I've had trouble writing these past few days. It seems totally redundant to be even hinting at whinging, when we are engulfed by these tragic stories and images from the Queensland, and now Victorian floods. My crap pails in insignificance and I refuse to give any energy to my comparably minuscule financial problems.
The only redeeming fact that comes from any such tragedy is the way in which it summons the heart and human spirit. The way in which people Australia wide have rallied together to help those who have suffered is truly remarkable. I have been glued to the TV in awe of the resilience, strength and camaraderie that the everyday John Citizens exhibit in salvaging their homes, towns and cities. Strangers become friends, gloved up and knee deep in muddy water, getting the job done.
And I can't handle working an eight hour shift in hospitality? WTF.
It's a little surreal to see peoples belongings, cars and even houses floating down a river. I mean, we work hard to build ourselves a nice life. Filled with nice things. So we can eat nice food, and go to nice dinners. If we're extra successful, we'll drive a nice car, maybe with a European badge. We'll move out of our apartment to a nice house, and every year go on a nice holiday, with our friends who also have nice houses. We'll have kids and bust our balls so they have nice toys. We'll send them to a nice school and buy them a nice car on their 18th birthday. It'll all be very nice.
I don't know about you, but I have totally subscribed to this ideal. Just last weekend, whilst sitting on the Harbor front in Balmain with my boyfriend, I admitted that my desire for a 'quality life' was beginning to surpass my need for creative fulfillment. Easy to say as you watch yachts sail by, with Sydney-siders sipping champagne, their laughter echoing through the aqua-tapestry of our beautiful city. It's true, I have totally surrendered to this international religion that is materialistic consumerism. 'I want to have nice things! Perhaps some vintage pieces to adorn the lounge room. And a new car, my God I'd love a new car! It pains me to drive down the street in that beast with four wheels, it's sooooo embarrassing! And I swear, I feel like I have been wearing the same clothes since December. I'll go to fashion hell!' My internal dialogue. The amphetamine ants, running ramped.
But such thoughts quickly dissipated into guilt and remorse as I watched, on my 42 inch plasma, furniture, possessions and cars literally swept away by mother nature. Serving to remind us that a far greater beast is at play, one that we have not a scrap of control over, no matter how hard we work or how much we earn. I look around my lounge room at all of my possessions. The fruits of mine and my beloveds eBay-agonizing-labour, all to ensure that our abode was picture perfect.
And what the hell does it matter.
We have a friend staying with us tonight. He's just arrived after a 14 hour drive from QLD. I quote; 'People's stuff is lining the streets, army trucks come along every day, collecting stuff to dump. There is crap everywhere'. At the end of the day, it really is just crap. Meaningless, worthless. Breakable, disposable. So why do we place so much gravitas on possession? So many of my financial insecurities stem from a need to keep up. To have more, to be more, to get the house and the shiny car.
I agree that it is incredibly challenging to unsubscribe to this reality. It's how we've been cultured. We know better, so we strive for it..it's the human condition. Perhaps awareness is the key. Perhaps I'll have a little more perspective next time I spend seven hours in Ikea, hotdog in hand, angsting over the duck egg blue? Or aubergine? Who knows, maybe I won't rush around like a mad woman when I have friends coming over, getting those 'finishing touches' to the apartment that truly validate my success as a human.
I know, I know, it's easy to sit here and rant. What am I going to do about it right? I'd love to make a whopping donation and contribute to this devastation. My reality at present dictates otherwise. So in the absence of charity, I'll aim for clarity. Look around, value and appreciate what is truly important. The moments shared with loved ones, who love us for who we are, not for the junk we've acquired. Be grateful for what we have, regardless of age or quality. I know that when I go, I'd like to be remembered not for the thread count and origin of my bedsheets, or the designer frocks in my closet (no fear there, none to date), but for the passion, love and conviction I show others and instill in all I do. To me, that's a quality life.
Perhaps this will be my point of focus from here on in. Or at least to strike a balance. Care to join?
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