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If you’re as lucky as me, you’ll have, or you’ll have had this fantastic relative (grandpa, an aunt or uncle maybe) who takes care of you in an almost frenzied manner. A sort of die-hard fan of yours obsessed with you eating that one more chocolate, or having that one more book or toy or clothes you want. Their eyes sparkle with the determination of a supernatural command, and pity those who try to interfere!
In case you are not as lucky as me, I’m sure you still know some people in this situation, or at least you can imagine what it feels like, especially when you are a child. When this kind of beloved and generous persons pass away, part of the grief we suffer is due to the fact that, with them, we are losing a part of ourselves. But, among the things they leave to us, there is an uncommon lesson that is very important and worthwhile to keep: unconditional love towards ourselves.
The German humanist and social psychologist Erich Fromm233 once remarked that, for some reason, the care of oneself has become in our days somewhat “suspicious”. Allegedly, we are living in a society obsessed with pleasure and instant gratification, but the fact is that the ghost of guilt lurks behind every instant that we devote to ourselves; we live divided. It always seems as if we needed some sort of “alibi” every time we want to take care of ourselves.
For example, it is well looked upon to take care of oneself as long as you spend big money in the process; it conveys a positive meaning of social status, in addition, sometimes, to a base, primary ‘in yer face’ satisfaction (“I can afford yachting and you don’t, ha!”). But, when we examine those gratifications closer, we found that, in fact, they are intended to gratify other people, or our self image in relation to other people, but not our own private needs.
Ordinary human life does not take place in yachts and, in the case of cheap, simpler, everyday life, the acceptable standards for self gratification seem to be much poorer. There is always a sort of continuous misconception between “what a man can take” (which is almost anything, that is our blessing and our curse), and “what a man must take” (which should always be much less). What I mean here is that I don’t believe in life as some kind of weightlifting contest, where you always try to break someone else’s record. I don’t see it that way. I agree that competition, to a certain degree, can be healthy, but not when it reaches the degree of addiction.
So I try to take my relative’s lesson very seriously, and you should, too. For example, when I get home, my arrival protocol always includes “eating something nice”, and I am very emphatic, grandpa-like emphatic, that I am not really back from the streets (which very often means I am feeling stressed, tired, dirty, annoyed, miserable, etc) until I have had something nice to eat, or, if I am not really hungry, at least a simple, symbolic thing granted to myself in an attitude of gift. “Gee, what a day, honey, isn’t it? Go clean your hands. Come on, it’ll make you feel better. Now have something to eat. Trust me, you do need it”. It’s not like going to Disneyland, I agree, but, before I adopted this habit, I was bound to dive right away into more really-busy-stuff. That’s alright, honey. But not that fast. Have that chocolate first.
“Love your neighbor as yourself”, says the Christian maxim. In our hurried times, sadly, I’m afraid we often skip the second part. And it is not a trivial issue because you cannot be useful to others before you have made the arrangements with yourself. You cannot give a lift to anybody before you have your car fixed!
What are your favourite reminders to take care of yourself? How do you deal with self-induced or “environmental” guilt? Do you have that gorgeous relative?
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