Memories: 19 September 2025

19 September 2025

8:24 am awake. To the song “I’m on fire” by Bruce Springsteen. What? Okay, I will go with that. Spirit messages from the Void can be weird.

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9:57 pm time to sleep. I had a lovely day today. Lots of “kisses” from Lyn’s dog Mavis then a cuddle and kisses on the cheek for her granddaughter Cadence. It is lovely to feel part of a family that loves and accepts me even with my peculiar ways.

Then I came home to witness a spectacular golden coloured sky. I did my youtube reading of The Silmarillion then saw a severe storm warning with high winds and hail threatened. Nothing…so far so good but I did move the outside cages closer to my house to try to provide shelter for them in the event the storm hits after all. Hopefully it misses us here in Brisbane.

19 September 2024

Second coat of Protectaclear on my brass Naga Kanye (guardian of the Underworld in the Hindu religion) Half-Angel/half-mermaid. She guards my front door but I grew tired of having to constantly polish her so she is receiving a protective coating. I still have the two smaller Naga Kanyes that guard my front bedposts to do. :-)

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19 September 2023

I woke up at 7 am. Another bad night. I was up 6 times to pee. Plus reflux. Exhausting. It’s now 8:58 am. It’s taken me two hours to transfer memories across from my Facebook. Gahhh.

What is this obsession with carefully curating and preserving all my writings and life histories? No one cares and no one reads them. But it’s my one legacy that means something.

The shreds of my ego, my spirit, my defiance, my courage. Words written on the skies only visible to those brave enough to immerse in them, to savour the various flavour and concoctions that was both the sweet and the embittered embattled reality of “The Tanya” who now lies alone in her bed, carefully surfing her own death spiralling.

It’s what I do: survive. No matter what. Against all the odds. Now with a slowly dying bladder. Two years (or more!) of this long slow struggle. But all good.

Time takes time and Lady Death dances with me so immutably. We are One. We shimmy and shake and languorously glide in an elegant tango of oestrus and subsequent decay.

I am okay. Another day yawns before me. Old damaged tvt tape slung bladder and me, will cooperate through another day. As we have always done. :-)

What’s the old saying? “They tried to kill me, I won, let’s eat, drink, dance and be wild and merry!”

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I was about to wash my mug from last night (kept beside my bed). I said to Beauregard’s spirit last night “I miss you sooo much Bobo!” Well, here he is. A “Hello” from the Ether. I guess I see what I want to see. But it does look a bit like him.

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A gift from Sacred Space. Have a beautiful day, Friends and family and people of Earth! Xxx

The beautiful phalaenopsis orchid gifted to me yesterday by Margot Anderson. It has already unfurled another bloom. I am very happy and grateful. Such joy to behold!

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4:57 pm I’ve been exhausted all day but I managed to go out to buy groceries. Not enough. But something to keep me going.

I rang Housing about the blocked bathroom sink and the taps that don’t turn off. So I was lying in my hammock, reading and testing when a plumber arrived about an hour ago.

He quickly cleared the sink blockages, which he says were gross and then he re-seated the taps. He said the drain will be 10 times better but the drainage will still be a bit slow as the pipes are so narrow.

I nodded. Grateful they came out so quickly and without the insane fighting I endured every time I had to call out for repairs during Covid.

I am still waiting for an electrician to arrive tomorrow, to put in a new circuit for the kitchen problem.

It’s been a gorgeous warm sunny day. Pity I feel so unwell. Otherwise I might have enjoyed it even more.

19 September 2022

Watching the Funeral of Queen Elizabeth 11. Wow!

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Beauregard has had a bath (semi-willing) and a most unwilling brush session (lots of growling and snarling!) so we are celebrating his new hygiene successes with a coffee at Amanda’s whom he was most excited to see!

He also had two schmackoes for the brushing out ordeal!

Before we left to come out for coffee, he also had a visit from Miss Koko! Fabulous!

Yesterday afternoon we went to drumming and he had a very enthusiastic time with Miss Ivy who happened to be in season.

It was hard to curb his enthusiasm in this instance. But he is quite tired today.

Beauregard is a real boy, not a toy like Pinocchio!

19 September 2021

19 September 2020

Peter’s possum box is a success. Brush tail possum is resting inside. I am soo happy she likes it!

19 September 2019

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He studies me like a lab rat. Tweaks at my soul. A pinch and a punch for the first of the month. He watches my emotions seethe beneath my skin. Learns the ones I bury deep to sink like cankers in my watery depths. A cancer waiting to bloom until I scream my streaming into the nightmarish dream.

He watches from the shadows or the edge of the abyss. Sees me falling into the rabbit hole but waits for me on the other side. (He won’t enact his own Fall). I write him lovesick sick sick poetry and beg for his love. I curse and proclaim my accursed farcical fate.

But still he watches. Afraid of a love so immense that it even terrifies and stultifies my own Self.

I let him go in an agony of eons, but still he comes. My friends scream “he’s here!” Thinking they are being protective. But I need no protection from him. For I have called his spirit and he and I are bound by something dark but also light and lovely. Golden lights never lie even if they threw us both into sabotage and distrust and chaos. Hell, even I know that!

I never had a man love me before. Not like that. Body Mind and Soul. Bound by heart and some ancient ancestral kinship. “It’s spiritual!” But evil would not let me have him. It is probably for the best. Envy and spite tore us apart and kept us apart but ultimately, the heart knows it’s Beloved.

In every world and paradigm. From the oceans’ depths to the galactic summer sky. The tsimtsum of Creation. Pushing and pulling. Breaking down and rebuilding. Desecration and slaughtering of my kinstugied heart. But look how it shines! A jewel in the firmament. A crown created for a broken little girl who made her love Sublime.

Utterly ridiculous. What kind of Fool, am I? Well...Darlings...the very best manufactured by trauma..fool.

I will kiss you in four places and call your name to the blue summer sky.

Hmmmm. Spirit with her cryptic sardonic playful messages again.

Psy Sighs. Psychedelic Dreamer is grateful for the beautiful weekend I just had, for the Love and Acceptance, for the Dance amongst the Sephirot. For the tender approach of friends: old and new. For the laughter. For my indomitable spirit. For the passion.

Time to get on with my day. Shalom y’all x

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I just had a funny thought. A palm reader back when I was 30 years old told me that I would be in a love partnership when I am 60 and that the man will think that “I walk on water!”

He said that men would come and go but I would not find authentic love until that time. So far, so good. I actually hoped that the timelines were a bit out. He had also told me I would have major gynaecological surgery when I was 50 but that happened earlier when I was 42.

So hohum. Not really bothered. Life and Love finds its own way (and Sway!) But here comes the kicker! I just glanced at my cover photo and was greatly bemused at the look of me “walking on water”. The shallows on the incoming tide at Byron Bay several months ago.

Dare the Psychedelic Dreamer delirium continue?....Hilarious!

I used to think that I would be too old and possibly too bitter to ever want a partner again by the time I am 60! But now, it’s slowly creeping up on me and I am getting younger like Benjamin Button.

Soon I will be cradled in big strong loving arms again. Move over all you nasty petty jealous motherfuckers... it’s My Turn for romance and passion and maybe in time, when I trust again...(Jesus!!!) ... a commitment of heart and soul, body and mind that is actually real, enduring and blessèd.

Maybe I will meet a Pagan and have a series of handfastings (one year and a day) as I am heavy going and I don’t like my love to be a hellish prison.

Or maybe I will meet someone who thinks every moment with me is pure delight and bliss so he never finds me too “heavy” and if I do he carries me or tosses me into the air, like that lovely young Irishman last year or those delightfully crazy NZ navy men. (As long as they catch me and put me back on my Hobbitses feet on solid ground. Gentle with Mama T old lady bonesssss!)

Or maybe this is just a weird sort of nervous breakdown and an authentic Lover is never going to manifest for me. Shit. Que sera sera! ;-)

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1:01 pm. Giggles. My angels are working hard on me. Tricksters. But very cute!

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1:11pm. Ad nauseum

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Listening to my beautiful Muse’s CD. Toni Childs “It’s a Beautiful Noise” :-)

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I just vacuumed the house but now have referred pain from my liver around my back. Had a sore arm and neck last night too. I probably should get my assets back to the doctor but I have zero trust in them now. I will heal myself eventually. Or die. Because fuck it...enough already!!!

It’s a beautiful day. I am content, apart from my weird processing this morning and strange manifested muscular pains.

I am waiting on Jarrod’s visit this arvo 🙂. I always look forward to our weekly visits. Otherwise it’s just the dog, cats, bird, fish and me and my mad baltering social intercourse on the weekend.

I am not lonely. Not very often. Loneliness is a terrifying emotion. I abhor it. But I have been known to feel incredibly lonely and misaligned, even while dancing joyously in a crowd.

There is nothing more beautiful, soulful and life-enhancing than being with people who value your energy/spirit/intentions and joy.

So thank you Richard Mahler for the heartfelt welcome to the drumming circle last Sunday. You are a delightful Human. 🙂

Thank you Catherine Holdsworth for your epic sweetness on Monday. I still have the “lucky $2” you blessed me with on Saturday night, with your deep love and wish for me to be loved and have abundance in this life!

I bought a lotto ticket for tonight even though I am not much of a gambler as I received so much love and positive encouragement from all my beautiful friends last week, that in all honesty, I feel like a much valued and precious Warrior Goddess Queen and with love like that, I cannot lose! 😉

I love you all x

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11:11 pm. Laila Tov :-)

19 September 2018

On this day Yom Kippur, a day of trembling for the Lord in repentance, I am once again without a shule and frankly after the treachery of past decades which still sits like a craw in my throat I would not want to belong to one anymore. So I observed the day, thinking about the recent awfulness of former friends and my role in my wider community - the hedonistic wild dancing one.

How I am both fêted and at times hated for no good reason but that I show up in all my glory, shimmering in my finery and fury and my desire for freedom, brief moments of celebration and vitality.

I was trying to remember how the chagim became such a source of trepidation and depression for me, instead of the edifying joy of continuity, forgiveness and community. (I did get a sense of that with Kadimah but once again, that lovely congregation was sabotaged and stymied by several male egos vying for power in a mad sort of dynamic of what I observed as nothing short of patriarchal penis posturing).

I often regret remaining silent, in awe of my erudite and powerful male leaders. I should have given them the tongue lashing they all deserved and perhaps it might have made them see how destructive their competitive natures were becoming. But I waited and watched and let it all fall away.

A shame. Events happened beyond anyone’s control and all we can do is bide our time for our own star to rise.

I see the tribal affiliations again, supporting only the inner elite circle (with tzedakah) and when I asked for assistance for a friend in crisis - stony silence.

Yom Kippur has no real meaning anymore. Unrepentant hypocrites who trade on child abuse and sorrow. Staining our consciousness for generations.

They can only gift me or love me as a victim or survivor. As a pitiable schnorrer schmendrick figure. Funny!

A warrior goddess sees all and knows her Worth.

I am Sorry but I will no longer be grovelling in the dust for your entertainment. Sit with me. Hold my hand or watch me fly.

Update 29 September 2025: Interestingly two nights ago, while watching tv, not thinking about anything in particular, I “heard” the words “L’ Shanah Tovah, Tika belle!”

I got such a surprise I almost fell off the couch. I realised later that Spirit meant “Tinkerbelle”. But it got misheard or mispronounced across the vortices of time and space!

“Someone” has observed my distress at another new spiritual turning of a new year and my lapsed Jewishness.

I think it’s lovely that the spirit wished me a happy new year in Hebrew then referred to me as Tinkerbelle, as I live in Titania’s Realm under the love and protection of Queen Titania and King Oberon now. Don’t freak out, I am still grounded in my earthly hobbit body. Not escaping into the next dimension just yet.

But I still think it’s cute that the fae communicate with me now, on rare occasions. Or it could have been the dead former lover David Davidson who pops in occasionally like a bad re-run of “The Ghost and Mrs Muir!”

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Well, after all my kvetching and krechtzing about not having a shule and becoming a full fledged Heathen, HaShem in Their infinite wisdom performed a miracle. My friend Sally picked me up for the Yizkor service.

So I attended a shule that I had a lot of mixed feelings about (cptsd...zere is a history darlinks). But it gets better. I rise above the evil glare from one of the women in the sanctuary and sit and recite the prayers etc. We all take turns to read out a list of our dearly departed.

As the list is going around the congregation I think to myself “dear god, I hope I don’t have to rattle off the names of any of my enemies!” With a wry internal berserk smile. My beloved former parents in law had already been called out (early in the alphabet!)

When the list comes to me to rattle off ten or so names, I recite them then baulk at the last one. My mother! (Who technically should not be on the list as she was not Jewish. Also my own mother who was so damned evil to me most of my life). But I rose above it. Handed the list to Sally who recited the name for me.

I decompensate into confusion and horror (earlier I said about going back to that shule that had caused me years of distress that “I have to face the hag sometime”). Little did I know I would be about to call my own former mother’s name.

So a little later, in fits of giggles, I said “Die Alte Hexe can find me anywhere, Darlings!” It was hilarious and complicated.

Shanah Tovah from a Jew who still lives with her very own daemons. Let there be peace in the upper and lower worlds. Genug Already!

Never underestimate the power of the Spirits and the Holy One to make us turn and turn again on the Return. Gevalt! Lol!

(Now you all comprehend why I need a Shaman to chase that demon far away from me lmao!)

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Not well today. Asthma was bad last night. Today I just feel depleted.

Beautiful morning outside. I sat outside with Charlie for 2 hours. It was lovely. Now back in bed.

19 September 2017

I have slept so much since early Sunday morning. Needed the rest.

I had a lovely evening with Jarrod last night. We watched Electric Dreams which was interesting.

When he left I had to sleep in the spare bed as I had hung my pillows and doona outside to air and forgot them so they were wet with a heavy dew. The spare bed is very comfortable but I was awake from 4.30-5-30 am so facebooked then went back to sleep, exhausted. Too much dancing nearly kills me but I am having a nice life after all!

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No idea why people are scared of the creators coming to earth to guide/protect us.

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19 September 2016

Trigger warning: Othering. Religious conversion, seeking home/family/belonging. The stranger in the midst. Dying.

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A young man Herschel Aaroncijk who would one day migrate to NZ, change his name to Harry Arons, marry Hinde Drukier, have 3 children and as an old man meet a girl on a horse. Actually a young 15 year old girl who fell off her horse. He ran across the road to check on her. Fearing she was hurt. She wasn't. She was lying very still, checking all her bones before getting up, albeit feeling a bit dazed.

2 years later that young girl was dating his son. A year after that, that silly fool of a girl had proposed to his son and been rejected. She wasn't Jewish and had a German mother. The sins of the fathers from a war that was ended 20 years before her birth. That even her German Narcopath arsehole mother had no say in when it began when she was 12 years old. As if anyone had had the balls to prevent that war anyway.

A loud obnoxious twerp with little man syndrome and delusions of taking over the entire world nearly did us all in. How he was fussed over and fêted!

So here she was at 18 years old fighting an old man to prove a) she was no Nazi and b) on the contrary she wanted to be a jew.

He refused to meet her or accept her for a year. But when they finally had their showdown. The young girl and the old man, there was a spark of recognition. Of respect.

Worlds collided, islands fell into the sea. There was smoke, there was ashes and there was a great burning lump of destiny between them. She felt he actually loved and most definitely respected her more than her fiancé.

For her part, that stubborn fiery teenager began to doubt what she had fought so damn hard for? To belong? To be safe? Loved? Hahaha. Cataclysmic renderings of a traumatised mind.

Destiny won out. She vowed to stay Jewish. She promised grandchildren. He never lived to see them. 6 weeks later he was dead. 2 weeks before he died, he begged her to put on her secondhand wedding dress. To show it to him. She obeyed.

He looked with a pleased eye then commented (under the veil of morphine) "But it is not green?! Green is my favourite colour!" She promised there would be plenty of greenery amidst the orchids in the bouquet. And so there was.

The wedding (a traumatic event due to his passing 2 nights before, then her own mother's viciousness) took place with a solemnity and a fear. She was barely there. It had lost its magic. It was a procession to hell.

All for the promise of life, safety, her children (his grandchildren). She kept her part of the bargain. If he had lived he would have kept his. Kept loving her and admiring her. His little Nemesis. His daughter in law.

As soon as the Kiddush ended, the guests left the shule like a bomb had gone off. She stood desolate with a groom that had no idea. No empathy.

Even her sister who had some couth, made an announcement that there would be afternoon tea at her home to celebrate with bride and groom. A kindness.

So back to her new home with her new husband she went. He insisted she get changed out of her bridal gear. A bride for a 20 minute ceremony and a brief Kiddush and already under duress to strip herself of her glory.

She was young. She was tired. She was in grief for a man who had once quipped that she would marry his son over his dead body. He had not factored in that he would adore her and leave her so unwillingly.

The hospice room with a suffering Christ hung above his bed, that she had wanted to tear down as he, an old Jew was left on top of bedsheets, exposed and naked. The staff did not care. So she, his soon to be daughter in law, had covered his nakedness with a sheet.

His own children, too busy arguing about not getting a mink cape in his dying weeks and his money and their usual disgusting callow greed. Filthy people. Utterly filthy.

But she was their sister in law and how they turned like vicious curs upon her.

Ahh, but life is long and arduous and karma really is magnificent.

Harry and Hilda and me. Their blood runs in my daughters' veins. And I am free.

And that my friends is why I will never marry again. My one and only marriage was an accursed affair. From beginning to end, I had had to fight. And for what? For nothing.

Hilda had begged me. "Don't fight. They will always win in the end. You will just wear yourself into the ground".

I came to stay with her after he died, our Harry. She had a light in her eyes. Of freedom. Of triumph, of joy. I was shocked.

I myself was very ill with a bad chest infection. She made me hot milk with butter and honey and insisted I drink it hot. It was weirdly soothing. She tucked me into bed like a small child. (I was 19).

She fussed over me in the style of another of my mothers, June Robertson. I felt strange. Uncomfortable. I was supposed to be looking after her. But she was delighted to coddle me. She told me how she was so happy to be free, at last.

I did not quite comprehend the enormity of it. Of love, being a slavish curse. Of being a dried dead husk that once laid upon youth's dreams and a young girl's passion. Nor what we had to kill inside our souls to survive it.

But then at 28 I knew. I, the warrior of life and love and spirit, got my freedom. Paid the price of it over and over again. Even now. No getting out of life alive card. No getting away from your tormentors without repercussions that last decades. For the sake of the children.

How they lied and manipulated to keep me close by, to see the children, to control and lie to and mentally abuse me and my children. Collateral damage.

Now even my children are gone from me. I fought to keep us together, to keep us safe. Another ignominous wasted effort. Now my children are my memories, my dreams, my animals, my garden.

Wishing, hoping, yearning for the true love that has until now, eluded me. Hope springs eternal, infernally false but so pretty - hold it in my hand, clutch it to my beating chest, kiss it then let it fly away.

Hahaha! Funny old world. Funny life of the Tanya. My father loved to sing to me "The first time ever I Saw your face" sung by Roberta Flack. There is a line "I saw the sun rise in your eyes".

My eyes are open. They burn with decades of grief and shame and violation. But they have seen the glory of love's promise, love's desire.

Psychedelic dreams swirling into oblivion…but so majestic. So poignantly beautiful.

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19 September 2015

6 am. I stayed up all night, sorting beads. Lots more to sort, lots more to throw out. Time to sleep. Karen and I are going out tonight. It will be good to dance.

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6 pm. Just woke up. Another day without sunlight, but much needed rest. Harvey had a brief sojourn in the garden at 10 am barking at people so I had to bring him inside. He didn't mind. We went straight back to bed. Stayed here all day :-).

Time to rise and shine!

19 September 2014

Today has been a beautiful day so far. (I got up at midday!) I had two lovely long chats with my closest friends. Lyn told me that I had given some very sage advice to a mutual friend who had taken it on board and had made significant changes to her lifestyle.

I won't take too much credit as I was probably being an arsehole and speaking my own truth but hey, if the right words made a difference then I am happy with that and feel validated.

I am taking things easy today as I still feel a bit unwell and weak. I might go out later, see how I feel. I want to run wild but it won't hurt to stay home and rest up.

Karen and I have plans to meet up tomorrow night and go out. So that should be fun!

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I spent the evening raking dead leaves and burning them in my brazier. I got covered from snout to tootsies in sootsies... whoopsies! So I took a long shower and decided to go out even though my neck is a bit stiff.

I have rose thorn splinters in my thumb and still smell vaguely of smoke even though I had a good scrub.

I am looking forward to a great night out and a nice cold Jack Daniels has my name on it.

I also spent late arvo cleaning the back fishpond out. It was rather green and sludgy. When I have spare cash I will have to buy a solar pond pump and filter for it.

I counted 10 goldfish. Some are still uncoloured freaks of nature but I love them anyway. I am surprised how big they are growing. They are almost 1 year old.

I potted some of the water poppy. I also refreshed the barley straw. While I was busy doing all that I had the hose on back garden as it is so damn dry. I need to buy mulch one fine day!

I felt dreadfully exhausted at 5 pm so I am glad my energy levels had a bit of a boost and I enjoyed pottering in the garden.

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Top of my suitcase.

19 September 2013

I didn't go to sleep last night, worked all day, marinading chicken wings, baking banana bread (who am I and what did they do with the Real Tanya????), washing, putting things away, and at dawn (a rare vision of loveliness since I live like a Vampyre) I went outside, pottered with my fishponds and raked leaves, and collected them and put them in my compost bin.

I was busy busy busy like a woman possessed....Wolf Woman with the impending Full Moon....all energised and euphoric and kinda driven. No sexual partner so I put myself to work lol.

By 1 pm I was exhausted, went to rest but couldn't sleep and by 2 pm I was finally sleeping only to be woken several times by Crystal who had lost her mobile phone. Grrr.

So around 6ish I got up agin, and kept working....baked some more banana bread as I'm using up all the over-ripe bananas from my trees and the bread machine is marvellous. Then I heated up the berry pie I made 2 days ago in the oven. Ate that, lol. Then I grilled the chicken wings....ate those.

Now a very full tummy, and still exhausted. Dishes mostly done...just got the grill to do.

Tomorrow I get the car serviced which is awesome as I have been very worried about not servicing it but a very dear friend lent me the money so I can keep the service appointment and feel safer on the road.

So I really feel like I am getting on top of things that had been stressing me for several months. A real sense of achievement, chipping away at one problem after another and very grateful for the financial support (loans) from my gorgeous friends which help keep my head above tideline.

19 September 2012

In a lot of pain but will look great when the area heals up. The temporary tooth looks so good unlike the crap ones the Public Dental Hospital used to give me which made me look like Bugs Bunny!

I am lucky to have this dental implant. When it's finished I will be able to smile without feeling and looking like a Freak. Awesome!

Comments:

Bee me: Pictures!

Me: Not yet! Not pretty yet lol! Still swollen. Get stitches out next Tuesday and had a massive cold sore on my top lip as well so um... Not photogenic yet, as if I ever were lol!

I saw the X-ray though. The implant goes all the way up to under my schnozz which is why my nose is swollen and tender too!

Bee Mee: Yowee! I hate dentists ... with a passion. heeby jeebies big time!

19 September 2011

I had a lovely day with Gail and Tahylia at the Ipswich Art Gallery children's section viewing the most amazing collages made by Jeannie Baker for her book "Mirror" about an Australian family and on the other side of the world a Morroccan family.

The paper tole type collages were so intricately detailed and amazing. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Gail and I both wish we had enough money to buy the book!

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons