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.

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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To Listen or NOT to listen

It was nearly Christmas.

Everyone was talking about their holiday plans. Most were going skiing in Europe and then back to South Africa for a beach holiday over New Year.

I could not even thinkkkkkk of taking leave. Firstly, I had only joined the company a month or two earlier and secondly, the most junior person on the team always stayed put. I accepted my fate maturely.

About 3 days before Christmas, and on the last real shopping day, I got the call I had been waiting for. I was free to pack up early and go home. I was elated.

I planned to light a candle for my deceased granny (old tradition), pick up my Christmas pudding from my mom, book my Secret Santa Girls Lunch and finally get all the little gifts for my family. I was excited.

As I was driving out of my office, I got a call. It was from a colleague. She needed my “help”. 

I listened. 

She had a deadline to meet and was not going to make it.

I listened some more.

She explained that she had loads of “important” things to do.

I continued to listen.

She had gifts to buy, cocktails with friends, carols by candlelight and oh yes, a spa day. She simply had “no time” to do her work and she wanted me to do it. It was a 5-day job that required working over Christmas in order to meet a submission deadline.

She sensed my energy dip, so she added something extra. She explained that she had already talked to the CEO of the company and “cleared things” with him.

She ended her pitch by adding that she thought that I “wouldn’t mind” because I had “nothing exciting to do anyway”.

I stopped listening. My ears just stopped playing ball. 

For a moment, the CEO ploy flashed across my mental dashboard as I envisioned beautiful gold stars next to my name and a promotion. Fortunately, that shit didn’t last long. I came to my senses. Quickly too.

I said “I can’t help, I’m afraid” and when she said “And why not?” I said “Ear trouble”. 

I did!  I could have high-fived myself right there, I must say!

I hung up and went to light that damn candle. 

© 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.

Shit Happens

It was a beautiful morning.  My husband’s birthday always is.

He doesn’t like me to make a big deal of it.  I always do.

Shit happens.

He shares his birthday with an old friend who is an orchestra conductor with a love for the cello.   This lovely friend has a lovely wife who loves birthdays too.

So, each year we try and get them together for a bite somewhere during the day.

They tell the same stories over and over again.  The famous one is about a thief who stole the cello but abandoned it halfway because it was too heavy.  They have also told the stories of their travels into East Africa many times.  Another favourite is about a guy who followed them for days, turning up just when they thought they had shaken him.

We always laugh lots.

This magical day, we were planning to have lunch together, as usual.

I spent the morning at my office.  I got in early, had a couple of meetings and when I looked at the time, I nearly died!  I literally had 7 minutes to get my ass from the office to collect my husband, and to the lunch before anyone called him and spoiled the surprise.

I ran down two flights of stairs, jumped into my car and put it into gear. That’s when shit happened.

I looked down to the floor to reach into my handbag and then heard a loud bang!

I drove straight into a parked car!

No big deal, right?  Wrong.  It was a very big deal. 

The car was one of a kind.  An antique.  A collectors item. A family heirloom.  There were no spare parts for it. The car belonged to one of my colleagues.  It was a special gift from his dad who had passed on.  Everyone knew the car. Connoisseurs travelled from exotic corners of the world to marvel at its beauty.   It had never ever had a single scratch on it.  And, in a matter of seconds, I managed to take off the whole front bumper and kill two lights.

Before I could decide what to do next, there was a swarm of security surrounding my car!  They all looked very worried as they waited for their boss to arrive and take charge.  He called a couple of people and they debated who would tell the owner the terrible news.

The head of security suggested that I not move.  He said “Just wait here.  We will call someone to come and check”.  I could NOT just wait. 

So, I ran up two flights of stairs.  They assumed I was running away.

I ran straight into the car owner’s PA, with her beautiful curly hair. In a split second and with just a nod, she gave me the green light.  I walked straight into his office.  I saw six people listening at the door.  I could have sugar coated it, but I was not fast enough with the creative stuff.  I said “I was in a hurry. My concentration was somewhere else! I lost focus for 1 second and bloody bashed your one-of-a-kind car”. 

The owner of the car was calm.  I think he was dying inside because when he heard the news, all he managed to say was two words. He said “Shit happens” and shrugged his shoulders.

He was right!  Shit does indeed happen.I was late. I spilled my makeup all over my black dress and the surprise was ruined. I felt dreadful.

I chose not to share the story with the birthday boys over lunch.  Instead, I drank lots of bubbly and laughed at the stories of the stolen cello and the weird Kenyan stalker.

My insurance company had a shock when I submitted the claim.  I think it must have nearly bankrupted them.  But hey, shit happens right?

Perhaps I will share the story over lunch this year and perhaps it will displace the other two stories from their thrones.  If not, hey…bigger shit has been known to happen.  

© 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.