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!

 

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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

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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.

 

 

 

How a piece of gum taught me 5 Important Life Lessons

I had a feeling the waiter saw me stick my spearmint gum under the table. Our eyes locked for two long seconds. The unholy mental rendezvous made me blush a little but that moment was quickly interrupted by a woman screaming “I will kill youuuuuuu!”

 

Damn, some people can over react, I thought! Whatever happened to threatening a punishment befitting the crime? 

 

Fortunately, I was not the one she wanted to kill. Nor was the waiter, thank goodness.

 

The object of her fury was a man in a car. Crazy was lying on top of the bonnet with her granny knickers on display for the whole parking lot to see.  She was using one windscreen wiper to hold on to. Her free hand was swiping the other wiper viciously through half an open window into the frightened man’s face. I had no doubt that she wanted to kill him and his eyes told me that he knew that too. (Eye contact! Why on why did I go there?)

 

Security arrived quite quickly and it was then that I saw two little blonde heads rise and quickly dip back onto the backseat. There were kids in that car and our eyes had locked for just two long seconds, contracting me into the story even more. 

 

From sheer nervousness, I reached under my table and began to play with “my” gum. It started to make my fingers smell sweet. Grape! Grape! That smell was grape. Who even buyssssss grape gum?

 

And that was the first and only time I wanted to kill someone too. I want to kill myself. Eeeew!

 

Now please let’s not get clever and ask “what’s the moral of the story?”…because we all know it is bloody clear as daylight: 

 

  1. Don’t do stupid shit
  2. If you do do stupid shit, do not make eye contact
  3. If you do make eye contact, you enter a contract
  4. Contracts are usually one sided and generally once you’re in, you’re in
  5. Your mom was right about wearing good underwear (just in case)

 

 

And oh yes, there are crazy people everywhere. Some want to kill. Others buy grape gum. Be warned.

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016. 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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What makes YOU smile? (You are Enough)

I received an email last week telling me that my poem “YOU are enough” had been pinned to a wall. A real wall in a real office that did not belong to me (or any member of my family).

Do you know what that means to someone like me?  

Firstly, it sows panic. It feels like standing naked at a traffic light. Because, let’s face it, once we have created something for public consumption, there is always the risk that other people think it is crap. The vulnerability is the price we pay for writing heart based words.

But, once the stupidity wanes and the light starts flowing from the ego, through the heart and permeating the creative soul, the gratitude quotient increases almost proportionately to the panic one decreasing.

THAT “ahhhhh” moment is what I experienced today. And, let me tell you, it is a fantastic feeling. It’s a magical place of understanding that my words are doing what they were birthed to do:  change hearts.

THIS is why I write. THIS is what gives me the most pleasure in the entire world.

Allow me to wish that you too find your “thing”. Your spark. Your calling. Your passion.

It’s a beautiful road to walk….

 

(Oh yes, here is the poem):

“YOU are Enough

…The time surely comes

When you put yourself first

When you regain your God essence

When you count your blessings

When you honour your sadness

When you give yourself permission to try

When you name your pain

When you stop calling your passion a “hobby”

When you keep your word

When you kick someone out of your emotional bed

When you alienate nasty creatures

When you write thank you notes

When you take more risks

When you stop trusting losers

When you approach people you need

When you say no to darkness

When you yield appropriately

When you say beautiful words of gratitude instinctively

When you sleep for days

When you trust your internal red flags

When you disappoint another heart

When you run your race and let others run theirs

When you clear everything on your vision board and start again

When you no longer mind being called emotional

When you equate self-respect with breathing

When you allow yourself to dream again

When you listen to a child

When you let yourself be touched

When you honour your calling

When you travel to places that call you

When you risk humiliation

When you press “reset” on your life

When you accept the shape of the parts you disguise

When you simply say “not today”

When you acknowledge those that guide you

When you start imitating yourself

When you draw a line in the sand

When you empower other people

When you forgive yourself

When you delight in the success of others

When you laugh loud

When you kiss your broken heart

When you are your own role model

When you emulate the speckles of light you see

When you tone down the noise

When you soothe your heart with music

When you dine alone

When you share your struggles

When you own your fears

When you unlearn your defences

…and on that day, may you know that YOU are enough YOU have always been enough YOU will always be enough End of story!

Aluta Continua, I say!  The road is 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

 

 

“Charm” is sooooo last season

Someone told me recently that I had changed.

He said that I was no longer the “charming girl” I used to be.

I let that bullshit sink in.

I let it get to me. I did!

Quite deflated, I went home thinking “charm? I thought I had lots of charm?!”

That evening, I got into bed feeling off centre.  I looked at the wrinkles around my eyes, my sagging chest, the greys around my temple.

But, sure as the morning sun, I woke up feeling none of the crap from the day before.  You see, for me, mornings bring magic.  I am focussed and centered at 5am and I take no bullshit.

I walked up to the same mirror that showed me the not-so-charming girl the night before and thought to myself, that person was damn right.  I am damn right no longer a “charming girl”.   I am now a phenomenal, strong, centered, opinionated, WOMAN.  A woman with a vision. A woman with a purpose. A woman with children. A woman with God at the centre. And gosh, if that ain’t “charming”, then who the hell cares?

The girl who had no grey hair, no lines around her eyes was awesome and “charming” for sure, but God sure knows that she was not on fire.  The woman in the mirror was on fire!

So, I did my meditation in gratitude, as I always do, and wrote “Today, I am grateful for my continued growth, evolution and powerful centre as a WOMAN on fire”.

Besides, charm is in the eye of the beholder and if the fire is too hot, then a step to the left may not be the worst idea.

© 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.

The “Outcast”

I met a woman who told me that she was an “outcast” amongst the women.

She was certain that she knew the reasons.

She said: Well, I’m divorced

I nodded.

She continued: I smoke

I nodded again.

And, I don’t have time for shit. I don’t pretend!

I was intrigued. 

I thought about it as I was standing in the rain outside my daughter’s school one afternoon. I looked around at the many divorced people exchanging smiles, some of them smoking in the shade while chatting to other non-smokers who seemed to like them anyway.

As the kids ran to their respective parents, I wondered about the divorced, smoking loner and what made her combination of the three deadly sins of likability so formidable?

I was intrigued. 

When we met again, all the women were standing in the kitchen, happily talking away. There was lots of talk about school, creative projects, work, ex-husbands, marijuana, travel, bikini waxing and Nespresso. A good mix of chit chat to cater for everyone’s taste. I enjoyed that everyone was so positive, and that talking about potholes, politics and crime were low on the agenda.

I looked through a small, frilly kitchen curtain to see if the kids were okay. The back of sexy woman caught my eye. It was the divorced smoker. Our very own loner.

I jumped on the kitchen counter, next to the scary family cat (cringe) to take a closer look. She was wearing heavy makeup, a mini skirt and sky high heels, her belly button was pierced, she had a bottle of beer in her hand and she had all the guys around the barbecue laughing hysterically.

I was intrigued. 

I looked at the moms in the kitchen. In contrast, all of them had on flats, no makeup and loose clothes.

I was intrigued.

I fell sort of in the middle. I was wearing my standard bright red lip (so 50% makeup) a flowy maxi skirt & a bustier (so 50% tarty) with wedges (so 50% high heels).

I was a bridge. 

I approached the barbecue with caution : Hey, we could use another pair of hands in the kitchen. She replied: Nah! I am not in the mood for the nagging bitches club today. All you guys do is moan moan moan moan. All the men laughed out loud, one of them giving her a high five. Yes, someone’s husband gave that high five.

I reflected as I walked away.

I realised that she right about one thing: she was indeed an outcast.  What she was not right about were the “reasons” she was one.

She was not a victim of her circumstances. She was the creator.

A happy one.

So, I stopped being intrigued.

I decided I would leave her to finish her own story and I canned the bridge ambition pronto.

© 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.

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….

Lee FB Banner2

Dear Hate Mail : Thank You

The first time I received hate mail, I cried.

I literally cried.

The thing is that I did not see it coming. It sort of blindsided me and caught me off guard. That’s what my tears were about, not the words on the anonymous email.

The basis of the mail was the age-old question: “Who do you think you are?”

That little piece of tear-inducing hate speech got me thinking. Who do I think I am? Really? You really want to know?

Well…

I am a strong woman.

A woman with a unique story.

A woman with a gift for storytelling.

A woman with an amazing tribe of woman in her corner.

A woman filled with passion for her craft.

A woman who is vulnerable and strong, struggling and celebrating.

You know? A normal woman on the path to seeking ways to shine her light BRIGHT!

The rest of the hate mail was bull. So, I will not bore you with the detail.

But, I will tell you this. Those tears brought relief but they also brought something else. They reminded me that my words are making an impact! I am not just writing a Dear Diary for my friends. My words are touching hearts and today I am grateful.

Aluta continua, as they say. The road is still long

© 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.

Boobs, Business & Morons

My client was angry!

They were angry because they felt that service was not up to standard.

Their company CEO was due to visit the event.  He was bringing the Deputy President and some other important people.

Shit was happening.

So, I did the right thing.  I swopped my high heels for flats and literally RAN around with the team trying to fix a couple of things.

Hours went by.  I was still running.

I did not eat breakfast.  That was fine.

I did not make it to wee when I needed to.  That was fine too.

Lunch came and went.

But gosh, by 3pm, my body said STOP.

I had a little baby at home and when I couldn’t nurse, I needed to remember to express. Express? Oh crap!  That small matter of sitting still for 15 minutes to get milk out of my breasts.  Yes, that!

I felt like I was about to burst.  I had to sit down.

So, I ran to my car, got all the shit I needed and went to find a secluded spot.  A nice, dark corner on a stage, behind a curtain where no one would find me.

I unbuttoned my shirt.  God, I had no time!   I just removed the whole damn thing and sat there topless.  Breaaaaaaathing and getting ready.

As the pump started, I felt so happy!  The relief and release of hormones was magical.

But then I heard voices.

They kept saying “What’s that sound?”

The pump kept going.  Djooom Djoooom  Djooom. 

I peeked out behind the curtain.  God! It was the CEO of the angry client!  He was waiting with his entourage for the important delegation.  I literally could not escape.  There was no way.

That’s when I heard an angel’s voice. 

Some daft person said “Oh! That’s just the aircon.  They’re getting a technician to fix it”.

Hallllleuia!  Saved by a moron!

I continued to pump, continued to giggle and continued to enjoy the surge of endorphins only a nursing mother knows about.  Nature’s drugs filled my veins and I have lived to tell the tale.

And in celebration of Women’s Day in a month, allow me to remind you Goddesses that we are life!  We are the incubators of God’s breath.  We are miracles.   We are powerful beyond our knowledge.

We have boobs and we know how to use them.

Let’s celebrate that together, we are magic.

© 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.

Man in Torment

He watched his wife lift her skirt to many men.

He lived through the humiliation.

He ate her bitter words routinely.

He faced her rejections nightly and he sniffed the smells of other men knowingly.

He perfected the art of saying NOTHING.  He was so good at it that when his kids did hear his voice, they ran.

On his mother’s death bed, she said “My son, please do me a favour. Leave that woman. You can’t go on like this without killing yourself or someone else”.

He was shocked. Surely the medication was messing with the old woman’s head.

He could go on! And he did.

© 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.