Memories: 21 August 2023

21 August 2023

12:53 pm Another beautiful day! I just finished retrieving memories from fb to update my vocal media journal. Intense but interesting. I also listened to/ watched the Hocus Focus podcast my Sarah Mondaini and Thomas Sheridan. Entertaining!

21 August 2022

9:49 am I just woke up. I had another interrupted night but this morning my dreams were intense. Just like being in a tv series. It almost felt like real life.

In the dream I was walking around a fairly posh neighbourhood. Admiring the homes. It felt like my childhood home Island Bay but the homes were more extravagant.

My childhood friend Philip Hoedemaeckers made an appearance. I told him that I was not in love with him but as we grew up together on that beach and had a shared childhood I honour that. But he is not to “come to me in my dreams”.

So he left the dream and the next thing I was standing outside of what should have been his childhood home but the house was unrecognisable. Modern and open plan.

The owners saw me standing outside looking at the house, so they kindly invited me in. The wife was very warm and bubbly and had an almost excitable air about her.

The husband smiled welcomely but was more judiciously, carefully watching my reactions. They told me they were selling up and moving soon. They had indoor plants, climbing up the walls of the atrium. I said “Oh, a monsteria” but the husband calmly says “No, a type of philodendron”. The leaves were very large and shiny.

The wife started fretting that she would have to leave so many beautiful plants behind. I said “Take cuttings and get them started again in pots then you can take them with you and start again.”

She looked at me in amazement. “But it will take years to grow them to this state again?!” I nodded. Time takes time but there is always new growth and a new flourishing.

We stepped further into the room, which expanded further. (Interdimensional dreams do that).

There was a woman in her mid thirties lying on a couch, wrapped in a tan coloured blanket, with a small Child, about 2, lying cuddled up next to her. She was sleeping and the toddler seemed to be resting too. I started to walk over to her.

The wife says “Oh no, that is no longer our house but her part of the house”. I shrugged as I could not see the boundary or dividing line. I walked over to the woman. She looked a bit like Jasmine but was taller and beautiful but pale and wan in the style of new mothers everywhere.

The wife hurried over. “She is a psychologist. Quite quite alone, but no support. We dare not help her”. Why? I wondered. More interested in her plants. I looked at her husband. He stood quietly by, watching with interest and a kind of bemusement.

I abhor callow, lazy, passive aggressive, superficial people who think it’s funny to play one for a fool. But I look down at the woman and see real exhaustion and need there.

I reach down and the little boy looks up and reaches his little arms out to me. I gather him into my arms and he smiles and giggles with real delight and the kind of primary lifeforce that one usually only sees in the very young. His energy is sparkly, like electricity but not in a negative frissonéed way but just sooo vivacious. We are smiling into each other’s faces, seeing each other fully!

A thought comes to my mind “They are jealous of you, my love” I nod. Let them be. They are losers. I fought long and hard to have my dreams manifest.

I shrug the thought off. I bounce the little boy in my arms and he chortles with delight. His mother is still sleeping. Oblivious. I look again at her and tucked in one arm is a sleeping newborn. I had not even noticed the baby.

I look around the huge atrium style room, as the couple who are moving soon, wringing their hands with worry as it’s not my home, not my child, not my place. I smile. All is well.

I briefly wonder why they fear “the psychologist” so much and refuse to help her. She is a new mother and surely deserves support.

Then I wake up.

21 August 2021

21 August 2020

A week ago I lost my sacred space ring. It was only made out of stainless steel but came to me in May last year just before that fucked up surgery so it was a talisman of sorts.

I am hoping it turns up somewhere around the house and garden as it must have slipped off my finger.

What with losing my soulmate Penny and my ring last week I feel a bit fragile. Money is already gone down the gurgler (which always happens when I am in crisis) but I have negotiated a cheaper plan with Optus since my handset is paid off. So that will make things easier until I decide to buy a new iPhone.

I feel like I am walking a tightrope that is being bounced on by trolls either side of a great ravaging Divide. Dance for me, Baby!

I have no choice but to keep going forwards. Psy sighs.

…

…

21 August 2019

Trigger warning: vulgarity.

>

>

Funny and of course True story!

So this morning I forgot to put my Otto bin out for the garbage collection. Sometimes I don’t even care, but I had two eggs in it that had been boiled to extinction yesterday so I worried they would ferment in the Australian heat if left in the bin another week!

So I hear the grinding tones of the garbage truck backing up Topaz street which is usually enough time for me to race out to put the bin out on my side, on Diamond Street. So I bolt out the back door, running Hell for leather to beat the driver and his cumbersome truck.

He sees me running alongside him on my property, running as fast as my short fat 54 year old Hobbit legs will allow given the terrain of my place is hilly with the obstacle course of the hammock stand and my pots and the chook even getting in my path.

But Psychedelic Dreamer/The Tanya/laicadaisical freak of Nature Rannnnn.

(I almost never run, it is un-fucking-dignified...but rotten eggs is worse!)

So he sees me, pulling alongside me then planted his foot. He flies down Diamond Street with a serene smile on his fucking Aussie Larrikin face.

I stop just shy of my bin. (I had fought my way through the front gate!)

I stomp a little infuriated Hobbit Rumplestiltskin Stomp. It looked like my tribal warrior dance I do occasionally that I have done since I was 4 or 5 years old. Arms flailing, legs stamping, blood in my eye. I yelled out “Fffffuckkkk You” and gave him the friendly gesture of the furiously Damned with Both Fickle Feckless fingers. He kept speeding down the road like a crazed Motherfucker.

I burst out laughing. Fuck I thought. Eggs in bins can broil some more, attract maggots and poison my snobby cuntish neighbours’ Zen. Fuck! Why the Fuck should I care?! Some things are just Kismet!

I limped back inside. Fuming but amused. Game-playing twats everywhere.

Then I realised “Shit! He didn’t empty any bins in my street” they are gonna hate me....

So an hour and half goes by and he goes racing past again. Hahaha The sweet little psychopath had cared about my feelings and my stinking bin and my fury after all!!!

He came back, had re-routed like a fucking Champion. Nice fella after all.

I revoke my Hobbit stomping curses. (I was not that serious anyway, just a moment of impish fury at the “Game” Of Decay).

Come out to play next week Mate. My bin will be ready for you. Maybe....

He loves his job today. I love my life today. Win/win situation! :-)

…

11:11 am. Today is an honourable day. One that was worth staying alive for 🙂

Happy Dance. Love is the Law. The Law is starting to act with Love and Respect for survivors of child sexual abuse. Something that has taken centuries to evolve.

Humbling and sanctifying. The Divine Feminine is Smiling and so am I.

…

…

Housing inspector just left. I got him to take photos of the leak that Urban Utilities have blatantly ignored!!! Also told him the oven is STILL not working right after the tradie has been here.

He made no comments and was a bit freaked as I told him I did not hear his knocking (he had to phone me!!) as I was watching Cardinal Pell’s appeal. He can’t have knocked very loud as Bobo did not hear him either.

Anyway, on a happy note, Pell the evil Bastard, lost his Appeal. Justice for his survivors at last.

…

21 August 2018

My sewerage is overflowing yet again. The emergency plumber came around just as it was getting dark but it was too big a job. So hopefully another plumber will come tomorrow. I am so fed up with constant issues with the drainage.

I gave Crystal my car to take home as I won’t be going anywhere, sitting around waiting for a plumber.

I hope it gets fixed tomorrow. Unpleasant situation!

I got a call from my gp receptionist. So I made an appointment for Thursday. Vitamin D deficiency. No wonder I have had muscle weakness, bleeding gums, fatigue, lightheadedness.

I presume it is caused by my enlarged liver. Not metabolising the vitamin D properly. Will find out on Thursday.

I had a lovely dinner with Jarrod and Crystal (in spite of my frenzied paperwork clean out!). It all started when Crystal asked me to find a book that Jasmine had written as a child about Pygmies! She wanted to scan it and make a copy to send her.

I found the other Pygmy book but not the one we had in mind. G-d! I have put it somewhere safe so hopefully it will turn up eventually.

…

11:11 am. Also saw 11.01 am. Yesterday all the 11s. Not sure what the message is?

Awaiting the plumber. He was supposed to arrive between 9 and 10 am. Sewerage flowing down my property. Ghastly.

I know shit happens but does it always have to be my own shit and why can’t housing fix it properly? Gah. Anyway...a plumber has arrived as I write. Hopefully things will be resolved.

…

Plumber finished. I can use my toilet again, without flowing effluent. Yayyy!

Although it might be another battle as he says gravity might have dislodged the new pipe work they did a few years ago. Plus thirsty big trees looking for water stretching their roots. Poor things.

…

Feeling very weak today. But happy. Relieved that the plumbing is fixed. Beautiful blue skies. I lay out in my hammock and exposed my belly and legs to the sun. (Trying to get some natural Vitamin D before the doctor prescribes me some high doses. Probably have only manifested a sunburn or more melanomas but everything in harmony, babies).

I was thinking deeply about my nephew’s intention to migrate to The Gold Coast. I worry about the repetition of family history and karma. His father (who was a monstrous pig to me) is about have a hip replacement and now one of his sons is emigrating. Hmmm.

I cannot rejoice in how this karma is playing out as my ex husband and I migrated here in 1988 (a few months after my mother in law had a breast removed) and 9 days after we arrived here in Brisbane she died of a heart attack. Possibly the grief of losing her youngest son was too much for her? Or just bad timing?

But I was made to suffer for the choice to come here for months and years later, and I do not wish that on my nephew or his family.

Life can be cruel. People even crueller. Poor health dogs us all at some stage of our life. In my case, most of my life. I felt very vulnerable the whole time my daughter was in the UK but I was kept nourished/nurtured/cherished by good solid strong friends who buoyed me up in the darkest of days and nights.

I know how it feels to be sick and broken and impoverished and then to “lose” one’s family. Over and over again. So the temptation for schadenfreude at my former brother in law’s impending grief and loss is real and present but I find no joy in it.

Sometimes in life one has to accept that there are greater monsters both Seen and Unseen that attract misfortune, illness, negativity, disharmony, and we must learn to rise above it. Otherwise the misery and pain and afflictions of the past will continue to cycle back to us like a very bad dream or a bad case of gastritis.

The waters of redemption shall smooth down the stones of my heart and my bitterness, my griefs and my abandonments, my sense of betrayals by callow men and false lovers. By poisonous former family, even at times, by G-d him/herself.

I have Become. Another person. Another life. Stronger, weirder, but more determined and more loving of Self.

The Rolling Stones inside my guts and my enlarged liver were created by gall and grit and tears and a fierce fierce warrior’s power to survive and now they must be transmuted into peace and love and joy and limitless abundance: the stars, the sea, the air and everything in between.

So mote it be.

…

21 August 2017

21 August 2016

Magic happens. Life happens. Shit happens. Love = Magic= LIFE. Be in it. Do it. Make it. Complete it.

….

A hand reaches out to me, a lifeline life sentence. A 90 year old woman completely aware that she does not want to live to 100. A 51 year old woman completely aware that she should not have lasted this long.

Oh! How we laughed in the face of our very existence. The cosmic joke. No getting out of Life Alive card. So we are forced to cleave to the errant mockery and emptiness and pointlessness. Her and I.

She begged to be a grandmother to my dog. Then admitted she herself was childless. I demoted her to Auntie. "My dog has many Aunties, and uncles too". (My house has many mansions? My internal infernal soul depth many floors to escalate upwards or downwards on this jacob's ladder to heavenly hellish paradise?)

Whoops there she goes.

If I had known a few short sentences earlier, I would have permitted that wonderful vibrant Nonagenarian to be my dog's grandmother. She could even have been his Nona.

The pathos of a life. Reduced to yearning to be admired and respected as a Wise Old Woman, if only by a dog. The old woman and me. Both will never see our grandchildren.

Cruel twist of fate but we rejoice within the tattered garments of our lives. Empty vessels. Painted purple and red. Fleshed out, plumped out, puckering kisses to the Void. Beautiful.

….

I have been to the pharmacy. I got a repeat on a script for antibiotics I had a few months ago. Still bringing up phlegm, coughing (sporadically), feeling drained and weak. So I will try a course of these and if no better, I will have to go back to my doctor.

I also got some more HRT as going off it gives me bad withdrawals and the way I am feeling mentally at the moment, I don't need any of that.

I slapped a patch on in the car, while parked at the dog park, intending to take Bobo the Clown Psycho Puppy to the dogs. But as soon as I let him out of the car and led him in there, he went berserk.

Actually attacked a big border collie (who was not fazed and thought he was only joking) but he grew even more enraged then, so I literally had to grab him by the scruff and haul both our arses outta there.

I call it "the walk of shame" when my dog refuses to play nicely with others. So in the car he went, back home. He seemed relieved. Not the least bit sorry. So today has been a bad day for him and me but we are now chilling on the couch.

I dosed myself up with the heavy antibiotic and other meds I forgot to take this morning.

I hope to get better in a few days. If not: ENDSTAGE endstage, exit side left. Black out curtain. Fade to black. Send in the clowns and sue the Producers.

…

I have just eaten a bowl of basmati rice, with steamed (in the microwave) broccolini from my aquaponic garden, and 2 poached eggs, corn kernels and sweet chilli sauce. Yum! Pity I nuked the egg and broccolini or the meal would have been organic. I also made fresh coffee for first time in weeks. Felt like a caffeine rush I guess.

I am still exhausted but I am coughing more after taking the antibiotic at 4 pm. I think it is making things move deep down in my chest. Wishful thinking perhaps. Out damned Slime and negativity and purge that bacteria. I will fight you. Just because I can. No other reason.

I will wrest back control over this vehicle and drive myself into further bursts of creativity before I finally end transmission forever. (Blow a gasket!) I got stuff to do before that happens. Time is of the essence.

I finally can admit to myself that there are things to leave behind of great personal value that must be expelled from within my psychedelic dreaming ever-evolving confounded lambasted and mostly misunderstood psyche. Pugilistic purging of ephemeral brain matter before Dementia or Rigor Mortis sets in. Death defying feats of impudent audaciousness . Oh wait! We can tick those off.

Actually not sure where I am going or when but in the meantime I will fight for my right to practise the zen of psychobabbling and maybe still stomp some ghosts down occasionally, although I am done with dancing for now. Warriors need their rest. Eventually we all rest.

I missed out on the life I wanted. Over and again. But this is me now. Fairly discombobulated, fractured and unique. What does not kill you, makes you stranger. Weirder. Complex PTSD. Shadow dancing with shadow puppets.

Shine a light on that blanket show. Poof! They are gone. All of them. You have no power over me. You took too much. But I grew back again. In my own power. Now I just need to learn how to handle it.

…

She was 18 months old. Unbroken. Just a giant pet. Lol.

She was my soulmate. I was very psychically connected to her. I "knew" when she needed me. Like the time I found her trapped around her fetlock by rusted barbed wire from an old fence.

I had woken early (unusual for me even as a teenager) with a strong sense of foreboding. I packed her halter, got into my jeans and tshirt for the long hike in the hills to search for her. Mum asked me what I was doing? I shrugged. Said Asfa needs me. There is something wrong. My mother nodded.

Off I went. I walked up the hills for an hour before finding her lying down, trapped by the wire. Other horses standing nearby, helpless. I walked up to her. Calmed her and pulled the wire off. It must have hurt but was not too deeply embedded, thank god. She was smart and had not struggled too much.

I led her back down to the front paddock. She was very thirsty. I fussed over her. Drove home. Said I might need a vet. Mum gave me some antibiotic powder she had recently needed for her own wound. So off I drove back to the farmlet. Asfa had not run back into the hills. I put the powder on her wounds. She healed within days.

I would dearly love to have a horse again. It has been decades since I rode one.

…

…

…

Viva la Revolucion! Long live truth, light and Love!

21 August 2015

…

…

I am a Clown aka A Universal Schmuck! Or in Native American terms, Heyoka the Trickster. Or in Viking terms, Loki. Or just born a Mugwump as my father used to call me. Just fucking unlucky! But Like all unlucky tragic figures I remain positive that my life could change for the better.

That is called Denial and is not just a long river on the continent of Africa! So the Cosmic Joke continues and the devolution spirals out of control and the hurdy gurdy plays out of tune and the lovers love, endlessly patiently tortured (Psy Sighs!) while the Dreamer Dreams of comfort and stability and a real partner.

I have had my arse kicked since I was born and I always got up, got out, got through. It is just incredible what I managed to survive with no or very limited resources. Turning Shit to Spiritual Gold. True Alchemy. I am The Magician of the Tarot. But also the Fool, the High Priestess, The Empress.

Most of all I am Free and I look forward to the Next Adventure. In the meantime I am anchored in this world and intend to continue in my quest to have fun and Love my Life before I die.

…

Shabbat Shalom. I have spent the day in bed. Sleeping lots, and dealing with racing thoughts when awake.

Time to eat, drink and if I feel up to it by 10 pm, dance and be merry. My wound hurts a fair bit so I will not be pushing myself too hard.

…

Thank you to all my Healer friends. Little Rachel has come through the operation fine. She is eating and drinking. Such a great relief and such an ordeal for a small child. Her grandmother was very worried but is now pleased that Rachel is on the road to recovery.

21 August 2014

2.58 am Knackered. I have cooked chili con carne, made a huge pot of brown rice, and a jelly.

I have done a few loads of washing. Made room in my pantry (had to throw some very dried sultanas and the palm sugar out).

I have house guests for the next few weeks. To make room for them, I had to move all the toys off the spare bed into my camphor box and 3 very large stuffed toys are still out on top of that. I have so much stuff.

Lucky I sorted the linen collection the other day so I was able to make more room. Omg! It is epic! I will sleep well when I get there!

…

5.26 am going to attempt sleep now. Laila Tov/Boker Tov. Morning chorus from the birds will sing me to my sleep. :-)

21 August 2013

Waiting through the night and until tomorrow evening to see if Bella Survives the paralysis tick bite. Her breathing is very laboured and she has vomited small amounts of mucus and bile so I am hoping the poison is leaving her body.

My friends on Paltalk spent hours sending healing energy and watching over her with me. I am very grateful for everyone's lovingkindness and support!

One Scared Mother here!

…

21 August 2011

I went out with Jarrod to go to the city and on the bus he got a text from Crystal as she'd finished her audition early so we met up with her and went to Paddington to look at all the secondhand shops there, then we went to Macca's and then on to West End to The Three Monkeys.

At Paddington Jarrod picked two cuttings of coleus, one for both of us, and on walking home I finally got the nerve to snitch a piece of my neighbour's beautiful Camellia. (Now I have two different varieties of Camellia cuttings!) I hope they both strike as they are both lovely.

What a lovely afternoon and such a good day after yesterday's emotional turbulence. I love going out! It really does clear the head!

…

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons