A Great Artist has Passed

Art is our heritage, we came as creators, and that is all that we are. Our lives are the pictures we paint, the songs we compose, the books we write. None of us can pretend any otherwise. The lowliest of the lost, the grandest of the known, all are busy about the joys and sorrows of creating. If we all could only see it as so, then maybe we would be more inspired to get it right, to know that it mattered, to know that each one of us matters just as much as the next. It is not about creating security or wealth, and that should not be the rule by which we measure each other or ourselves. Richness is a thing of the spirit.

A good friend of my son's just set himself on fire inside his locked car. I didn't know him personally, but my son says he was a hard worker and one of the best car salesman in the business, and a loving father. I have met him a couple of times, and he was a beautiful, gorgeous man, who radiated kindness. My son says there were over 250 people at his memorial gathering. All who write of him or talk of him tell of his magical personality and how he lit up any room he was in. Brad Burnett was a truly great artist, and created a beautiful picture, of which I am sure he is so thrilled to be aware of now, as he rests safely in the loving and all-forgiving hands of the Creative Force of the Universe. I hope his loved ones can take solace in this.

In Bhutan, they have a Minister of Happiness who cares for all citizens and their individual states of mind, so Michael Fox tells us. Denmark is known as one of the happiest countries, because they don't expect any thing like the American Dream. They ask for little, just some life comforts, and so they are satisfied with just that. They are happy! Wouldn't it be grand for all of us to remind each other often of how wonderful each and every one of us is? Virtue attaineth, and nothing else attains anything at all. We may make mistakes to find the raw stuff of virtue, but even those mistakes have major virtue in that they are valuable stepping stones, the darker rich hues of the pictures we paint with our lives.