The Sutras of Patanjali  Book 1  verse 15 states

"Non-attachment is freedom from longing for all objects of desire, earthly or traditional, either here or hereafter." 

The symbol here is the fish swimming in matter, in the astral waters or emotional attachment to that which is material. 

Similarly the Celtic salmon speaks to us of  the wisdom such understanding brings.

This means, I have discovered today, that for non-attachment to be achieved, even the most persistent and pervasive dreams for one's life must be released in order to free the soul from the desire for form life.

Non- attachment is the goal, no doubt achieved over many lives. It is right and fitting, however, that we should practise it as much as we are able in each and every round.

I'm working on it.

The final part of Chapter 12:

The next Monday evening Rhona received her final instructions. They were to be in Kerikeri by six on Friday evening. Gracie was keen to know where they would be staying.  They sat together in the kitchen and went over the itinerary. Justin had booked out a whole motel in Kerikeri, which was to be the base camp from which they would travel to various locations. He was flying up Thursday with the photographer and crew. Everything was set up to shoot all day Saturday and possibly part of Sunday but they needn’t check out until Monday morning. There was studio work in Auckland scheduled for the following week.

Gracie went off to answer the phone, zipping back to her mother to say it was Philip wanting to know if it was convenient for him to call around to see them. Rhona hadn’t expected to hear from him after Friday’s episode. How odd, she thought. He would hardly have left it so long if he was going to apologise for the other night.

Gracie was in her pyjamas and dressing gown, but she opened the door to Philip when he arrived. He had never been to the house before. From the kitchen Rhona heard him make Gracie laugh with some clever remark. As he took the seat Gracie offered him in the lounge Rhona came through with a tray. “Hello there. I hope you’re not catching Charlie’s taste for conspiracy.” She poured coffee and offered him drambui saying “You see I provide the Dutch courage. What are you up to?”

He ignored Rhona’s comments, only smiling at her before asking Gracie if her parent was always so pessimistic.

The girl laughed and shook her head. “You know she isn’t. She’s just had a lot of surprises lately, eh Mum?”

Rhona sat in the Victorian nursing chair she had bought herself recently and looked with pretend spite at her daughter before she turned back to Philip. She wondered if she should go easy on him after their last encounter, and decided against it. She was smiling, playfully “To what do we owe the honour this evening?”

He reached into his jacket and extracted two square packages. Standing up to pass them over he made a playful bow “Here you are. One each.”

“Oh how lovely.” Rhona asked the obvious. “Is it a CD?”

One side of his mouth was twitching as he said seriously “Truly madam you are a genius. Open it and see.” Before he sat himself down again. Gracie had the wrapper off hers “Cool New Order. Oh way cool. Thanks heaps Philip. How did you …oops”

He raised his eyebrows.  “You wish to know how one so ancient knew what you liked?” Gracie laughed and nodded “By devious means. I checked the history on the gallery lap top. There were nearly a hundred to choose from.” He saw Gracie’s face change and she began to bite her lip in just the way her mother did when she was bothered.

“No, no,” he said smiling, “I told you it was fine to use it. I hope you enjoy playing that at the motel or in the car. It’ll be a novelty for you after all those downloads.”

Meanwhile Rhona had unwrapped hers and was holding it on her lap, watching the exchange. As he turned to her his voice was softer, asking her if it would do.

He had found an early recording of Jacqueline du Pre with the London Symphony. It was the Elgar E minor Concerto.

“I don’t know what to say,” Rhona said avoiding his eyes. “It means a great deal to me.” She was thinking : It's a mistake to read too much into this, my girl. Every time you see him he touches a raw nerve somewhere.  “Look Gracie.” She passed the CD across.

“That’s the coolest Philip” Gracie got up to give him a hug, carefully dodging his coffee cup. Rhona saw how unused he was to spontaneous displays of affection, though he covered it well with another joking remark. Gracie remembered she had practice in the morning and realized she should be in bed on time. As she was saying goodnight to her mother she whispered “Show him your work.” Rhona frowned and shook her head as she went off to her room.

There was a brief silence while Rhona debated how to get around that bombshell. She glanced at Philip who was watching his liqueur closely as he gently revolved the glass. Eventually she said “We are driving up to Kerikeri. I will enjoy better music that I expected, thank you.” He looked at her then and she was surprised to notice that his eyes were hazel.  Somehow she had always imagined they were green, like her own. She tried to think of a way to explain, about last Friday, but in the silence he said “Do you remember you promised to tell me what it was you were doing that was so much more diverting than selling trivia in my gallery?”

Her eyes widened. “I never said it was trivia.” He continued to regard her steadily. She made a lop-sided smile. “I suppose you heard Gracie did you?”

He kept his face expressionless. “I make it a policy never to eavesdrop.”

Rhona blew out her cheeks and put down her cup. There seemed to no escape. Collecting her liqueur glass she stood up.  “All right. Just promise- no false diplomacy. Come with me.” She led the way to the spare room, her satin house shoes clipping on the wooden floor.

Rhona held the door wide and gestured to the easel and the small stack of primed but unmarked canvasses. She waved him in. “Take a look. There’s not much to see yet.” He stood a moment in front of the easel which had an outline sketch resting on it, before turning slowly until he was directly in front of her. Looking down into her defiant, upturned face he said levelly “Show me the rest.”

Rhona rolled her eyes. “In the wardrobe. Help yourself. I’m going to clean up.” She tried to dodge out again but he blocked her exit with his arm across the doorway. “Oh no”, he said firmly, “take your medicine. Show me.”

She scowled at him but at least he hadn’t grabbed her again. “Oh honestly,” she was trying to sound exasperated. As she balanced her glass on the window ledge she added “I never knew you could be so provoking.”

She threw open the double doors and started to hand out the completed canvasses. There were only four. Philip lined them up against the wall and moved the easel to one side. The light wasn’t ideal but he could see well enough. Rhona stayed by the wardrobe with her arms folded over her middle, chewing her lip and watching his face.

 This was the ghastly part of the painting process – having it assessed by An Authority. Worse still an Authority of considerable experience and high integrity to whom she would listen- and respect. Eventually he looked over at her and said in an impersonal way “Keep going.” He paused and looked at the work again before he said “The compositions are good. I suppose there are twenty-two planned are there? Ambitious- good on you.” He moved up to help her put them away. She couldn’t look at him until he lightly touched her hand. His fingertips were dry and warm on her skin.  His “Thank you” was delivered in a formal way and then he left her to herself.

When she came out a moment later he was standing in the middle of the lounge, arms at his sides, feet slightly apart, facing toward the bookshelves. She hesitated, watching his stance for signs of tension, wondering what had fixed his attention. Aware of her presence, he turned and said briskly “Well, good luck for the Easter job. I had better be going.”

Rhona nodded and pulled at the sleeve of her light knit dress. For a moment she expected him to say something else to her. As she opened the front door she managed to say “Thank you for the CDs and, you know, the encouragement. You are very kind.”

Philip passed out on to the step. “Maybe, but that’s not why I came.” Before she thought to ask him what he meant, his dark green Rover was moving out of the drive.