Do I Even Understand What It Means?

Saturday afternoon. Weekend off. Family time. Here I am with so much in comparison to so many with so little, and just occasionally I find myself aware that much of the trivia that irritates me is utter bullshit. I can get wound up by such small things, make a mountain from a molehill, and pass it off as something that really matters. Only then I catch myself, and I realise that I'm being a fool. I’m doing some boring technical stuff on my PC, and had I tunes on shuffle. I’ve an eclectic taste in music, and the main theme from Saving Private Ryan filled my ears. God what a film. God what a tragedy that war was. As are all wars. None, not even the noble ones could ever be considered as anything other than a failure of the human condition. As the music drained me of my introspection I became aware that I’ve experienced nothing like war, nothing like the explosive misery that defined whole generations. And yet here I sit, sloth like in afterglow of tragedy past, wealthy and indolent, hardly bearing a moment to remember just how much my comfort cost those I shall never meet. And if I were to meet them I don’t think that I could look them in the eye. I think I would be ashamed of just how much I take for granted. But then don’t we all? How many of us sail blindly through existence not cherishing the important things, dwelling on the trivia, losing the meaningful amongst the banal? I hope I'm actually a better man than the one I sometimes allow myself to be. In fact it's a question I found myself asking during the early hours. Am I good man? Have a lived a good life? Have I done anything of value? Of course it's for others to decide upon that because I'm too close to the question itself. At my best I have passion; things matter to me and I fight alongside those who despise cruelty, injustice, abuses of power. But a good man? I genuinely don’t know. I’m not even sure I apprehend what that means?