Bed Shopping

I went bed shopping with my parents the other day. The man who served us should have been called Mr. Mattress. Did you know that a couple will sweat 0.5 litres into their mattress per night, creating a good environment for dustmites? Mr Mattress did. Did you know that the coils of a bed become denser towards the middle of the mattress , and that a softer mattress with an internal layer of latex is better for side-sleepers? Mr. Mattress did. And thankgod he did, because there were atleast 100 mattresses on the floor, and only Mr. Mattress could distinguish them.

I was rolling around on the Sealy Posturepedic Queen Crown Jewel (http://sealy.com.au/crownjewel/index.html), trying to decide whether it was better than the Sealy Correct Comfort Body Sense which, unlike the Sealy Posturepedic Queen Crown Jewel, had new “cradling motion technology”... I was wearing a “Make Poverty History” bracelet... gah. I felt so shallow.

I dont know what to make of material-privelage. I guess that there are two kinds: The first is having the basics to be who you are (like food and shelter). The second is being able to massage who you are. Chocolate, beds, TV’s and anything else that you can buy from Chadstone Shopping Center are all massages. And there is something very superficial about all this massaging. A massage just works with what you’ve got, leaving you slightly relaxed but essentially unchanged; An old fat king, bathing his senses in the best silks and the best food, is still fat and disgusting.

The question is how should I feel about massaging myself? (Woah, this article might yet slip into a Catholic shaming of masturbation) Because, the opportunity cost of me massaging myself is ofcourse somebody, usually in another country, not even being able to be who they are (i.e. instead of buying a $1000 Calibre suit, I could keep a family healthy for a year). I can easily justify to myself that I am treating people like they would treat me. That is, if I swapped souls with the homeless guy in Melbourne Central, and he was the guy lying down on the mattresses and writing this post, he wouldn’t be particularly conscious of my state, sleeping on the concrete.

So why do I still feel bad bouncing around a mattress farm like an unsatisfied goldilocks? Why does one feel bad when you dont buy “The Big Issue” from that fluorescent-green guy who screams and jiggles at you? Because if you aren’t treating people in the same way that you would WANT to be treated if you were in their situation, you feel bad. The difficult thing is that we have our own “wants” too.

How should one feel then at the bed shop? I don't think that anyone can say for certain. I for one don't have a "perception of what life is" strong enough to tell others what is right and wrong in such a tangle of self-interest and empathy. Some people assert that they know, but I dont always trust them. I'm working on a puzzle (called life) which I am destined never to finish. Charity might be meaningless, or it might be the only meaning. I'll just see how it fits into my own puzzle for now.


(A disclaimer: although this post ended with "uncertainty is the only certainty", I think that uncertainty creates its own boundaries. One shouldn't go actively harming people, because that would insinuate that you understand the meaning of the "life-puzzle", and other people's "life-puzzles", enough to put a value on them. Actively harming somebody is just as presumptious as telling them what is the right or wrong attitude in relation to charity. I dont think that dickheadedness is demeaned or excused by uncertainty.)