Chambers of our lives

“300 roses” is what I was told it would take to practice before I’d be able to paint a good rose. This was in the days when folk art was the craft phase of choice and the person who told me was my teacher. I was quite lunatic about this phase and would shift my stuff to the laundry when the table was needed for dinner and dash between kitchen and laundry to keep working on my projects in between the stages of cooking dinner. Pretty sure there were some burnt chops in that season of life.

I don’t know if it was the mention of 300, or quite what it was that propelled me but I’d go to bed at night practising the two coloured dip, blend and wriggle of each petal – over and over and over till I slept. I did get good at roses. And I recon it took less than 300, but probably due to that closed-eye practice in the night where if you could have seen me, you’d have seen my hand lifted, holding my imaginary brush and moving in the dark.

I practiced in the light as well. On paper, wood, china, metal, ostritch eggs (true story) and pretty well any surface where I thought I’d get away with it. Till I probably could have actually painted roses with my eyes shut.

In the year that followed I taught folk art at the local church craft group while managing to bounce a baby boy (Lachy) on my left leg keeping his hands away from the interest of the table before him with my left hand – while somehow stilling the right side of my body enough to keep painting.

I think I nearly sent my husband balmy in this phase. It was shortly thereafter that I decided I needed to rein it in… not just the painting but the way I totally gave myself over to whatever creative endeavour was my current thing as the cost to the family in terms of my time was too great.

The road to ‘balance’ is fraught with learning curves.

But the seasons of life have continued to rotate. Actually ‘rotate’ isn’t the right word because new things come with every season. They don’t just go round and round – the seasons spiral on to ever new places and depths which is why I LOVE images of DNA – and the whole Fibonacci/Golden spiral thing so much (the nautilus being a perfect example) – Life does continue to rotate – but always forwards – always building – for as long as there is life at all.

“When a nautilus first hatches, it has a shell with seven chambers. As it gets larger, it will add new chambers to its shell. Each new chamber will be a little larger than the last, allowing the opening of the shell to continually grow bigger. Each chamber is individually sealed and contains an amount of gas creating buoyancy. The nautilus can regulate its density by injecting or removing fluid into these chambers through a system of tubes”.

I wonder what new chambers will be added to our lives in the coming year… and in the coming season… I wonder how we’ll each need to adapt to stay afloat and growing… as individuals, families and communities… I love the living object lesson that the past chambers of our lives can provide the wisdom, back-up and balance to continued growth…

New things, old things, repeated things.

Practice. Skill. Challenge.

Time, rush, stillness.

Sorrow, love, hope.

Sickness, health, commitment.

Ever forwards. Same but different.


Photo credit: David Millard. And no, my painted roses look nothing like that!