A Conscious Choice

Walking through Albert Park each day, it is easy to observe the changing season. As the autumn equinox approaches we enter the season of last harvest. The ground in the oak grove is now coated with acorns. It is also the last quarter moon.

In all respects this is a time of consciously choosing to recognise what aspects of our lives are worth nurturing. What strengths do we cellar to see us through harder times ahead? What distortions of Self are best ploughed under before they taint the whole harvest?

Making these choices for ourselves allows others around us free to make their choices too. It is a time of gathering in to oneself, one's family and friends - going back to home base- and withdrawing from any outer activity that distracts our attention from all that is supportive and nourishing in our lives.

The reward comes in the store of wisdom laid down as we reflect on the experiences of the passing season and learn from them. Realising what our Truth is provides the seed of a greater Self -set to grow in the next turning of the Wheel.

Drawing from Life Chapter 18 continued

The week Rhona’s house sold at auction Philip rang to say Aunt Grace had agreed to his proposed schedule. The retrospective would be in September. They had discussed the hang and Grace had been enthusiastic about Rhona sharing the space. One piece representative of each decade of Grace’s career would be on display. Philip was making the final call on the selection. 

There was a clear assumption that Rhonaould go ahead.When he asked her to aim at completing ten canvasses by the end of August, she attempted to rein him in. It was a ludicrously ambitious target.

He assured her she could achieve it.  “It will launch you and you know it. You also know I want to do it for you so…”

Her gasp interrupted him in mid-sentence.  “Stop there Philip." Her tone was unusually directive.  "This conversation is too important to conduct over the telephone. Invite me for dinner please.”

That took him by surprise. She could tell by the way he said “I beg your pardon” in that constrained voice he used sometimes. Yet he recovered quickly. “You mean now I take it.”

Rhona took that as a positive sign. “I know you are not an impulsive person normally, and I know you don’t often have people to your home, but, yes, tonight please." She had her fingers crossed over the phone. " Ask me nicely and I may even bring dessert.” 

There was a pause neatly calculated to drive her to distraction.  “Would Madam care to join me for dinner, say 7.30 for 8?” 

“Perfect." She returned in similar style. "Semi-formal I assume?”

Rhona arrived in her favourite pale lilac pants suit, a gift from Justin. She smiled to see Philip notice her appearance when he opened the door. He was looking boyish and apprehensive, but presenting to good advantage in a crisp blue linen shirt and soft grey pleated pants. He made a show of consulting his vintage Rolex. “7.32pm. I knew you were punctual, but this precision has disturbing undertones of fixation Rhona. Do come in.”

“Oh thank you”, she gave him a bright wide-eyed smile as she handed over her offerings.

“Item 1: a chocolate mousse thing for dessert.” She passed him the platter. “Item 2: a happy thought”. She put a box into his other hand. “Aunt Grace tells me you are always cutting into her supplies. I hope these ones are satisfactory mein host.” He cast an appreciative eye over the liqueur chocolates as he stood back for her to precede him.

“I am sufficiently appeased. Veer left to the reception area.”

They ate marsala chicken together that night. Sitting with her in the lounge afterwards Philip at last raised the subject of their earlier telephone conversation, asking why she needed to see him so urgently. Her reply was rather cryptic. “Because I can’t see you on the telephone and you had started to say something important.”

He was gazing at her as she sat across from him. There was a coffee table between them, yet he was more aware of her proximity now than he had been at the dining table.

“Remind me will you. Something about Grace’s work?” It was a feint. He had just recalled that he had said something rash to her earlier. It was a tribute to her understanding that she had seized on it. Not that it helped him at all.

Rhona sat forward. “Not that. You are playing with me.”

He acknowledged the touch of her foil by raising his glass. “Touche! All right. I mentioned I want you to succeed. What is so alarming about that statement?”

Rhona had begun to twist her jacket sleeve. “I wanted to see your face when you said it.”

“Why?” His tone was more gentle than his face appeared.

“I’ve explained. So I could see your feelings.”

There was a pause before Philip stood and went to the French doors and wide windows at the end of the room. He extended one arm outstretched to the door frame and leaned on it looking out at the view of the harbour. Without turning he said “I am assuming you haven’t come to seduce me.” His tone pretended to humour.

She stayed seated and signalled her dismissal of that remark with a wave of her hand in his direction. “Of course I haven’t.” She muttered something about him keeping a mistress. Trust her to intuit the case, he thought. She wasn’t far off the mark, as it happened. She knew it too and told him sharply she was not interested in upsetting his private arrangements. That was unnecessarily crude, he thought. It annoyed him to be put on the spot in this way.

He dropped his arm from the frame. He was as close to angry as she had ever seen him “Why are you playing with me like this?”

Rhona stood up and came over to him. “I’m not playing. Why are you going to such lengths to help me Philip? I want to know what you expect or hope from me in return.”

He tried not to look at her. She was glorious with that indignant flash in her eyes, so tiny but filling the room with her character. He sighed and leaned his back against the window. She would not be satisfied until she had cut through his defences. He saw that. “When I first met you, people told me you were naïve. Did you know that? It never was naivety was it?"

She held his gaze, yet his baited observation failed to raise a bite from her. He pushed on. "Just recently I realised that you operate from a different set of values to the rest of us. You are not so much amoral as extra-moral.” He paused, “You are a most unusual woman.”

Rhona shrugged self consciously. She went out though the French doors and stood, bracing herself on the balcony. It reminded Philip of a drawing he had seen hanging in Bill’s work room. He resisted the impulse to go to her and spin her around.  He had gone too far already. She roused herself saying “Anyway” as she returned inside to her place on the sofa. “We stray from the subject.”

He took his time coming to sit beside her. He wanted to be sure of himself. With a light touch he put his hand along her chin. "If I put it into words I risk losing one or both of my dearest friends. You are right. I am making a gesture- but it’s a gift.” He looked a challenge at her. “Besides, Joe Davis also tells me you are also a very good friend of his.” 

Her face lit up in a wide childish grin, which forced an answering smile from him. “Don’t be so precious Philip. What sort of society is it that says I can have as many women friends as I choose, but I may not relate to more than one man at a time?” She drew breath to go on but he held up his hand for mercy.

“Stop. I understand. To a point I applaud, but I wonder if you have considered biology. It may be that the male of the species is wired for possession- exclusive possession at that.”  To goad her, and perhaps himself, he added “Someone like Bill would not understand the meaning of a platonic relationship.” He saw the hurt on her face and reached over to push a curl back from her eyes. “I have watched you from the first time you came into my gallery. I know the kind of connection you are looking for. What if I can’t give you that… single breath on a single skin.  Do I end up with consolation membership of your Platonic Love Club?”

They were staring at each other now. She scraped her hands through her hair. “Do you mean you can’t give it or you won’t give it?”

Philip controlled his voice as best he could. “You know it is “won’t.” You must also know I can’t because Bill Egan is my friend.”

“But Philip when you talk to me like this I want…”

He sprang quickly to his feet. “Don’t tell me what you want Rhona. You have already told me more than I wanted to hear. Trust me.”

She nodded and stood up too.“I had better go home.”

The little crooked smile she gave him was so comical, it made him smile with her. “Are we taking ourselves too seriously?”

She turned away to look for her keys “Unforgivably so. Show me out please.”