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[av_heading heading=’MY LIFE AS ART | Understanding the center of the universe’ tag=’h3′ style=’blockquote modern-quote’ size=” subheading_active=’subheading_below’ subheading_size=’15’ padding=’10’ color=” custom_font=”]
BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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Monday, June 26, 2017
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I’m not going to lie to you. I like attention.
I like being the center of attention. Being the center of the universe.
I have a great need for love and attention. I like to be loved.
If you can’t love me, if you can’t adore me, if you can’t appreciate me, I’ll probably don’t want to have anything to do with you.
***
Sure, I’ll probably save your life even if you don’t like me. I might even feed you even if I don’t like it. But that’s just the extra mile I’ll walk. Pogi points for the Lord.
If you want to see the best in me, the best of me, you got to love me.
Because I love most those who love me. I want to take care first those who like me.
Sure, it’s more heroic to love those who don’t love you. To care for those who don’t care for you. But that was the job of Jesus Christ, wasn’t it?
Me? I’m more human. Most of the time, I only love those who love me.
***
Sure, sometimes, I go the distance. I reach out to stupid people who don’t adore me. I even reach out to haters. Do them good. Make them realize I am better than they are.
Make them see I’m really a nice person. Giving and forgiving. Soft like a bathroom tissue. Full of Christian goodness.
But that is so much work. It uses a lot of my energy. Energy that I sometimes think is better spent loving more people who love me.
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I’m not Jesus Christ. I don’t have God’s full capacity to love. God has full bars. I only got 95% battery power.
To love just one enemy uses 20 percent of my energy. To love a friend, one percent. To love a crazy, needy friend, maybe three percent.
To love a fan, two percent. To love an obsessed lover, 10 percent.
To love my own object of desire, 15 percent. Okay, maybe 35 percent, if we are getting serious.
To love God, and this is just to put things into perspective, zero percent. I love God, easy. No need to expend energy to love a God who loves me unconditionally.
***
So, you do the maths. Should I try to love one enemy, or keep cultivating twenty friends instead? Love two enemies and sixty friends, or please one hundred people instead?
20 percent to keep your enemies closer. Is it worth it? No, but I do it occasionally.
Usually though, I just surround myself with friends. 100 friends for my 100 percent. It makes me happy. I make them happy. That’s 101 happy people in the world.
Well, 10,001 happy people in the world. Or 19,001. But you get the picture.
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Now, here’s the deal. I know I said I have a great need to be loved. But that’s not the whole picture. The missing half of the picture is that I also have a great need to love. To give love.
I feel I have so much love to give. So much talent and joy to share.
I cannot keep the 100 percent love and life energy in me. That is the real selfishness. And I’m not that kind of selfish.
I like attention, but I don’t hog the life force. I want to spend and give my love and life energy. I like to give it to people. To share it. Make other people’s lives better. Make them happy. Make them feel loved.
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I’m only selfish in the sense that I want to love first those who love me. But you already did the maths.
If my family accuses me, if at all, of being selfish, they only mean that I don’t give them what they want from me. That I don’t give them my money. That I don’t indulge their vices and materialistic needs.
They also mean that I don’t let them abuse me. That I don’t make them financially dependent on me.
If my brother decides not to work, and be a bum at 40, I don’t want to take care of his family. I won’t give him my money. He can call me a selfish bastard. And I’ll take that.
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Who is my family? I’ll quote Jesus (or is this a paraphrase?): “They who listen to me, and do what I say, are my mother and brothers and sisters.”
So, to my brothers and sisters, I say: Get a job! Plan your family. Live according to your means. Budget your income. Save for your health needs. Be responsible for your needs. Don’t rely on my help. Grow up!
Most of all, I tell them: Love me. Talk to me at all times, not just in your hour of need. Don’t make me feel like a bank you just remember when you need a loan. Tell me when you win the lotto. Brotherhood/sisterhood is a two-way street.
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I’ve been accused of being nicer to friends just because I lend or give my friends money. And only very seldom do I do it with my family.
I admit to it. I cannot lie. But my friends talk to me more than my family talks to me!
My friends celebrate my genius and talents. And they are quick to praise me. All the time. They are good for my ego.
My family only remembers my ugliness in my teens. And that was three decades ago! I have changed. They have changed. I have changed for the better.
I’m a better person now. And all they see is the brother who didn’t want them to be dependent on anyone. The smart brother who wouldn’t do their homework for them.
I even think my family has forgotten I also needed loving.
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Sure, they got used to me getting awards and accolades every so often. But is it enough reason not to make me know they know what I have achieved? Is it too hard to congratulate me every so often? Why couldn’t they praise me? Why are they stingy with affection and attention? If my friends can, why can’t they?
So, tell me. Who is more family to me? Especially when you define family as the people who celebrate who you are, and what you have become. As the people who make you comfortable and safe. The people who inspire you to do more, and be better than the awesome person that you are.
***
Who is my family? My readers, my fans, my social media followers, my public. That is my family for me. I love them, they love me. We are a happy family. (Shut up, Barney!)
Why spend 30 percent loving an errant brother (who will not be content with 30 percent anyway), if I can have 30 friends, and be happy loving 30 others instead? (500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)
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