A letdown.

There is not much compassion to be found in big cities. And I'm ashamed to say that i belong with this compassion-less society. Homeless people begging on the streets of Sydney are a common sight. I see them so often that, sometimes, i don't see them at all, and it is not until I'm nearly stumbling on top of them at busy intersections that i remember they are there.

Every time they enter my consciousness, i am hit with pangs of guilt. I am always on the verge of giving, but my legs and my haste pull me away. Every time I'm in this big city, i am hasty, and i am rushed, and i am flustered, always dodging people, dodging traffic, dodging sidewalk fundraisers who want to sign you up for one charity or the other (love to but i can't, really). In the midst of all this dodging and hastening and rushing, i seem to have dodged all my own compassion too.

Today, while walking up George Street to catch my bus back to Cherrybrook, Ken, 67, homeless and hunched in a corner writing in an A4 notebook (which i can only presume is his diary of sorts) caught my eye. There was a cardboard sign in front of him with the words 'please help' and 'lost pension' advertising his situation. I wanted to stop, i really did. I was about to pull out my plastic bag of plums i bought from Leura markets yesterday, and tell him, here, take this, you need it more than i do. But my legs kept walking and in 5 seconds i was carried away. I'm writing this on the bus now and i feel guilty as fuck.

What is it about humans that make us shun charity? Ten thousand people will walk past Ken on George Street today, and even if 1 out of 100 people gave him a dollar, he would be able to afford a place to sleep for the night and a full stomach. I mean, what is one dollar? But no one does, and i didn't too.

I guess I'll just have to keep reminding myself about how lucky i am, that i am not on the street and if i think I'm having a shitty day, well, there's always someone out there worse off than me.