In the west, we spend a lot of time trying to make ourselves not feel alive. Let me try to explain:
We cry if our hamburgers don’t come with the right toppings and our
coffee isn’t served at the ideal temperature with the perfect amount of
caffeine. We spend fortunes on beds that make us sleep without feeling
that we do. We spray everything with soaps that have been designed to
chemically cleanse our environment from dirt and germs. We buy things
in bulk so that we don’t need to worry about running out of something.
And yet we can go shopping 24 hours a day at stores that are rarely
more than a mile away.
We
can get pills for everything. We should never have to feel pain. We do
not need to have a stuffy nose. We can lose weight without feeling
hungry. We can exercise without having to go outside or without feeling
to hot or too cold. We can watch TV when we drive. We should never
expect to wait more than three minutes for our lunch, which is why it
is called "fast food." We can return anything we do not like–our
dinner, expired Pop Tarts or a shirt with a stripe in the wrong color.
Our houses are designed to provide the ultimate comfort. There should
be many bathrooms; the carpets must be soft, the dishwasher never
broken. We make clothes with no seams so we don’t have to feel them. We
own a pair of shoes for every activity so that our feet will not hurt
and our performance will be maximized. We make sure that we do not work
too many hours in a week; becoming too tired is not desired. We
struggle to find things we want for Christmas–our children are bored
with their toys. We have storage rooms for the stuff that we don’t need
so we can have space for more.
We buy new cars once every few years; the new models are always better.
We have our preferences and stick to them. We prefer Coke or Pepsi,
Ranch or Italian dressing, white or dark meat on the turkey, Lucky
Charms or Grape Nuts. It is undesirable to be told that your
preferences are not available.
We should not want, we should not wait, and we should not feel pain or any disagreeable emotion.
These are some thoughts that bothered me while spending time in a
refugee camp a couple of weeks ago. A refugee often does not own a pair
of shoes. A refugee sleeps on a bamboo floor. A mat sometimes serves as
a mattress. A refugee eats whatever is available in the camp. Sometimes
that is only rice and a clear broth with some onions in it. A refugee
is lucky if he owns two shirts. A refugee does not choose where to
live, what to eat, what to wear or how many rooms to put in her house.
How different our lives are from the lives of refugees that have fled
their homelands to save their lives. And yet, as I watch the refugees
commune together over their simple meals, I wonder if we are actually
richer than they are.
(Originally printed in "Partners World" Second Quarter 2004 www.partnersworld.ca.)