Phoenix Rose Scentsorium - The Family Aromatherapy Service - Healing that makes Scents

What's in a Name?


Stuff I Like

Phoenix Rose Bio

Guests' Honour Roll

Contact Phoenix Rose



Entry page




In memory of some of the Beings who have touched my life & left me - changed.

George Bathurst Miller

This is the man who first lit the spark of light that has guided me along my Path in this life. As a child, he recognised something within me that has taken me many years to find & recognise myself. Long before he married my mother, he took me into his heart. In later years he opened his soul to me in ways that I didn't really appreciate until he was gone. His smile, his sparkling eyes, his wicked sense of humour and his wonderfully huge & open heart will always remain with me.
I am sure our paths will cross again, Skip. I hope we recognise each other

Curly Cat

Curly, resplendent in the Sun on the Pennyroyal Patch.

Curly left us on 16th March, 2003.

I am not yet ready to write her story - she is missed beyond words.


Yoda's story is yet to come ... a gentle soul, and a special friend.
Here he lies on my bed, surrounded by my Aromatic learnings.
The orange box he is curled around is full of my Indian essential oils & attars.
One day, Yoda just wasn't there any more - we don't know what happened to him.


Pawnie was a stray I brought home from my wanderings one day. When he was still a kitten, he fell from a window ledge onto the verandah. It wasn't a big fall, but he was just a little cat and he never really recovered. He remained a little cat as he grew, his back legs a bit crooked & wonkey.

I was 5. I sat at the breakfast bench and sewed a blue ribbon around his neck and the adults who were there expressed amazement at the trust he showed in me as I wielded the needle & thread while he sat there - perfectly still, perfectly trusting, letting me sew him into a blue ribbon.

One day, I couldn't find him. One day stretched to two, to three ... I remember sitting on the piano stool, practising scales and my Mother came to me and told me that she had found Pawnie. He had curled up in The Digging Patch in the back yard and had gone to sleep and the fairies had come & taken him away from his body and he was with them now and was happy.

I had never met Death before. I was 6. I still love you Pawnie.

Tom & Rosie

We had just moved to the Mountains from the City, Narayan & I. It was a good move - I had found my Secret Garden, which is another story for another time. All we lacked was cats in the yard, cats in the house. So we found a "free to good home" ad in the Gazette and went to Blaxland to choose two kittens to share our lives. They were house-bred but wild and it took a while for them to recognise us as their family. We brought Tom & Rosie home with us. He was a strong beautifully marked tabby with a possom coloured belly & thick luxurious fur. She was softly grey & fluffy, her tabby markings muted by the long fur & interrupted in places with white. She had more of her Mother's half Persian breeding in her than he did.

It was Narayan's 4th birthday when they came to live with us. They lived with us for many years, seeing him through school and me through Motherhood. Tom was Narayan's special feline friend - I'm sure he brought much comfort to those turbulent childhood years. I know Rosie did for me. Both of them were gentle compassionate loving beings & they knew nothing about putting conditions on their love. Through many times of sadness & sorrow, either Tom or Rosie would be there, sitting snuggled up spreading love & quiet & peace, or sometimes just looking deep into troubled eyes to soothe the hurt.

Rosie left us first - Bob & I sat with her while Lyn, the vet, gave her the injection that sent to over the Rainbow Bridge. Narayan couldn't bring himself to watch that passing. We cried together as we said farewell. We buried her in the Garden and gave her to a Blue Moon Rose to nurture.

Tom left us on my 47th birthday. The people at work were somewhat bewildered by the strength of my grief. This time, I wasn't there to be with him on his passage out of this world and I regretted that. I still do. Three nights later, he came to me in my dream journeying. He lay on his side, his body still and lifeless, and his everliving eyes looked deep into my soul and said farewell and I knew he had truly been there. I can still see those eyes - full of love and compassion and tinged with sorrow.

I still grieve for you, Tom & Rosie - my tears still fall when you come to my mind and my memories of the years I was blessed with your company are tinged with sadness at your passing. I wish you both well on your Journey, where-ever you may be.


I do not know where Hamsa is. I cannot imagine what dispair made her leave her 3 young children to fend for themselves in this world. There was a time when she may have come to me for help in her troubled life. But this was not to be in the end. In the end, she died alone, friends who were around her bewildered that their friendship had not given her strength or hope or courage or life. I think I have passed through the guilt of being such a friend, of not knowing that she was in need, of not being there for her.
Where ever you are Hamsa, I hope you know that the world is not as empty as it must have seemed for you back then. Go in peace & love, Friend.

Charlie Arnold

My first glimpse into the person inside my father was during one of my early meetings with him after a 13 year absence of contact. We were driving behind a car which had a 'Save the Whales' sticker on the back windscreen. "I tend to agree", said Charlie. It was the first time I recognised compassion in this man. I think it was at that moment that I forgave him for leaving me when I was 7 years old, forgave him for that final argument with my Mother which I witnessed, forgave him for giving his life to a brother & sister I never got to play with, never got to know. Forgave him for being human.

Charlie died on Christmas Day, 1999.

Stanley Earles Craig

Grandpa Craig - Mum says I have inherited his healing hands and his shape ! I can only remember spending time with him on one occasion in my life. I was almost 5 and my brothers & I spend a summer's month with Grandma & Grandpa at their holiday home on the south coast of Western Australia.
TCP. The Craig's Place.
I have such vivid memories of those days - happy & sad, loved & lonely. But the memory that stays with me the strongest is not of an event or a place or even really of a person... it is of a feeling ... a feeling of knowing my Grandpa, & being known & understood by him, in a way that was beyond the comprehension of my young years. But it is a feeling that has kept me close to him throughout my life and it is still a wonder to me that I only knew him for 4 weeks so very many years ago.