I like my music to be like a buffet. If you don't like this

Hear the words of Romeo Santos, the poet of bachata, who declared: “I like my music to be like a buffet. If you don’t like this plate, there’s another one for you.” Though spoken with simplicity, these words carry the weight of deep wisdom. For he speaks not only of music, but of generosity, of diversity, of the sacred act of giving to many hearts at once. In his vision, art is not a narrow road for the chosen few—it is a great table set with many dishes, where all are invited, where none leave hungry.

The ancients too understood this truth. They built vast marketplaces, filled with spices, fruits, and wares from many lands. There, each traveler could find something for his taste, something for her need. So it is with Santos’ buffet of music: each song, each rhythm, each lyric is a different offering. One may be sweet, another fiery, another full of sorrow, yet together they form a feast that honors the richness of human experience. In this way, Santos reminds us that art thrives not in uniformity, but in variety.

Consider the story of Walt Disney, who dreamed of creating films for children. Yet he did not stop at one kind of tale. Some were filled with laughter, others with sorrow, others with adventure. Like a careful host, he set the table with many flavors, so that each person—child or adult, dreamer or realist—could find something that touched their heart. Because of this, his work endured, and generations have found joy in his world. His success, like Santos’, was born from understanding that one dish alone cannot satisfy all appetites.

Santos’ words also carry a lesson in humility. For the artist who insists, “Eat only what I place before you, or go hungry,” will soon find his table empty. But the one who prepares many offerings says instead, “Your tastes matter too. Your heart has a place here.” This is not weakness—it is strength. For it takes courage to create beyond one’s comfort, to offer something new, to embrace the fullness of humanity. Such generosity of spirit is what transforms art into communion, artist into servant, and audience into family.

But let us not limit this wisdom to art alone. Life itself is a buffet, filled with opportunities, paths, and choices. One way may not suit you; another may feel more fitting. Just as Santos prepares many songs, so too must we prepare many approaches to living, to loving, to working. If one effort fails, do not despair—try another. If one path closes, turn to the next. Variety is not chaos, but abundance, and abundance is the gift of life.

To you who hear these teachings, take them into your soul. When you create, create for many. Do not seek to please only yourself, nor only one narrow crowd. Pour forth your gifts widely, with richness and variety. When you live, do not chain yourself to one taste, one vision, one rigid path. Explore, taste, learn, and share. Just as the great table welcomes all, let your life be abundant in offering, so that others may draw strength from you.

The lesson is clear: music like a buffet is a symbol of generosity, variety, and inclusion. Santos teaches us that the true artist—and indeed, the true human—is not one who demands conformity, but one who offers choice. Practical wisdom follows: in your craft, provide many ways for others to connect. In your relationships, offer different sides of yourself—kindness, strength, humor, wisdom. In your life, embrace diversity of thought and action. In this way, you become like the banquet table, never empty, always nourishing.

Thus remember Romeo Santos’ words: if one plate does not satisfy, another will. Do not fear to offer many gifts, for in doing so, you honor the vastness of the human spirit. Live as the host of abundance, and your life, like your art, will become a feast that welcomes all who hunger for joy, for meaning, for beauty.