Last night there was memorial service for my dear mother, Adele.

Many had turned out to pay their respects. Those who felt compelled, stood at the podium and spoke about Adele and what she meant to them.

We are, after all, the sum total of our memories.

As I was recalling an experience or two about her, and the legacy of lessons she had taught me, I had a further realization within a context.

Adele’s compassion was boundless for all living things. When she spoke with you, you had her full attention in the present moment. She was focused on you, not what she had to do later, or even distracted by the severe pain that she endured. She encouraged the best in everyone. She was grateful. She was a loving doer and a giver.

Her intuitive sense was strong, as it always revealed the heart of the matter. She had no hidden agendas; she said what she meant.

When I look at these superb qualities of character now, clearly my mother was a Zen master in the most profound sense, without a need for labels, ritual, or rote.

Adele Richter: 1926-2008

Today, my mother passed on from this life after nearly two grueling years of fighting cancer. She fought bravely, endured the agony of the disease as well as debilitating side effects of the treatments. In the end, nature took its inevitable course—and now, no more pain for dear Adele.

Everyone has a mother, yet not all mothers are created equal. Overcoming many hardships and suffering in her life, she persevered as a loving, generous person who possessed ample compassion for the whole world. She inspired her children and all whom she met with a positive outlook—you can accomplish your heart’s desire. Adele was a poet in her soul, which is the source of my ever-evolving intuition. She was a wise spirit, feisty, and young at heart. You can read some of her poetry on this site; see the main dropdown menu in the upper left.

To see a truth, a lesson one can use in the most dire of experiences demands self-discipline. My mother’s mortal demise from this world challenges my philosophy, my own purpose for being, my dharma. Do my words, my art, my character, my experience with faith borne of proof hold up to this unflinching mirror of death? Am I living an authentic life?

These are, after all, the tests. 

Something of quality is forever good, regardless of time, trends, fashion, or wavering tastes. We easily become desensitized to shock art over time, but never to art from the soul—which doesn’t become obsolete regardless of art movements or labels.

As the maelstrom of opposing views tears at the fabric of society, you must remain steadfast and clear (this doesn’t imply the false god of perfection) to make it. You must do the introspective work now; no one can do it for you; and as an artist, you wouldnt have it any other way.

Needs aren’t frivolous desires or nonessential wants. Buddha and Abraham Maslow made that clear.

As Bucky Fuller had also observed: “There is no Energy Shortage. There is no Energy Crisis. There is a Crisis of Ignorance.”

Here’s a repost from my archives worth noting again:

It was yesterday in the late afternoon when I heard a rustling sound near one of the windows on my left. I was at my computer working on a project.

I heard bird chirping and fluttering, then the commotion stopped. At first, I thought it was my two cockatiels but they were asleep. A few moments later, more chirping. I went to the window. Nothing. Then, I looked down on the outside sill.

A fledgling had landed there somehow from one of the nearby trees. More chirping, calling out to its mother. Not wanting to interfere, I went back to my work.

In a while, dusk had settled in.

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Many have heard or read an ad promising to teach a new language in a short amount of time; some offer no memorization lessons or boring drills, or trying to recall by tedious rote. I doubt those exposed to such ads question that it does take concentrated work to learn the language of their choice.

When it comes to art, we have a similar scenario. It demands dedication to learn, absorb, and comprehend the language of a particular artist. If you don’t make the effort, then how would you ever know whether you are looking at art of substance, or cotton candy? If you rely on the experts to form your opinion, you will have missed the aesthetic experience, which happens one soul at a time.