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

“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.

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.

Girl in the Green Hat

The girl in the green hat changed my life.

She said “First, you need to think about the life you want. Describe it in detail. Write it down. Then design a business around it”. 

She didn’t realise the impact of those words.

Thank you Girl in the Green Hat.

Now I know.

I do NOT have a “Thick Skin”

I developed a bad habit.

The first time I said it, I knew it was a lie.  So, I let it go.

The next time I said “Don’t worry, I have a very THICK SKIN”, it felt easier to say.  Familiarity is a warm place.

Then, it just became habit.

What the heck does it even mean? Thick skin?  Well, it is supposed to mean that you are :

• Resilient
• Mature
• Not overly sensitive
• Don’t take things personally

Most importantly, it is supposed to mean that you are someone who can handle their feelings maturely in the face of criticism or conflict. 

I guess the last sentence is the reason I allowed this phrase to creep into my vocabulary.  Afterall, I believe that being able to efficiently process feedback is a great trait.

But what happens when someone questions your credibility or trivialises your abilities?  How about when someone gossips about you and you hear about it?  Or excludes you socially?  Or a loved one says something hurtful? Or wait, how about when someone dismisses your opinion in a meeting?  Strong, centered people react, right?  They set the record straight.  They understand that in effect, we teach people how to treat us. 

Well, some strong, centered people also develop bad habits.  Some strong, centered people start telling other people “Don’t worry! I have a very THICK SKIN”.  It is supposed to serve two purposes:

1. Make the rude person feel better about themselves
2. Diffuse further conflict

But what it really does is :

1. Turn the strong, centered person into a victim
2. Give the rude person licence to say/do it again

So, I stopped.  I stopped lying.

I am NOT thick skinned.  I may be resilient and mature BUT I AM sensitive, I DO take things personally and I reckon learning to cancel this ghastly phrase from my dictionary is a pretty mature way to manage my feelings.

Are there any words YOU use to describe yourself that are not true but have become a habit?

Today’s a good day to STOP.

Aluta Continua, my friends.  The road is long (for me)