luxury

I came home after my first day of work tonight and busted down the doors of luxury. Slipped into a hot bath, accompanied by a glass of slightly chilled boutique red wine, sharp Australian cheddar slices and bits of 80% dark chocolate. Oh, and a British chicklet novel. Traded out sips of wine with bites of rich foods and even got out of the bath to toast a slice of bread and refill my glass. Luxury at its finest.

And do I feel guilty? Yes. And more than ever before. More so, even, than returning from Madagascar where I gave two starving children a lollypop in the park because I thought my money would go to someone "behind the scenes." I still see the look in their eyes- disappointment and desperation- at least once a week and it's been 8 years since that moment. I could have been their daily bread and instead I gave them absolute shite.

And this time around as well. Was I as generous as I could have been? No. Did I have money to give lavishly? Absolutely not. But did I buy things for myself? Indeed. A necklace I lost, clothing I'll probably never wear (in public) again. That money could have been somebody's food. In that moment of opportunity for direct generosity, I failed once again. But why the guilt now, over this bath, wine and cheese?

I understand that humans are naturally selfish. For whatever reason we are programmed, in varying degrees, to consider ourselves first. And I am thinking about that selfishness now, red from a hot bath that would have been a whole family's ration of water for a day. But I feel somehow, that because these things are available to me, and the division of power doesn't mean that my personal lack is their direct gain... that somehow, if I just treasure this luxury, this opportunity, and feel truly grateful, it'll even out my karma.

Excuses.