So there we sat, together, on the floor of the unit. My girlfriend and I.

An old, worn out unit, in an old worn out building. The rent was as cheap as it gets, yet still more than we could afford. The kitchen cupboards were falling apart, and their contents were as empty as our stomachs.

We were dead broke! She had suffered an injury at work and had to take time off. No compensation, no income, no savings. I was a 2nd year apprentice on award rates (much less than the dole), we took no handouts or benefits, and once rent was paid, there was little left for food and electricity.

To truly understand the situation is difficult, perhaps impossible, for those that have never gone without food when pains in their stomach demanded it and when their heart so desperately desired it. To see people at the supermarket put items in their trolleys without calculating every last cent, without double checking prices, looking for cheaper options, hoping they can pay for enough to eat at least twice a day (but knowing they can’t) engenders a despair that can’t be conveyed. It’s not envy or jealousy, its hopelessness.

I cant help but smile when I recall the joy I felt when I discovered a no name brand of cooking oats for 70 cents a bag. For $1.40 we would have breakfast for the week! We couldn’t afford fancy breakfast items like cereal or that combination of bread, butter and spreads.

But we sat on the floor … together … we looked into each other eyes … and we were as happy as any two people could be.

The simple touch of a hand, a kind smile, shared stories of better times, compassion, understanding and a laugh or two. We were happy despite our poverty. No, we were more than happy, it is one of my fondest memories and a time I would give so much to relive.

On that floor, with nothing to our names, hunger pains in our belly, we held hands and we connected. For a short time the world and all its problems evaporated from our consciousness. Nothing seemed to exist beyond this connection, beyond this amalgamation of the souls.

We had it all.

Suddenly she remembered an old dusty, half drunk bottle of liquor placed in the back of the cupboard and long forgotten. Never before, and never since, have I experienced such exultation at the discovery of a bottle of alcohol.

The liquor was a cheap variety, we drank from old chipped mugs, though to our minds they served as well as the finest crystal flutes holding the finest champagne.

We talked and we listened, we heard more than just the words. We cared deeply about the dreams, goals, fears and sadness that each other experienced, yet we gave no thought about how others viewed us. We knew that some friends, and some family didn’t approve of our choice to be together (they told us directly), but we didn’t care, we knew we had each other and no amount of approval from others, and no amount of worldly possessions could in anyway enhance what we had. We would get by, we would face all obstacles together.

So now I sit in our comfortable home with all the modern necessities such as air conditioning, double car garage, 4 bedrooms, pool, play equipment for the kids, high speed internet connection, playstation’s and PC’s and tablets, flat screen TV’s and so on. Rarely thinking twice when choosing which of the wide variety of foods I should select when venturing to the fridge, simply preempting some future desire to eat.

So why then do I look back with such nostalgia? Why do I long to relive those harsh and unforgiving times? Why don’t I feel an order of magnitude happier now that I have wealth that is an order of magnitude greater? Why doesn’t my bottle of well aged single malt whisky fill me with the same excitement and anticipation as that old dusty bottle from the back of the cupboard? Why was it that I felt more pleasure moving into that broken down old apartment where I could be with my love, than when we paid off our first home?

Why? Because materialism is an illusion. In many ways, the absence of possessions free’s us to see the true treasures in life. The challenges, the disappointment, the hard times, they crystallise what is important, and what is just ego and narcissism.

Wealth is a game of diminishing returns. The more we have, the less value we place on our possessions and the greater the need to have more. A couple of dollars doesn’t bring the joy of knowing you will eat. Food is expected, we instead seek fine dining, takeaway, entertainment, we deserve it after all, we earned it, we worked so hard. The narcissism creeps in and starts to rob us of our humanity.

We get caught up in providing our children with the best start, the best schooling, the best opportunities in careers and sport, to not “go without”, but too often we miss the most valuable gift, the gift that will arm them to take on the world. The gift of our time, our love our interest and our heart. We deny them the gift of hardship, of struggle. In doing so we deny them the clarity of purpose. We work long hours to provide, we trade the most precious of gifts in exchange for an illusion. We sacrifice our limited time for gadgets and toys.

We must be vigilant, and remind ourselves of what is important, and then put that first.

What I would give to relive our night sitting on the floor!

Young love, simplicity, dreams and togetherness.

We had it all ….. but if we pause, take the time to listen, to care, to really see each other and reconnect, to put each other first, we can discover that … we have it all!!