Happy Birthday Mom! A tribute to my Mother. My Mother. When I was a young Mom could really “bug” me. Wanting to know more about the world I would ask her zillions upon zillions of questions, trying to use her experience and knowledge as a way for me to safely take measure of the world. As many children do, I thought that life, if you thought about it, was straightforward, logical and pretty easy to understand. For instance, I would ask, “Mom, what’s your favorite color?” She patiently explained that she didn’t have a favorite color, all were equally important in the world.This puzzled me, after all it was a “simple” question, “blue” was no doubt my favorite color and I would have been happier if she joined me on the “blue team.” Unable to understand the larger meaning behind her reply, I happily painted my room blue, wore blue jeans when ever possible and felt the injustice of the world because my birthstone was turquoise! Years later while teaching a beginning painting class, Mom would tell us to limit our color palette, this confused me, it seemed contradictory, and possibly revealed a hidden bias. At that point I had grown to love every color (except turquoise) and wanted to enthusiastically dive into the vast sea of color possibilities. As a dutiful child I held back and followed her advice. Oddly, it helped, it was easier to paint that way and the outcome was much more satisfying. When I followed her instructions, there was less chance of creating a muddy, God-awful, mess! Later she explained, when you learn how to structure a painting, understanding how lights and darks make a composition, you will add new colors to your palette. At that point you will be making informed, conscious decisions, your results will be more intentional and the work more successful. She was right! I never became a great painter, but this philosophical lesson has become a metaphor for life. It’s simple really, “all things have value in this world, for what is “black without white, what is day without night, what is right without wrong, and what is good without bad?” I see now that this early lesson about color was symbolic, referring to race, class, language, gender and religion, (not to mention an introduction to the practice of self discipline).The painting class as well as many other experiences with her helped me realize the complexity of life and hinted at what could be lost if I tried to draw hasty conclusions, categorize too quickly, or simplify the issues one encounters in life. I now realize that Mom ran her own philosophy school, stressing mostly Eastern values and ideas. Politically, she was an optimistic liberal with strong socialist tendencies. She never valued organized religion but chose to live a moral life based on what she had read, learned through experience and consciously chose. Although she may not have described it this way, she lived and practiced many Buddhist tenets, emphasizing tolerance, and identifying desire and ignorance as the root of human suffering. She encouraged Ghandi’s (and the Beatles), emphasis on idealism, lessons of nonviolence and peaceful disobedience. Also like Ghandi, and although she may have been more suited to the intellectual rigors of the city, she taught an appreciation for the earth and the dignity, purity and integrity of rural life. A woman before her time, she was aware of the inherent danger of overly processed foods, feeding us health food before it was fashionable. Every evening, attendance optional, she diligently ran her health food cooking school, stressing intention, quality ingredients and the wisdom of following a recipe, at least until you had the knowledge and appropriate skills to alter it. I could go on and on about the merits, intricacy and subtlety of Mom’s philosophy, it was obvious that she spent years thinking about and planning her parental strategies. Like the fine wine and cheese that she enjoyed, her style appreciates over time. If she were here today, I think she would be proud that there is hardly a day when her philosophy, if not her methods are realized in my own thoughts and actions. Thank you Mom, I wish you were always here to “bug” me.
Posted on: Sat, 22 Jun 2013 02:39:11 +0000
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