Take Heart

Fragmentation. Not a pretty word under any conditions. A particularly scary word in reference to one's outer life. 

I was approached today by a young woman teetering at the edge of this dramatic growth process. 

While I invoked assistance for her growth and healing I listened to her express her understandable distress at what she called "a melt down".

There are times when the soul precipitates a process of destroying the unhealthy and rigid patterns of life in order to clear the ground for new healthier forms.

Clear signals advise us to stop, to be still - to desist. It is then unwise to ignore the prompting.

So easily said, yet such a difficult thing to do when the seeming solidity of financial and relationship pressure appear to conspire to keep us on the treadmill.

Yet it is vital for our progress that we do stop. Only then can we build the basis of trust on which the new life will be built. This trust springs from the point of realisation which arrives in the stillness. There we sense and know that life is constantly supporting our endeavour to be authentic - true to our essence.

"Take Heart" the old wisdom says. 

Surrender and Let Life Lead you on.

In trust allow those disconnected pieces of the known and unknown reassemble into a fresh, functional and pleasing new design.

Drawing from Life continues with Chapter 19

Philip spoke to Rhona a week later, after an art auction in Epsom. He mentioned Claus Petersen was thinking of retiring, or realising some capital at the very least. She heard his carefully non-committal voice, knowing he was suggesting the Devonport gallery was worth buying. 

"What makes you think I have the wherewithal to be interested in this information?"

His light laugh was there before the response: “I knew you would demand I show my hand. Your esteemed Aunt did happen to mention that you are a woman of substance these days.”

Rhona made an effort to sound severe. “You unscrupulous rogue and I thought you cared. I am interested as it happens- under certain conditions.”

As they walked out into the car park she stated her terms: firstly that Claus stayed on at least until March, preferably longer and, secondly, being able to lease the adjacent premises for a café. I could reopen the currently sealed connecting door between the two."

Philip stood beside her car and began a short exchange of sniper fire. "Did you know there were tea rooms there in the past?"

“Yes I did as it happens. What do you think?”

“I think it’s possible. Do you want to see the figures?”

“Absolutely- just not at the moment. What are your charges?”

“Reasonable. Do you wish me to proceed as your agent?”

He was loving this. It was as close to flirting as they had ever got. Yet both were perfectly serious about the business.

Rhona wanted to know if he could see it as a satellite of his own gallery but with less fine art and more collectables, prints, glass and that sort of thing.

“I had considered that possibility. You were thinking of Anna for the café I suppose?”

“If she wants it. If you speak to Claus and can see it would complement your own gallery, then by all means talk on my behalf or yours- or both of us - whatever."

She had unlocked her car. Philip opened the door.  “I’m glad I ran into you. I do like it when clients are definite and refrain from dithering.”

She sniffed thinking: I’m not your client yet buddy, besides you’re not being entirely honest with me. A business partnership. That’s where you are heading. If not this gallery, then something else. My answer is still the same. 

She changed the subject, describing how the young photographer Al had been in touch with her. He was looking for advice on his exhibition at a place in Upper Queen St. She was enthusiastic about the opportunity to support a young talent. Philip’s response was luke-warm. “Your idealism is heart warming I must say.”

She engaged her seat belt noting the cynical voice of experience. “Not to worry, you know I will be advised by you- in these things at least.”

Philip laughed at the coy look she threw up at him as she drove away, but he was thinking how little he envied any of her advisors.

Rhona made it to Thursday of that week only slightly behind her project target. She told Aunt Grace she felt more like a machine than an artist, but received no sympathy. Rhona was amused to hear her advocate a protestant work ethic as the ground for creative expression.

By Friday morning, however, she was in overload. Philip was coming that evening to make his final selection. One canvass remained unfinished. She got up and organised to work, but after walking into her studio she went straight out again.

Gracie was awake and planning to be out for the day so Rhona decided she would go to see Al’s exhibition and come back to work in the afternoon. While she was changing there was a phone call. Bill Egan, of all people, wanted to see her today- off the 10.30 ferry. His voice was just the same. It had the same affect on her it always did and she had a good hunch what was on his agenda. It had to be faced, for Philip if not for herself. They agreed to meet at the Customs Coffee House at eleven.

Bill stood on the corner of Queen and Customs St. He saw Rhona come out of the train station and walk up to the lights at the intersection.  In an unhurried way she buttoned and belted her coat against the wind as she walked. As she came over the crossing he reached out to her and she, misinterpreting his movement, came forward to shake his hand as if it was a business meeting. At the coffee shop she introduced him to her friend, the manager. Bill caught a look pass between the two women that was obviously a code encrypted message. They were shown to a table out in the arcade.

Rhona kept the conversation general. He noticed she avoided answering his questions about herself or her circumstances. There were lots of subtle changes in her. For one thing she seemed pretty well off now, going by her appearance anyway. He watched the inside of her wrist being caressed by a wide Victorian chased silver bracelet. Focused on the place where a blue vein crossed the tendon, he realised with a shock that she didn’t cover her scars any more.

He decided to try a different tack. “Grace told me you had moved. She gave me your new number. I hope you didn’t mind.” He smiled, looking for the answering light in her eyes, but it didn’t come. She did tell him she was sharing a house until the end of the year. He already knew that. Grace had told him. It was hard work this small talk but he asked where she would go after that.

She shrugged. She hadn’t decided.

“You could live with me.” He saw immediately he had timed it badly. She was still looking at him but her eyes were clouded in a way he had never seen before.  Her voice was flat when she said “You will have to excuse me. I have another appointment shortly at the other end of Queen St.”

Bill offered to walk with her as far as Smith and Caughey’s. He joked about symptoms of retail withdrawal and she seemed to go back to being relaxed with him until he said “I always loved walking with you.”

She stopped in the middle of the footpath, stepping back from him. “Bill stop.” Her voice sounded so tired. “It was in the past. This is now and it is different. I won’t go back there.”

He was quietly insisted that he wanted to give it another try.

She spread her arms wide and dropped them to her sides, narrowly missing an elderly man passing beside her. “Look. You don’t even know me. I’m just a screen you’re projecting on to. I could be anyone. It would be hopeless – worse than hopeless.”

They stood at the crossing. When the buzzer went he commented in a joking way. “Old Grace said you would say no and I didn’t believe her.”

Rhona walked faster across the diagonal thinking how unbelievable he was.  Even after that ghastly business the other weekend he was still discussing her with Grace. He obviously couldn’t see what there was to get so het up about. It wouldn’t surprise her if he thought it was a compliment- that he was prepared to take her back.

Outside the Smith and Caughey’s menswear entrance she slowed down. “Take care. I guess I’ll see you at Grace’s opening.”

Bill walked on a couple of paces beside her, glancing at the window. Suddenly his arm snapped out and he held her back. “Hold on just a minute.” He was staring at the window display. The main backdrop was a huge panoramic photo in a landscape format. It was made to fit the whole height and width of the space. 

The picture was taken on the beach at Russell. There was a dinghy beached on the shingle. Beside it was a tattooed man, about forty, in a dinner suit. In his arms he held a woman as if he had just swept her from the boat. She was wearing a deep purple velvet evening dress. An ornate jeweled collar emphasised the plunging scalloped neckline. Her tousled curly red hair was caught up in a velvet ribbon and flew out around her as she gazed adoringly into the eyes of her rescuer.

In front of this panorama stood a clear Perspex T-shaped form, on which the dress was displayed artistically. The full train of the gown spread a purple stain across the floor. Beside it was an ivory show card with the legend “Life Begins at 40” in large black letters. In smaller type was the statement “Le Domino Noir, the Ultimate Collection. Exclusive in New Zealand to Smith and Caughey.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before she tugged away, but he held her fast, saying over her head “It’s just like before isn’t it? You can’t fake the look that guy has on his face lady, even with the war paint on. Do you call that “drawing from the life” too?”

“Let me go Bill. It’s just advertising for a dress.”

“The hell it is. Well, now I know how you earn your money it all starts to make sense.” He released her arm. “See you Rhona. I’m glad you rediscovered you’re true career.” He spun around and went in to the shop, leaving her standing there.

She stormed up Queen St, arriving breathless and still livid. Al was waiting for her and saw immediately something was wrong. She made a face and said it was ironic that the first picture she should see as she came in was his Folie Bergere. Smiling she told the other young guy there how much she wished all men were as sensitive as Al. Both boys had a laugh with her about it before they moved on to talk about their work. She stayed about an hour to share ideas with them, before heading home to finish her own.