How to Escape the Black Hole

I have had a really not-so-great week. I can't say it was horrible, because my blessings are just too blatant to ignore. But, I have been emotionally exhausted. It has effected my physical being, which is always surprising to me.

I, at any given moment, love Sydney. Love it's busy lifestyle, love the big-city-vibe, love the sites, the food, the people, the culture. Then, just as quickly, I wish I were anywhere but Sydney. I hate the busy lifestyle. I hate how big everything is. I hate all the stupid posters saying "buy this", "lose 5 kilos", "Avenue Q is a hit", blah blah blah. I miss salty, greasy, unhealthy food cooked my my mom. I get irritated with people and their stupid culture of working and working for nothing.

Most of all, I am so tired of passing up the people sitting on the streets with signs begging for money. It kills me every time. No, I don't think that giving them money is the best option. No, I don't think that not giving them money is the best option. I just can't stand how freaking COMFORTABLE it can become to pass them by!! It's just not okay. It seems we think, I don't know them, so why should I bother? Instead, I'll worry myself over which pair of shoes to buy, because one is made from real leather but the other has a really cute buckle on the side.

What are we doing?! Can we not see that all this STUFF, this wasted STUFF is drawing us deeper and deeper into a black hole of numbness? It's so easy to get caught up into it. So easy. I feel like Spiderman when he has that black goop all over him and he tries to rip it off but it just sticks tighter and tighter.

People, we cannot lose sight of Truth. Please, please someone! He who has ears to hear, let him hear! No, buying daffodils for breast cancer is not enough. No, volunteering at soup kitchens doesn't cut it. No, being a kind and generous person to all who cross your path will not cure this disease. Because that is what it is. We are born sick. And there are those of us that have the remedy, but we just sit on the sidelines, watching the living dead march up and down the rivers of concrete and tar.

I am guilty. I have failed to provide the remedy to everyone I meet each and every day. But, there is hope. And He lives within my carbon ribs, pulsing and breathing. And when the time is right, He gives me the words I don't have. He gives me the alms I can't provide. He gives the patience, kindness, satisfaction, humility, selflessness, calm, forgiveness and joy that I lack.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that if you have a nice home and enjoy eating cake while watching a nice movie you're a terrible person. Goodness, no! I just feel like I see (and experience) the blatant overlooking of so many a needy person. Yes, it's complicated. But we can't just leave it how it is, can we?