My maid recently completed this “Welcome” rug. It was made out of a rice sack and scraps cut into squares, painstakingly sewn individually onto the sack. When I asked her why she did it, she said she wanted to do something productive when she hadn’t any housework to do.
I also finished something that required a similar amount of effort. It’s a cross-stitch portrait of my sister, her husband and their son, Aidan. I started in February, and only finished now. ('Now' is really December 2008. I conceptualised the idea in February, started work in April and finished in December.)
There were many reasons why I decided to embark on this. On a very superficial level, I’ve always wanted to immortalise a realistic scene in cross-stitch. It’s like this photography-pointillism-craft hybrid, which satisfies some of my interests in a quirky package.
But the deeper reason is this: it was an exercise in conscious love. Not too long ago, a friend asked me for somebody else’s number. When I asked why she needs it, she said: “It’s her birthday today, and I want to wish her happy birthday.”
Surprised, I responded: “I thought you didn’t even like her.”
“I don’t have a very good impression of her, but it’s nice to be wished anyway.
“Isn’t that hypocritical of you?”
“Hmm, even if I don’t really like her all that much, wishing her happy birthday wasn’t based on how well I think of her. Rather, because I know that anyone would appreciate a birthday greeting.”
I didn’t get it at first. If you don’t like someone, why would you even care to make that person happy? If I dislike someone, her welfare would no longer be a subset of my self-interests, so I couldn’t care less about wishing her happy birthday. Hmm, my altruistic actions probably have always been merely pseudo-altruistic.
It might be genuine altruism, I suppose, because being nice to an enemy doesn’t bring any benefit to you. Perhaps we should explore the definition of hypocritical. According to my Longman dictionary, it means “behaving in a way that is different from what you claim to believe”. Strictly speaking, disliking someone doesn’t necessitate ill-treatment or the lack of positive treatment. Therefore—logically—there wasn’t any direct conflict of interest when she wished someone she didn’t like happy birthday.
I don’t quite understand, though. If you dislike someone, how can you bring yourself to be nice to them? Isn’t the direct behavioural consequence of disliking someone to be mean to them, or at the very best be apathetic? Perhaps I have a very deep-seated tendency for being vengeful. Or perhaps I’m just unable to comprehend the nature of altruistic gestures. It really sucks, this whole altruistic thing. If I wanted to be nice, why can’t it be easy? Why can’t I WANT to be nice? But no, the nicest things are perceived as nicest only when it’s done against my wishes.
There were over ten thousand stitches in this one. Every single stitch was a constant reminder to self that love is a conscious effort, whether I like it or not. Even if I still don’t know how to love consciously, perhaps it would have somehow drilled itself into my psyche when I forced myself to continue stitching even when there were times when I was at odds with my sister and really didn’t feel like it. I guess relationships aren’t based on what I “feel like”, or not.
Lesson reinforced? Relationships don’t make any economic sense at all. (root of economics: maximise self-interest.)
Postscript: The cross-stitch portrait has been framed and hung on the wall of my sister's kitchen ever since.
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