Me (2 page)

During this time I have learned that it is useless to label things as either good or bad. The key is to see everything as a lesson. Good and bad alike are both part of a whole, and we have to embrace that whole to reach the complete existence we long for. We advance on certain paths where opportunities come our way, and every step not only gets us closer to where we want to go but also has a reason for being. Life gives us experiences, and every decision we make determines where we will be later.

From the day we are born until the day we die, we progress on a path of learning, in which every decision we make or fail to make becomes a part of our personal growth. There is this karmic realm where you have to pass through the challenges that life gives you to liberate yourself from that which weighs you down, preventing you from reaching divinity. We all progress down a spiritual path that offers us opportunities to learn—and even tragedy has its meaning. When you’re a student, you have to study the lesson until you know it by heart, and if you don’t know it, you don’t graduate. In the same way, life presents us with experience after experience, and with every deed, decision, and selection we are determining where we will end up. And just like in school, whoever pays the closest attention will most quickly move ahead.

Someone once asked me if I thought my accomplishments were always in my destiny. The answer was yes, and no. Granted, I do believe that a lot of what has happened to me has helped shape my destiny, but there is no doubt that I have come to where I am, and accomplished what I have, because I worked hard to get it. If anything is true in this world it is that destiny is something you have to help. If I had not done my own part, I would have never come to where I am now. At no point did I sit down and wait for destiny to show up on my doorstep. I went out and looked for it and knocked on its door instead. I think that the people who sit around and wait for their destiny to land in their laps will probably get old waiting.

I have worked intensely to arrive at this point, which is why I know it has not been a coincidence or a simple act of randomness. It is true that I have had a lot of luck—or a lot of what we call luck. But the truth is that everyone creates his own luck and his own destiny. When life presents you with a river, you cannot rely on luck to supply a boat; you have to dive into the water and swim. Stroke after stroke, you have to reach the other side. You have to create the course of your own destiny and not let chance determine your direction. I fully believe that luck comes to those who have worked hard to find it.

Life is a journey and every step we take moves us in some direction. When we are ready and willing, we learn, we advance, and we grow. But it’s very easy—and very common—to not take that first step and to stay exactly where we are, because after all, that which is familiar is usually the most comfortable. I think that for a great part of my life I was so comfortable I did not feel the need to look inward, even for the sake of asking myself some basic questions—never mind finding the answers. I felt bad. I knew there was something fundamentally wrong inside, but instead of trying to heal these contradictory feelings that nagged at me, I simply buried them with the hope that they would disappear forever. I was afraid and I was much more concerned with being accepted and being liked than with the cultivation of my own personal growth.

The long road to finally come face-to-face with myself has not been easy. And though I’ve grown and learned a lot, it is a road I continue to tread upon every day of my life. I needed many years of silence and reflection to understand what it is I truly carry in my heart. Before I could tell my truth to the world, I had to come to a moment when I would find inner acceptance and tranquillity.

Life takes lots of twists and turns, but today I have the absolute certainty that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it is hard to see it when you are the one going through it, but based on my own life, I can say that everything happens because that is the way it has to be. Life’s lessons are like a series of closed doors: Upon gaining the insight and learning the relevant lesson, one door closes and another one opens, and you continue your journey. Every phase of my life has brought along valuable and important things; it does not matter how much it has cost me or how difficult it’s been. My experiences with Menudo, for example, gave me a work ethic and a sense of discipline that perhaps back then I did not realize would be so crucial in my future. Later, after the chaos of “Livin’ La Vida Loca” subsided, I had finally learned about the importance of knowing when to say no. When I went to India, I learned about what it means to turn my gaze inward and know myself. As a new father (and like all fathers before me), I have only recently learned the true significance of unconditional love. And when I finally found the courage to reveal my truth to the world, I not only understood the meaning of living without fear, but I finally understood that fear is truly all in our heads.

As I wrote this book I went through so many moments when I felt completely vulnerable. But at the same time there were other moments when I felt excited, free, and happy to at last let go of my past. It has been an intense process of catharsis that has helped me to heal many wounds and understand many things that perhaps back then did not seem to make sense. Now I see things more clearly, and for that I am grateful.

Now I am complete.

Now I am ready to give myself exactly as I am—to my public, to my family, to my friends and my relationships. I want my children to be able to read this book one day and understand the spiritual journey I had to experience to be able to accept the joy of being their father. I want to open my heart to them fully and absolutely so that in the future they will never be afraid to do the same.

I wrote this book with my heart on my sleeve. But before I continue, I want to clarify that just because I have chosen to talk about my own life does not mean I will talk about the lives of others. Everyone has a right to their privacy and discretion, which is why I have decided to protect the real names and characteristics of certain people. Even though there are some people who have formed part of my public life, and who are likely easily recognizable, I won’t involve them in this history that is not theirs. Just as I have asked for my right to privacy on so many occasions, I must respect others’ rights to theirs. This is my life, my personal trajectory, and I have decided to tell it because today I am ready to do it. But I don’t plan to let my decision affect anyone else.

From the moment I clicked SEND to announce my truth to the world, the rain of love that I’ve received has been astounding, almost startling. It has shown me clearly that the fear I felt before existed only in my head—as does all fear. Life is so much more beautiful when you live it with open arms, your guard dropped, and without anxieties or secrets. Today, more than ever, I know that this is my moment, and that, just as the master Gandhi says it, I have the strength to live a life filled with love, peace, and truth.

IT IS FASCINATING FOR ME TO SIT AND LOOK BACK AT THE
road I have traveled to get to where I am now—not only in my career, but in my personal life as well. What has at times felt incomprehensible or excessively difficult, today I understand as something that had to happen. All my experiences have prepared me for what was—and still is—ahead of me. At first it was a difficult concept for me to grasp, but once I was able to internalize it, I got to a point where I could live a more complete and satisfactory life because I am willing to accept that the good, the bad, and the not so great are all part of a whole. This feeling has liberated me in so many ways and given me the strength to confront everything that comes my way. It is extraordinary to think that without knowing it, from very early on, I was already building my identity, my very own story.

IT ALL BEGAN with a spoon.

Anybody in my family will tell you that music came into my life at a very young age. My mother’s side of the family has always been musically inclined. On Sunday afternoons we would get together at my grandparents’ house, and sooner or later someone would pull out a guitar and start singing. My grandfather, for example, was a poet, a good one. His rhymed improvisations were romantic and very stylized, in a way I have never heard again. My grandfather was a firm man, very conservative, and completely devoted to his family. Like most men of his generation he was very macho, but if there is one thing he taught all of us men who carry his name, it is the importance of showing respect to a woman, the beauty of admiring her, caring for her, and protecting her. He would always say to us: “A woman must be treated with the subtle delicacy that you would give to a rose petal.” He was obviously a hopeless romantic, a quality that I have, without a doubt, inherited.

From the time I was six years old, I would grab a wooden kitchen spoon and use it as a microphone to sing. I would spend hours upon hours with the spoon in my hand, interpreting my favorite songs—Menudo songs, or songs from American rock bands, such as REO Speedwagon, Journey, and Led Zeppelin, which is what my older siblings were listening to at the time. I remember many times we were all at my grandparents’ house, and while everyone was sitting on the balcony getting a breath of fresh air and telling stories, I would put some music on, take hold of my “microphone,” and start to sing.

I have no doubt that back then no one ever imagined I’d end up becoming a professional artist (although I did have an uncle who always said, “When you get famous, call me and I’ll come carry your luggage.” To which I would very seriously reply, “Of course!” Needless to say, he hasn’t come through with his end of the bargain...). I’m sure they enjoyed watching me sing and dance around the house, but I know it never occurred to any of us that one day I would be doing just that before hundreds of thousands of people.

As surprising as it may seem, the truth is that ever since I was a young boy, I have always known I was meant to be onstage. I can’t say it was a conscious decision or that I woke up one day and said, “I want to be an artist.” But I can say that I gradually started to realize what I really enjoy doing, and simply tried to do it as often as possible. I know it takes some people many years to figure out what they want to do with their lives, to find something that genuinely moves them, and I know it can be a difficult process. But I was lucky. For me, it was very instinctive. Although at first all I did was grab the spoon and perform for my grandparents and aunts and uncles, I enjoyed it very much. In this case, I believe it was more than a passing phase; it was something more powerful, because what started as a game ultimately turned into a passion. Slowly, I started to see that capturing other people’s attention and having all those eyes on me was a rush. I loved feeling that I was entertaining them, that they were listening to me, and when I got big applause, I’d be thrilled to no end. To this very day that feeling of being onstage continues to be a source of energy and inspiration for me. Every time I find myself in front of an audience, be it twenty people or one hundred thousand, once again I feel the energy that consumed me back at the family gatherings of my youth.

I am not exactly sure where my passion for being onstage comes from, but it somehow feels like I have to be in the spotlight; I want to be seen. . . . At some point during my childhood one of my cousins would produce plays—written by her—and it is there where I had my first experiences as an actor. My cousin was no older than eight or nine, but she was incredibly brilliant for her age. Apparently I liked it, because later when I was in school, each time they put on a play I was the first one to sign up. I even became an altar boy, because to me, helping the priest was like being onstage, since he was very much “the star” of the show. When I was onstage I felt complete and alive, so naturally I wanted to find that sensation at every opportunity.

Every so often I think about what would have happened if I had not chosen this path. It’s almost inevitable to ask yourself these questions, and it’s interesting to think about what would have become of each of our lives if we hadn’t turned into the people we are today. What would I be had I not become an artist? What other profession would I have chosen? Psychologist? Dentist? Lawyer? My grandmother had always hoped that I’d be a doctor, but unfortunately I could never fulfill that dream. Since the moment I realized what I wanted to do with myself, I’ve worked tirelessly to make that dream come true. But I always ask myself what would have become of me had I listened to my grandmother’s advice, or had I taken some other path. For example, when I was eighteen, I auditioned for the Tisch School at New York University, one of the most renowned drama schools in the country. But just a few months before classes began, instead of enrolling I went to Mexico to meet some friends, and there I landed—there really is no other way of seeing it, as it was such a coincidence—in the theater.

What would have happened if I had stayed to go to New York University? What direction would my life have taken if I had found success in acting instead of music? My path would have, without a doubt, been different. But I like to think that whether I had chosen acting, music, or dance, I would have somehow or other always chosen a path that in the end would make me feel happy and fulfilled. The truth is that what you do doesn’t matter so much; what matters is that you love it and that you do it to the best of your ability.

Passion is a vital aspect of my existence. I consider myself to be a realistic dreamer, and my life is full of intense emotions. I live and feel deeply. Some people may think it is wrong to live life so passionately, but the truth is that ever since I was a very little boy, it has been passion that has propelled me on the extraordinary trajectory that has been my life, so I see no reason to stop it. Had I not embraced my instincts at a very young age, I think I would have never gotten to where I am today. To me, part of the beauty of childhood lies in the fact that it is a time of extremes: When we are happy, the happiness is absolute, and when we are sad, the pain is devastating. Life at that age is very intense, but at the same time it is also utterly pure and genuine. As we grow up, we learn how to soothe the emotions that are too overwhelming, and though to a certain degree I’ve also had to grow up, I have always made an effort to stay in touch with my inner child—that passionate, energetic, and happy child who was never afraid of anything.