Divine Proportion

The mathematical principle of Phi is: The whole is to the larger in exactly the same proportion as the larger is to the smaller. Phi, also known as the Divine Proportion, can be identified in a pattern of numbers that increases by adding the two previous numbers.

In writing, this all seems so esoteric, so difficult for math-challenged people (such as myself) to understand. However, if you look at a spiral-shaped Chambered Nautilus shell, the principle becomes visible. This miracle is comprised of gently curving, pearly spaces, each created by the homely organism that once inhabited the shell. Beginning with the miniscule chamber in the center of the spiral, you can trace each consecutive chamber, each created as the organism outgrew the last, each slightly larger than the one before. Each one precisely follows the rule of Phi.

As a mother, I have watched my 19-month-old daughter, Claire grow and change with each passing day. When Claire was 10 days old (and I was crazed by rapidly shifting, postpartum hormonal levels), I remember wailing, "She's 10 days old already, and I've missed it!" My mother, bewildered, reminded me, "But Annah, you've been here!" I had been trying to express my longing for Claire to remain a newborn forever. At the same time, I looked forward to knowing her as a child, teenager and adult. I suppose every mother wants to have her cake and eat it too.

I mourn each time I fold and box clothes Claire has outgrown, placing them in the attic, much as the Nautilus sheds its shell. New chambers are created as my husband and I buy 12-month clothing, 18-month clothing, 24-month clothing. Likewise, as Claire's mind develops, I miss the days in which she would stare, fascinated, at ceiling fans and lamplight. Now, I rejoice to hear her learning to say "sock" and "ball". I loved her when she was the passive recipient of affection, but love even more her toddler kisses and spontaneous "hit-and-run" hugs. Her wise-beyond-her-years newborn gazes have given way to myriad expressions from joy and delight to "uh-oh-tantrum-coming". Her bobble-headed attempts to sit up have been replaced by running, dancing and twirling. Each day I lose her. Each day I gain her.

But how can one measure the development of a tiny, precious soul? Add the last two numbers? Measure it with a tape measure? This mystery is beyond all science, all mathematics. It is certainly beyond me. Perhaps this is what Oliver Wendell Holmes recognized when he wrote the last stanza of his poem, The Chambered Nautilus:

"Build the more stately mansions, O my Soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!"

What a privilege to watch this spark of divinity unfold.