Climbing Mountains: A Book of Inspirational Stories

By Elsabe Smit

This book contains 50 inspirational stories about people who needed to climb their own personal mountains, and who reached the top where the view was breathtaking.
The themes are a diverse as
•Creating inspired music
•Dealing with infertility and adoption
•Overcoming physical dis-ease
•Recognizing past lives
•Making career decisions resulting from traumatic experiences
The themes are universal and not associated to any particular group or culture.
Is your story also in the book? How did you reach the top of your mountain? What wisdom did you gain from your journey?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elsabe Smit
• Release date: Mar 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463415245

Elsabe Smit

Elsabe Smit is a well-known international coach, facilitator, author, and public speaker that uses her clairvoyant and intuitive skills in her daily life to assist all of those that she comes into contact with, in her professional life.She has an MBA (Master Business Administration), a MA in Industrial Psychology, and extensive experience as a Business Analyst. Using all her knowledge, skills and competencies, Elsabe helps people to understand the mysteries of life and Love, so that they can regain control of their lives.Elsabe Smit was born and raised in South Africa and has lived in Ireland, South Africa and the UK since 2000.After years of facing numerous personal challenges, involving her relationship with her drug- and alcohol-addicted mother, living with and getting divorced from an abusive husband, being a single mother, being a mistress for a period of time, and then facing unemployment, she one day realized that she had been given the amazing gift of intuition and clairvoyance.Using her newly discovered gifts, she then rediscovered herself. She learned that all her past experiences, "good" and "bad", were only steppingstones on her life's blueprint towards loving and accepting herself.Having always having had a keen interest in human behavior, this discovery took her on a different path, adding the study of life, death and spirituality to her interests. During that journey she explored NLP and embraced Quantum Physics. Elsabe studied some of the world's best acknowledged researchers and gurus in the fields of relationships, health and business.During her professional life Elsabe's career included lecturing at a South African University, being a Human Resources Manager various companies and being a freelance business analyst.In between the various permanent positions and contracts, she developed her reputation as a sought-after author, speaker, facilitator, coach and mentor.As an author, some of her books are today still in use as prescribed textbooks for university and college students in South Africa. Other books have been published and are available on your favorite e-book site, and some books have been published as e-books which she shares as free gifts.As a speaker, facilitator and trainer she has presented numerous programmes to groups ranging from a dozen to hundreds of people. The subject matter has been as varied and interesting as her life.As a mentor, she coached and mentored small business owners, blue-chip executives and employees covering a myriad of professions, employment levels and industries.Don't forget her contribution to the world of psychics. She's been on various radio and TV shows with international audiences. In addition, Elsabe has done thousands of personal psychic readings for people from all walks of life located in various countries - including one for a death row inmate in a US prison.Throughout her life Elsabe has been passionately focused on identifying the nuances that make a difference in people lives, the why's of birth, life and death - and now it's your turn to tap into the vast wealth of knowledge and experiences that she has gained during her lifetime, so that like Elsabe ...YOU can also Discover yourself and Love YOUR Life.

Book preview

Climbing Mountains: A Book of Inspirational Stories

Published by Elsabe Smit

Smashwords edition

Copyright 2019 Elsabe Smit

Visit my website at http://www.ElsabeSmit.com

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. I am not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

Cover: Terri Radcliffe at www.brandrepublica.com

RED

SEE MY BADGE?

FLOWERS

THE VISITORS

THE YOUNG

THE BASTARD

MOVING ON

HISTORY

FIRE AND ICE

HEALING MUSIC

GROWING UP

HAPPY COUPLES

THE TAPESTRY

IT ALL ADDS UP

INTO THE ELEMENTS

THE DANCER

ASHES

ALL WE NEED IS LOVE

SUNRISE

A MIRACLE

DON’T GET INVOLVED

THE CURE

THE HEALER

THE LOVERS

THE GOOD LIFE

THE BABY

THE OPERATION

BEHIND THE NET CURTAINS

A CHILD A DAY

NO TOMORROW

THE ETERNAL CHILD

ANOTHER LIFE

LETTING GO

ANNIVERSARY

SING A SONG OF PRAISE

THE RACE

SOLDIER ON

HEAVENLY MUSIC

NOW YOU SEE

EMPTY NEST

DO AS YOU ARE TOLD

THE ACCIDENT

CHANGES

A TIME TO LOVE

THE DEAD GIRL

WHITE WATER RAFTING

THE PROFILE

THE HELPERS

FREE SPIRITS

GENIUS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MORE FROM THIS AUTHOR

Throughout the book, there are opportunities to pause and reflect. Make notes, answer the question or complete the exercise.

RED

They were trying to have a civilized conversation. Both kept their voices down and controlled their emotions, but you could feel the tension by just looking at them. His eyes were hurt. His mouth smiled, but his eyes remained cold.

He didn't look at her but pretended to be interested in the area they were travelling through. He pointed landmarks out to her and told her the history of some of them. There was an undertone of icy boredom to his voice. He didn't want to show it, but he was really hurt.

She listened to his voice and felt confused. She knew there was something wrong but didn't dare ask. Somehow, she felt she was responsible for the change in him, but she didn't understand how. There had always been a closeness between them, but suddenly it was gone. There was nothing now; two strangers sharing a journey and calling it a honeymoon.

Why did he not see it before? On so many occasions he felt revulsion when in her presence, for no reason at all, and at the same time he felt love for her.

He wanted to share with her. How can you feel such strong love and such strong revulsion at the same time? At those moments, the love was always stronger, and he ignored the revulsion. After all, she was his soul mate. She often knew what he was thinking even before the thought was formed.

She was a gentle being, a little flower, and pretty, not beautiful. Like a good woman who does not care too much about appearance, because she knows it doesn't last. Such a gentle being.

Then why did he feel so hurt? There was no doubt in his mind any longer. She had hurt him. Hurt him so much. He couldn't bear to look at her, because he couldn't explain it to her.

The vision from the night before flashed through his mind again - her in a white dress with a red flower in her hair. She was happy, dancing, laughing. But not with him. She had forgotten about him. She was looking at the other one. And she looked so happy.

Then she saw him. Shock played on her face, but it was more than that. It was fear. Fear mixed with defiance. She looked at him. She laughed at him.

He pulled the trigger. A red flower appeared on her white dress. It grew. She stopped laughing. She looked down, saw the blood, and looked at him. And the fear was gone. All he saw was pity. Then the light in her eyes was gone. She was gone.

When he saw this last night, it was so real. He could see the blood pumping on that white dress, could feel her getting cold. He was horrified, angry at himself. He berated himself for allowing such a daydream. Such violent thoughts about the woman he loved. He loved her like his own soul.

It was more than a daydream, though. He was reliving it. He could feel his hand pulling the trigger, the smell of fresh blood.

Then he knew that they had been together before. She had rejected him for someone else. Suddenly he understood his own feelings. He understood how he could feel love and revulsion for the same person.

It scared him, confused him. Part of him said it was just a vision. It wasn't real. What was real was her sitting here next to him in the car, his bride, together with him on their honeymoon.

But how do you wipe out a memory? He couldn't tell her what he had experienced. How do you tell your bride that you'd had a vision of killing her? He couldn't bear the thought. Was it a vision of things to come? It was so real. Why didn't he listen to these warnings before getting married? What if she's already involved with someone else? What a start to a honeymoon!

Over the next couple of days, he tried to act normal. Nothing in the world is more difficult than to act normal when you do not feel normal. The confusion stayed and grew.

She was so gentle, so playful, so concerned. She had never seen him in such a mood before. He looked at her when he thought she wasn't aware. It confused her, but somehow, she felt it wasn't right to question him. So, she just loved him.

A week later they were walking through a marketplace. When they stopped to browse, she saw some embroidered blouses and wanted to buy one. The choice wasn't easy, and she couldn't make up her mind.

He wandered away.

The shock was like a fist in his stomach. She was lying among the market stalls, on the ground, in a pool of blood. He was bending over her. All the anger had gone. All he felt was the utmost remorse.

He had killed her in cold blood. He had killed her, all because she had laughed with someone else. He looked up and saw a funeral procession, the sedate mourners walking slowly behind a coffin.

Behind the mourners followed a rowdy crowd. They were taunting a man whose hands were bound. They were shouting ‘murderer’ and shoving the man. He recognized himself dressed in long robes, looking like a wild animal. Suddenly he knew in his heart that she was innocent. He had taken an innocent life - because he didn't understand.

The market stalls came into focus again. He looked around himself like a cornered animal and felt disoriented before remembering where he was. Remembered why he was there. With his bride, on their honeymoon.

He realized that what he had seen were not visions. They were flashbacks. He had seen glimpses of a previous life.

Suddenly fear lifted from him. She loved him. She always had, always will. She wasn't at fault. She wouldn't even look at any other man. She truly was his soul mate.

But what about him? He suspected her and murdered her based on mere suspicion. Where did that leave him?

He looked around and heard the noises of bells and people at the marketplace. He smelled cinnamon and almond. Real smells. He turned around and saw her waving at him. She was holding a beautiful red blouse against her chest, and the expression on her face asked his opinion. She looked so beautiful, so gentle, and so vibrant.

He mouthed I love you and smiled at her. She smiled back. She turned to the merchant while taking money out of her purse. He knew that despite what he had seen, despite what had happened, he had moved on. She had forgiven him.

At that moment, he forgave himself. He understood that his anger didn't last, but his love for her did. It was real. Like the cinnamon. Like the bells. Like the red blouse. They were real. The thought filled him with such happiness.

He walked back to her and kissed her lightly on the temple. She looked up at him and saw in his eyes that everything would be all right - for a very long time.

SEE MY BADGE?

Do you really love him? she asked.

Yes, Mom, I do.

How do you know that? How can you be so sure?

I just know. He makes me feel . . . you know?

No, I don’t. That's why I am asking. You cry about him so often.

She shrugged her shoulders. OK, I admit, at times I feel exasperated and I want to shake him, because I can't always predict his behaviour, but that's part of what I love about him. He's unpredictable.

Anna frowned and looked away. She remembered her own first love, many years ago. She could still feel the glow, but she also remembered that it was always followed by a dull thud in her stomach. It just wasn't right. And now the pattern is repeating with her lovely daughter. It just wasn't right, and she felt so powerless.

My darling, think carefully about this, then do what is right for you. I want to see you happy.

Thanks, Mom, the girl responded and gave her mother a hug. She was still a girl, a very naïve twenty-two years young.

Anna’s eyes shot full of tears, but she turned her head away and occupied herself with some flowers.

I’m off. See you later, the girl called, and the front door slammed.

While Anna was arranging the flowers, her mind wandered again to a time long ago when she was also naïve.

First there were just looks, and both pretended not to see the other. Then they started exchanging notes. Anna remembered how difficult it was to write those notes, and she smiled. How she agonized over the words! What to write, what not to write, and rewriting it again and again.

Then, those first tentative, tender touches. How did it grow from such innocence into such unbearable agony? Many scenes flashed before her eyes. She had sat up late, waiting. If she had gone to sleep, there would be a scene because she wasn't waiting and not caring. If she waited, there would be a scene because she was waiting and not trusting. Until one night when she waited. And waited. She waited until the day broke, and she was still awake when there was a knock on the door.

She welcomed the knock. At least the knock meant strangers. No scene. No recriminations. No violence. Just news.

Not good news. How could it be good news to hear you will now be alone?

Not bad news. How could it be bad news to know the violence had stopped?

Just news. Dull news.

People moving in and out of her vision. People saying words they didn't mean, because they didn't know what they meant, and therefore couldn't say it. People bringing food. People patting her little girl’s head. People who told her how she felt. Then they moved on and she was left alone.

Left to pay the bills. To answer questions. To roll around at night and ask why, why, why. To see others through new eyes.

People started to look different. There were the innocents. Those who had the glow of youth and happiness.

There were the wounded. Like her. Comparing scabs. Exchanging stories. Wearing their experiences like badges. For a while she had her own badge. Widow. Or rather, widow with no regrets.

Slowly, over time, she got tired of defining herself like this. That was when she started to see the light people. People who no longer wore