You Get What You Deserve — 28 May 2016
To my relief, my friend the air-conditioning man, Ah Huat, came around with his usual big smile again yesterday when I dropped by his shop. It took two days for him to thaw out his anger, and I felt that my patience with his temperament had paid off. It's difficult to carve out true friendship, but a whole lot easier to lose one. I’ve learned, through many past failed friendships, what it takes: get my ego out of the equation, and his will step aside too. That’s the long and short of it.
We’re now back on track. He wants to make fast money, and I’m there to help him get it done—but always in the spirit of relaxation and play, never forced labor.
Last evening (Friday), I was supposed to give an art talk. It was meant to be in conjunction with UNESCO Day, with the theme Art Education as a Lifetime Education. I was invited by the Director of MGTF-USM, who couldn't attend due to other commitments. I was apprehensive for days, wondering what to say, what to wear, and how to deal with the parking situation. When the moment came, it turned out the two other speakers didn’t show up, and only six people made up the audience—a mother and her two children, a friend of theirs, and two women who were organizing the event.
Strangely, I wasn’t disappointed at all. In fact, I had the best time. For two full hours, I spoke freely with these kind, curious Chinese ladies. It was intimate and sincere. I felt completely unfiltered, as though I could finally speak my truth. I wouldn't have had that freedom with a larger crowd.
By the end of the day, I realized I’d received yet another quiet lesson: show up, be present, and drop all expectations. The talk became a way for me to listen to myself, to understand who I am and what I truly believe about Art and Education. It allowed me to reconcile the lingering pain of negative experiences in education with the profound healing power that art has brought into my life.
As much as I desire to make money like the next guy, Art has always been secondary to income. Throughout my life, I’ve held more than thirty jobs—some for only a few days, the longest lasting six years. I’ve worked for free more times than I can count, simply for the experience. I love to volunteer, as long as I can do it my own way. I like to work while playing, and play while working—odd, perhaps, but it's who I am.
I’ve begged, borrowed, and yes, even stolen. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve managed to stay afloat—like a cork drifting downriver, never stuck for long. I’m not good at saving, and I spend what I earn as it comes. Often, I share it with those I feel are in greater need, as though I’m a rich man. Sometimes I go weeks without a cent to my name—just to see how I’ll manage. Other times, abundance appears unannounced, like grace, and I’m left wondering if it was ever really mine to begin with.
I’ve never envied those who have made it big financially—only felt respect for their discipline. I treat having and not having money as a spiritual practice in attachment and detachment. I can say yes or no to what I desire, then sit back and observe how the Universe responds. Time and again, I receive just enough—no more, no less than what I truly need.
You get what you deserve—not what you want, not what you fear—just what you are ready to receive.
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