, today I am so very thankful for the lesson in self-care.  The tutorial in surrender is something I need very much indeed….

 

And the GRATITUDE that floods my veins is most delicious!

 

© Aluta continua, as they say.  A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

 

 

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The Power of ART to touch the HEART

I was drawn to a lady.

 

I saw her in the window. Not in an Amsterdam Red Light District kind of way. No, it was a statue of a lady to be exact and she was beautiful with the aura of a wise old soul.

 

I wasn’t sure if she was for sale, but I followed my instinct and went inside.  Aha, I thought, I am a genius! My friend’s 40^th birthday was coming up, and although I was more than one month early, I was sorted. I could tick her gift off my list.

 

After she became mine, the lady stayed in my car for a day or two. Then I moved her to the office. She looked happy.

 

When we closed for the Christmas holidays, I moved her back to my car.  She didn’t seem to mind that either.

 

But it was only until I mounted her in the perfect spot in my home (okay, this is still sounding Red Light-ish), that she really seemed to come alive.  What a magnificent piece of art she was, revealing her essence slowly and seductively, ever so subtly like a Picasso may have done.

 

My fascination with the lady grew each day. I noticed she was holding her hands together, palms up, as though she was either offering or accepting something.  I loved that I didn’t know which it was and that I still needed to find out exactly what she was up to.  The mystery intoxicated me.

 

Days went by, and she was still mounted.  I justified her hanging to myself by saying “It needs to stay out of the way of the kids” but God knows, I was planning a coup. Her spell was cast and there was no way I could entertain the thought of parting ways. Not yet.

 

When my friend came around after her holidays, I was so delighted to see her.  She brought spices and spices make my heart sing.

 

While I was opening the wine, my daughter stormed into the kitchen and said “Mama is soooo mad, you know!?”

 

The holidays had been long and I must say, the manners-barometer was shaky.

 

My friend played along, “Yes, darling. Why is your mama so mad?”

 

“Well, you see that” she said pointing to the lady.  My heart pounded hard. “Well, she bought that for yourrrrrrrrrr birthday surprise, but now she says it’s hers and you are getting a…..” 

 

My reaction was swift.

 

I said “Damn kids of today!” and rolled my eyes.

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015.

 

P.S. The lady remains in my care. And the mystery of whether she is giving or receiving or doing both is still driving me mad. (Again, no PG 21 SVNL tones whatsoever are intended by that statement)

 

COPYRIGHT:

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.

 

Why I was late, why my iPad was pregnant and why I hate yoga

I believe in being punctual, well prepared and flexible.

I was on my way to a storytelling event. Although I had prepared well in advance, I arrived five minutes late. Now five minutes is no misdemeanor for sure, but for a time-stickler like me, it’s a self imposed spot-fineable offence.

I was late because my direction-bearings were off and I had taken the tram in the opposite direction to where I was going. Then, my Uber driver was grumpy, so asking him to speed was out of the question.

The first person speaker was a beauty. A dark haired woman with the biggest smile — the kind you see in toothpaste commercials.

I caught her story in the middle : her husband was having an affair. 

I listened attentively as she waved her hands while giving an animated (and very detailed) account of how that affair drove her into the arms of a lesbian lover and then right back to the arms of the new and improved version of the very same husband.

She radiated light, vitality and sunshine. I loved listening to her bare her soul. People were drawn to her light.

I was up next. It was a hard act to follow.

I turned on my iPad just to get to the right spot for my storyguide and it was dead. Just dead.  I had no backup notes and as I fumbled in my handbag to try and find a pen, the American voice called out my name.  It was showtime.

Instead of sharing the beautiful story I had written about how I was forced to confront my bully, I had to make some shit up. Fast.

I said “I believe in being punctual, well prepared and flexible. So, I am here to tell you why I was late today, why my iPad is pregnant and why I hate yoga.”

The laughter helped me to relax and I continued to waffle off a lot of crap.

After the event, the toothpaste commercial girl said “You know, your story and mine are pretty much the same.”  I wanted to reply that I had never had a lesbian affair but said “How so?” instead.

She flashed those sick pearly whites and said “In the end, we only regret the risks we did NOT take.”

And, she was right. The risk of telling that story opened up yet another door for me and today I am grateful.

© 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

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

Wrong Place Right Time

I believe in being well prepared.

So, I arrived early for two reasons. One, I wanted the time to gather my thoughts and jot down some ideas before I lost them. Two, I needed to do my makeup ahead of my presentation.

So, you can imagine how annoyed I was when I arrived at my office 2 hours ahead of the meeting and there was someone waiting outside the door!

I sat in my car and watched him trying the buzzer. I just sat there shaking my head. Two hours early? Who does that? 

I took out my calendar and checked the invite again. I did not have the time wrong. The fool was two hours early.

I waited.

I thought that perhaps HE had gotten the time wrong and if that was the case, surely he would phone me.

So, I waited.

Now I know that a normal person would have walked 100m and talked to the person. But, I have never been a fan of “normal”. The other reason I could not even think of getting out of my car is because I looked (and smelled) homeless.

I was wearing slippers for driving, my hair was wet, I had no makeup on and I had been eating a slice of toast with anchovy paste. If he didn’t die from the shock of seeing someone from Thriller, the smell from my hands would surely have stopped his stupid heart.

So I waited.

He walked away from the door and went to the bathroom. I thought of making a quick dash out of the car but could not take the risk.

So I waited.

One hour later, after my hair had dried, my makeup had set, my slippers were in the boot and my breath was fresh (thanks to some baby-bum wipes and some Listerine which you don’t need to know where I spat), the long waiting game was over.

I walked up to the door and said “Wow, you are early!”

He replied “No, actually I think you are late, but it’s okay. I understand”.

We laughed and I walked ahead of him into the board room.

I said “Please make yourself comfortable”.

He replied “I will try. I am very nervous”.

Nervous? This dude was weirder and weirder. Why would you be nervous about attending a pitch when YOU were not the one doing the presentation?

I gave weirdo his coffee and he said “Will you be the only one interviewing me?”

I thought of replying “No, I think the CEO of the Mental Health Association will be joining me”.

He took out a copy of his CV and gave it to me. Weirdness should come with a forehead tattoo, I thought.

I looked down at the CV. It had a cover note that said “Block D”.

The dude was now 1.5 hours LATE for his dream job and sitting in a board room in Block B.

My heart broke for him.

So, I did what any “normal” person would do.  I asked our secretary to deal with the situation.

© 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.

Car Crash in Tunisia

We were involved in a car crash in Tunisia.  All 15 of us should have died that day.

None of us did.  And ALL of us were shocked.

The bottom line is that even though we survived the burst tyre, the bus continued to spin out control.  It hit a concrete barrier on a highway and put us in the line of another danger.  Oncoming traffic.  It was a horror movie.

We had 4 kids traveling with us.  One of the babies was nursing at her mother’s breast and those screams (and Italian swear words) from the mother still ring in my ear many years on.

Once we managed to get over the danger of the oncoming cars all going 200km/hour, the danger of fire became real.  The bus was smoking and we needed to escape.

That’s when the magic happened.  Our driver, threw off his old grey T-Shirt and changed into his superman cape.  The 60 year old dodged oncoming cars, screaming in Arabic, and ushered each one of us through 3 lanes and safely onto a grass landing.  One by one.  He was calm and gentle.  So in control.  To me, he was a hero!

What a pity, he didn’t FEEL like a hero because once he had evacuated each one of us, he sat down, lit a cigarette and he burst out crying!

Together we watched the smoke engulf the car and destroy his life.  The vehicle was not insured.  It was all he owned.  It was his life.

Once we all regained some level of sanity, we had two concerns, 1. The kids and 2. The groom.  Yes, the groom! We were on our way to his wedding and his bride was concerned with our two hour delay.  He had left his mobile phone in the car and there was no way we could retrieve it.

Today, I am grateful that I have lived to tell the story.  I am grateful for my life.  I am grateful to the 60 year old hero.

As for the wedding, it was amazing!  What a pity they didn’t serve alcohol, because God knows, Tequila mixed with Vodka would have been the real hero of that day.

© 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